AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“How do you know all this?”
She glances down at her bare left hand. “I’ve been dropping hints to Charles every chance I get. The man is oblivious.” Dani leans against the doorframe. “This guy, he’s got it bad.”
And pretty soon, he’s going to regret ever laying his sights on me.
“Where are we going?” I knock on the hard divider separating Henry and me in this stuffy car. I figured it would only be a short drive to wherever Savini was wanting to meet, but almost thirty minutes later, I realize this might have all been a mistake.
I should have known getting into a random car, wearing an outfit more expensive than I could ever afford, and meeting a dangerous man was a bad idea. This was supposed to be on my terms. A calculated risk, not some stupid rendezvous I had no control over. How am I going to kill him—and get away with it—if I’m allowing him to stack the deck against me?
A voice comes over the speaker. “Miss Banks, we will be arriving shortly.”
I open my clutch, confirming for roughly the fifty-seventh time that the things I packed are still in there.
The car slows until it finally stops. I reach for the handle but the door doesn’t open. Half a minute passes and Henry’s kind face greets me. He reaches for my hand to help me out onto the sidewalk.
I take in my sights, unfamiliar with my surroundings. The street is relatively quiet, with only a few people passing here and there. Another car pulls up behind us but I focus on the entrance to the hotel I'm standing in front of.
Anna Del Sol.
The man standing near the door opens it wide and Savini steps through to greet me. “You made it.” He continues over, reaching out toward me. “Come, fawn.”
Henry keeps his head low, not making direct eye contact with Savini.
I offer him a quick parting wave and watch as he nods only slightly in response.
That minimal interaction doesn’t exactly make me feel all warm and fuzzy, considering I have no idea where I am. Savini could very well have all these people fearing him to the point that they would turn a blind eye if he were to kidnap me.
I did not fucking think this through.
We walk through another set of double doors, opened by people who pay us no attention other than waiting on Savini hand and foot. If he were to sneeze, I wonder if someone would rush over to pat his nose. The thought is as foolish as thinking I'm going to make it out of this alive. This ignorant deer really has walked straight into the lion's den. That doesn't mean I won't go down without a fight.
“You haven’t said a word,” Savini glances down at me. His hand rests on mine, which lays on top of his forearm as he guides me through this place.
“A word.” I slide myself free and continue walking by his side. I might be in over my head but I can damn well walk without his assistance. This isn’t a date, there’s no need for him to be a gentleman. But the second my sass kicks in, I remember that I have to play the part if I want this to work. Why is this all so much easier with Axel?
Maybe because Axel isn’t the one who murdered my brother.
I check my phone screen, noting the time and the lack of any cell service. “Your two hours started when I stepped out of that car.”
We go into an elaborate dining area, the few patrons in the place trailing their gaze over us when we stroll by and through another door. We end up in a private, dimly lit room. Candles line the exterior walls, and there’s a few of them on the small table in the center of the space.
“Fair enough.” Savini pulls out my seat and motions for me to sit. “I’m pleased to see my design choices were suitable.”
“Did I really have a choice?” I lay my clutch on the table and scoot myself closer.
“You always have a choice, even if it doesn’t seem like it.”
There's something strange about that entire statement. Everything he does is cocky and dominant, leaving me pushed into a corner with everything he does. But, after all, I'm the person who wanted to be in this position. Fate really did me a favor with this one.
“How does your boyfriend feel about being outbid?” Savini unbuttons his suit jacket and settles into his chair across from me.
“He’s not my boyfriend.”
Savini tilts his head. “Does he know that?”
I chuckle. “He’s aware.”
I never really was fond of labels. I’ve always found them to be unbearably suffocating. My therapist probably attributes that to childhood trauma and my fear of commitment. Whatever. I never did like paying hundreds of dollars an hour to be told I’m defective.
