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Chapter 9
Matthias
Afterleavingtheclub,I walked around the city until almost five a.m. Somehow, I'd managed to leave my phone at the club after I'd pulled it out to let Patrick type in his number. When he was done, I'd gestured for him to just put it on the table, not wanting to touch it when I saw it was streaked with his sweat.
I walked until the sun had slowly started to glow in a thin blue-orange line along the horizon. By that time, it was too late to go home as I had an early meeting for which I had no intention of being late.
Instead, I jogged to the office, and took a quick shower in the ensuite. But it didn't matter what I did. Walk, run, shower...I could not shake the thoughts sprinting through my mind. Not thoughts of what had happened, so much as thoughts of... the person.
I forget the way she'd looked at me in horror after I'd said,"I could make you a better offer,"and then fled down the alley to get away from me.
I don't know how to describe the look on her face - it was half hatred, half hope. Those two expressions together did things to her face I'd never have thought possible. She'd looked vulnerable, human. Compounded with the tears down her face, I'd almost reached out to cup her cheek and tell her everything was okay, she was going to be okay.
It all had to be because I was still reeling from the news that she was going to marry Patrick. I'd gone to the club to scope out the likelihood that she would agree to some sort of arranged relationship. Something,anything,that would help get the tabloids off my back after I'd already been photographed with her. I'd gone to see what I could offer her in return. After her experience with Damien, maybe she had been burned for life and would never consider another relationship of convenience again.
Hearing that she was in a similar agreement with Patrick was shocking. But it also offered me a glimmer of hope. Surely, I was better than that hagfish.
But after her reaction outside the club, it's a mystery whether she would even stay in a room with me long enough to hear me out.
I guess there's really nothing to do but try.
"Cancel my last meeting," I call out to Hannah as I run out of my office and to the elevator.
The ride over to the club provides no inspiration for the perfect speech to get Clarissa to dump Patrick and help me instead.
I'll just have to wing it.
Telling Kevin to wait, I jump out of the car. I could be back out with my tail between my legs in minutes. The club's front entrance is locked and after I knock a few times, there's still no answer. I remember Clarissa walking toward me last night with the trash bag in her hands, and figure there might be a back entrance.
The back door is closed but unlocked when I get there, and I push on it to see it open into a cramped but spotless kitchen.
"Clarissa?" I call out into the quiet and listen for her response. There's a sound from somewhere, not close, and it doesn't appear to be a reply to me. Maybe it's one of her employees doing some early preps for the night.
The salon door of the kitchen opens into the side of the bar and into the main area of the club. Considering what this place looked like last night, I'm surprised by how tidy it is now. All the chairs are stacked on one side of the room, and about twenty tables of varying shapes and sizes are pushed against the other wall. The floor is spotless. On the end of the bar, there are two half full glasses that look out of place. One of them lipstick stained.
There's a soft glow from the lamps on the wall, but the main overhead lights are off.
"Clarissa?" I call out again.
Silence.
I'm about to take a step toward the front of the club when I hear a loud crash and a scream.
It's not from the front of the club or from the kitchen. It's further than that, maybe upstairs.
The hairs on my back stand on end.
"Clarissa?" I shout, this time. "It's Matthias. Where are you?"
In the distance, someone yells out a desperate, "No!"
Fuck.
My entire body ices over and I run to the side of the clubroom where I remember seeing a small locked gate that led up a set of stairs.
Another scream, and then a low rumble of a male voice as I approach the stairs.
Shit.
