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Eli
“You’re quiet tonight,” Livvie comments as we hold Casper down on the table to give him his shot and check his teeth.
I shake my head. If I open my mouth I’m going to scream or blurt out the whole sordid mess to her. I should never have run out on Claudia like that. I don’t hate her. I hate myself. I’m helpless. I stood there and let her make that deal. Nero met my eye as he suggested it. He dared me to stand up for her, and I folded. We all folded.
Nero’s toying with me. I’m a rat in a rigged maze and he’s the mad scientist looming over me with an electric-shock wand. But why? Why does he have this interest in me? Why does he have to take away the only thing good in my life?
I know why I’m too chicken shit to walk back into Malloy Manor and face my girlfriend. If I have to look into those ice-blue eyes knowing Nero’s going to take her from me, I will lose my shit. And Claudia’s already got her hands full with Noah. She needs me to be strong, and I’m anything but. So I need to be away from her. It’s safer for both of us.
I can’t say any of this to Nero’s daughter, so I grunt and drop the toothpick. “All done. What’s next on the list?”
“From your surly disposition and caveman dialect, I deduce woman troubles.” Livvie leans across the table and studies my face like it’s a map of Tasmania. Casper thinks she’s onto a great game, so he folds his paws over each other and peers up at me with cross-eyed blue orbs. Despite myself, I can’t help laughing.
“See, what did I tell you, Casper? Our friend Eli here is moping over a girl.” Livvie strokes his back and he rolls over and waves his paws in the air, as if to remind me that I had more pressing matters, like a tiger whose belly needs rubbing.
“It’s nothing.” I pretend to be entranced with the medical waste bins.
“Sure, sure. I’ll let you mope in peace.” Livvie consults her leather planner. “I’ve got you down for helping Mario in accounting, which sounds like something that can wait. I’m running a dress rehearsal for Nero’s New Year’s Eve party. Nothing like scantily-clad women performing death-defying feats to get you out of a funk. If you want to help you’ll need to shower, because you smell like tiger crap and I’m not having that around my girls. Oh, and we’re carrying the snakes upstairs.”
“The snakes?”
“That’s what I said. Casper’s coming too. Nero says he needs to get used to being around people and loud noises.” Livvie tosses her hair over her shoulder and pivots on her heel. I follow her in a daze. She fastens Casper in his lead and stacks two of the terrariums into her arms. “Grab those last three and follow me.”
The snakes slither around inside as I stack the cages. I flinch every time they move, convinced they’ll break through the glass and take me down. Eventually, I work up the courage to carry them into the elevator. When I set them down next to Livvie’s python, Essie, there’s a sheen of sweat on my forehead that has nothing to do with physical exertion.
Upstairs, we carry the terrariums into the backstage area. Several women sit at the makeup tables or congregate around the plush bathroom stalls tiled in black marble. I notice Nero’s guards stand at every door, and the whole place is eerily silent. When we had the film crew at our house for Dad’s TV show, they never shut up. This stifling atmosphere feels ominous.
While I shower, Livvie keeps up a steady stream of chatter as she sorts through racks of costumes. She tosses a fresh set of clothes over the stall. It’s a pinstripe suit that looks suspiciously like it’s made by the same designer Nero wears. It’s a little tight across the shoulders, but otherwise, it’s a perfect fit. Livvie wolf-whistles when I exit the stall.
“Mmm, I’ll get Celeste to take out the shoulders before opening night. But I’ve got a good eye for sizes.” Livvie’s eyes travel down my body. She must see disapproval on my face, because she laughs and slaps my shoulder. “Relax, Romeo. You’re not my type. Besides, I’ve no intention of getting on Mackenzie Malloy’s bad side. That bitch be crazy.”
I laugh. Livvie’s not wrong.
She’s dressed in a glittering gown with a slit to her upper thigh, her hair pinned in a messy style, her face swiped with fresh makeup. She looks like a million bucks, no question. I can’t believe this is the same woman who shoveled lion shit with me. Claudia isn’t the only one I know skilled at living a secret life.
We walk out into the club, and it’s all I can do to hold my composure. I know Nero was planning something epic, but this is next level. Every surface glitters with gold. Golden booths, gold tiles, gold chains dripping from the ceiling. The stage is a figure-eight winding through the room, with VIP tables nestled in the center, protected from the plebs by the stage. Platforms, trapezes, and spiral staircases lead over the stage and up into the golden heavens above.
I let out a breath. “It’s… a lot.”
I pick Casper up from the floor and hold him in my arms. He peers around the room in wide-eyed wonder.
“It’s my design.” Livvie nods to the room. “My father’s money. He wants this place to attract the most powerful men in the country – senators, businessmen, tech moguls, rockstars, even the Pope, who he claims is a close, personal friend. Too bad Nero won’t spend even a fraction of this budget on the animals.”
We cross over the stage on a gilded bridge and settle into the VIP area. Livvie snaps her fingers and a waiter wearing a golden tuxedo appears at our side with two cocktails in what look suspiciously like… yup, the glasses are golden eggs. I roll my eyes as I take one and sip it. It’s strong and saccharine sweet.
Please let this night be over soon. I want to be home with Claudia and Gizmo. I need to do some serious groveling for walking out on her. I know time’s running out for Casper, and I need her help to save him from Constantine.
Livvie kisses my forehead and hands me Casper’s lead as she heads off to the wings. The lights dim. Pounding music throbs through the speakers as a line of women parade on stage, naked except for gold g-strings, pasties, and a layer of shimmering glitter over their skin. Around their necks are gold chains that hang from the ceiling. As they twist and gyrate over each other, the chains weave together, forming an intricate design.
The more twisted the chains become, the tighter they bite into their skin. If one of the dancers slip up, they’ll hang themselves from the chains. Their lips form smiles that reek of terror.
These are women dancing for their lives.
I lean forward, my breath catching. I hold Casper to my chest as if I have a hope of protecting him from the man who designed this circus of misery.
Everyone in this room is a prisoner. We’re puppets and Nero Lucian pulls our strings.
Casper darts from my arms and rushes to the stage. I catch him midair just as he tries to leap up to join the dancers. The last thing I want is for either of us to—
