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How can she possibly know that? I follow her lead, and damn if she’s not right. She yanks open a black door that reveals a narrow area with rows of metal shelves filled with tons of carboard boxes. After a quick scan, she strides to the left and shoves the bar handle of a steel door. Just like that, we glide through and end up in an alley serving the back entrances of several other shops.
“This way!”
Excitement buzzes in her voice as she grabs my arm and starts jogging. I experience the exhilaration too. We’ve really gotten away from them.
I’m free.
I could easily disappear and never have to see Titan again.
But I’d also never see her or Pete again. I can’t do that to either of them.
I let her guide me down the concrete, trying to keep up as best I can. An enormous white SUV idles at the end of the block.
“There’s my friends.”
The back door flies open and shrieks similar to Chelsea’s screams waft toward us. A model gorgeous girl waves us toward her. “Get in here!”
“We’re coming! We’re coming!”
Chelsea scrambles inside, and I follow although not quite as easily. The interior is unlike anything I’ve ever seen. Two huge bench seats face each other rather than forward, separated by a square table with four cupholders. Must be some kind of custom, rich people upgrade. My friend pats the empty space next to her, and I slide onto the luxurious cream-colored leather. As always, she grabs my hand and squeezes.
“Whit, Chanel, this is my sister-in-law, Addie.”
The incorrect description hurts more than I expect. For a few hours today I really thought I might consider marrying her brother. Now she’ll suffer because of his callousness too. All I can manage is to offer them a fake smile and a small wave. “Hi.”
They talk over themselves full of bubbly enthusiasm, welcoming me, telling me how adorable I am, then how perfect Chelsea looks. The compliments flow between the women like the prosecco the girl in the pink fur coat starts pouring into flutes nestled in the cocktail table between our knees.
I drink while they gush and gossip and giggle. I’ve never been part of any group before. Chelsea keeps a tight grip on me, making sure I feel included even though I’m out of my element as well as their league.
Heavy bass thuds outside the vehicle before we even park. Once we stop, the squeals return when the door opens. A beefy guy in a black suit offers his assistance to keep her friends from tumbling to the sidewalk. He helps each of us out, and I look around once I’m steady on my feet.
An entrance about twenty feet away has a long line of people waiting to go inside the club. We, on the other hand, stroll up to an open door, guarded by another man in a suit who wears an earpiece and talks into a mic on his cuff.
Whitney and Chanel stride inside, but when Chelsea reaches the bouncer, he leans down. “Maxim is ready for you.”
With a shaking hand, she touches her chest and nods solemnly. While her friends turn left, heading where the music pounds louder, Chelsea turns right, into a quieter, dim corridor. This time I grab her.
She’s not going alone.
She glances over her shoulder at me. I may never have experienced love before, but I know now what the feeling looks like. Chelsea glows from within. Scarlet broils on her cheeks, and her eyes shine, bright and clear. “Yay! You get to meet my boyfriend!”
Unable to contain my own emotions, I smile back at her. Hopeful that he feels the same way about her, I try to ignore the dread welling up in me as a different guy trails behind us. Silent and stoic, he keeps his gaze above our heads, almost like the guards who work for Titan.
Maybe it’s a coincidence.
The bouncer leading us stops in front of a door, knocks twice, and then turns the knob, stepping out of the way for Chelsea to rush past him.
Shit.
It’s not a coincidence.
The huge man sitting in the leather chair behind a heavy steel desk rises immediately and catches Chelsea when she launches herself into his arms. All his guards scatter, leaving only me alone with the couple. I’m watching an intimate moment between them but can’t leave. Not when I’m terrified for her.
Maxim clutches the sides of her smiling face and murmurs to her in a language I guess to be Russian. She absorbs all of his sentiments, her hands curled around his wrists. When he tips down to kiss her, I look away. My friend deserves privacy despite how much I worry about her.
The realization hits me. Maxim really loves her. It’s her brother who is going to kill her. And him.
“You must be my butterfly’s friend.”
