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Every second. Every angle.
He sorts by downloaded files and highlights the ones he sent me, enlarging each image preview so I can see they are the same. Then he deletes them.
He turns to face me, “Done. Apleasuredoing business with you.”
“What about the rest of them?” I can’t keep the panic from leaking into my voice.
He laughs, “You really thought I was going to delete everything for a fucking handjob? Nah, princess. Our deal was to delete everything Isent to you.”
“That’s before I knew you had a whole fucking museum of shit!”
“A museum? Maybe I should frame some.”
I shove him in the chest, my voice strained with poorly-concealed emotion. “You’re a fucking monster, Finneas Fox.”
I realize this moment was the one he was striving for all along. The ultimate way to spit in my face and rub in my humiliation. I know there is no convincing him to delete more so I storm to the door.
I rip it open but pause in the frame. I look back at him and say with utmost sincerity, “If you leak those photos, I will never forgive you.Never.”
The door slams shut behind me.
My blood is pumping, my sanity hanging on by a thread.
Why do I let him play me like this? Like a fucking mouse to a candied trap. I’m a goddamn Luciano, and I’m being made a fool.
I weave through the club’s tables, scrunching my nose at the sickly-sweet smell from before. I spy Mira’s shimmery, green bikini disappearing down a hallway labeled employee only. She’s a reminder of exactly howfuckedI am.
So when I pass a table with an empty beer bottle, I pick it up and follow her.
The hallway is dark but lined with red toe-kick lights. My veins pulse with determination and the need to gain back an inkling of control. I grip the bottle by the neck and smash the body against the wall. The heavy bass of the music covers any sound.
I open the only door at the end of the hallway and quickly realize it must be the dancers’ locker and changing rooms. A long vanity table trails along a mirror-covered wall lit up with big, round bulbs. A makeup bag is opened, and half its contents strewn out on the table next to Mira, seated in front of the mirror.
She’s distracted by something on her phone, so she doesn’t see me come up behind her until I have her high ponytail fisted and head yanked back. Her eyes widen as they meet my crazed ones through the reflection.
Her mouth opens for what I’m sure was supposed to be a scream, but she quickly smacks it closed when I push the jagged beer bottle edge to her outstretched neck.
“Do you know who I am?”
“Ef-Effie Luci-Luciano.” Her trembling voice almost gives me pause—almost.
“That’s right. And I’m sure I don’t have to tell you what will happen if you speak a single word to a single soul about what you saw today.” She nods her head as much as she can without grating the glass against her skin. “Right?”
“Yes, yes. Of course.” Her voice shakes, and I press the bottle a touch harder until she spews, “I won’t tell anyone. Not a soul, I promise.”
“Terrific.” I release her head with a shove and turn to leave, confident I’ve scared her silent.
I pause before exiting the changing room and turn back to see her dabbing a slight drip of blood with a cotton pad. “Oh, and I’d go with the purple eyeshadow. Complementary colors and all.”
1.ALPHA—Layto |
Chapter 7
Girls' Night
Effie
It’saweirdfeeling,looking at your hands and wondering what they would look like covered in blood.
