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Ihanded over my thin cardholder with my credit cards and fake identification forDamonto hold in his jacket pocket.Standingnext to him made me feel like a schlep in comparison.Theridiculously expensive dressRosebought for me was versatile enough for the club, but theConversesIpaired them with weren’t in style.Iditched the bomber jacket, which madeDamon’seyes twitch, and dug out a pair of black high-heeled boots from my bag, which made his pupils dilate.Theyremained strained on my shoes while he led me to the club as if he visualized seeing me in nothing but them.Heelsweren’t my usual go-to, butMombought them for me last year.Generally, itemsMomorRosebought me fit into these places.
Atthis point,LasVegaswas packed shoulder to shoulder with people.Damonbypassed the long queue of overdressed patrons.Theygroaned whenDamonwalked past them like he owned the place and leaned down to whisper something to the hostess.
Initially, she giggled at the idea of them sharing a secret but wised up atDamon’sstony glare.DamonMaxwellmight be a man of few words, but he didn’t have to speak for the air around him to radiate authority.Onthe rare occasions he spoke, his deep timbre vibrated with dominance.
Thehostess, who went byFrancesca, turned into the most professional woman inLasVegasand led us through a different set of entrances than the general public andVIPs.Sheset us up at a table upstairs on a mezzanine balcony overlooking the main floor.Achilled bottle of the same champagne from earlier was already on the table, along with a selection of water, mixers, and a bottle of vodka.Everythingwas sealed.
Sincethe club's main floor was visible through the balcony, we could easily spotSophieupon her arrival.Thereserved tables on the main floor were off to one side.Nonetheless, it looked like a mosh pit.Toomany humans packed in a compact spot, andIwanted no part in it.
Damonmust’ve dropped a lot of cash to secure a fairly private room on such short notice.Themezzanine balcony held only six tables, and everyone here looked important or an escort to someone important.Thiswasn’t just any otherVIProom.Itwas an extreme version of it.
Damonpopped the champagne and passed me a flute whenIjoined him at the table.Hisgood mood had been restored, and he raised his glass to clink it with mine.Thedéjà vu had me staring atDamonuntil he took a sip beforeIdid the same.
“Thiswhole day has been a wild goose chase,”Icommented.
“Why?”
"BecauseofSophie.”
Damonstraightened. “Whatabout her?”
“Westill haven’t seen her.”
Asly smile crossed his face. “HaroldandKumarGoToWhiteCastle.”
Iimmediately understood the reference.Itwas an old movie about two guys on the hunt to findWhiteCastle, but they never seemed to reach their destination.Itwas quite fitting.
Shakingmy head,Idowned the contents in my flute.Myglass was topped off the moment it was empty.Damon’sfingers laced mine asIsipped on the last of it.Alcoholswam through my veins, the warmth of it spreading up my arms.Consideringthe intensity with whichDamonwatched me,Iwondered if he knewIwas past my limit.Hemust have becauseDamonshrugged off his jacket and pulled me to the dance floor.
Istumbled a little.Somethingwas off.Ididn't drink often, but a few glasses of champagne had never done the trick before.Damoncaught me, drawing me against his body.
Thesmall number of the superVIPguests danced like drugged-up zombies to whatever music was droning on.Normally,Iwouldn’t partake in it, but an especially eerie song with a haunting beat came on.
Iswayed to the music with my head slumped forward.Blackstrands fell around my shoulders asImoved my face from side to side.Mylimbs flailed to the side, dancing like no one else was watching.
Witheach movement, my dress brushed against my hand, and my ears tried to pick up the soft rustling.Myhead tipped into the air.Disheveledhair accentuated my wide eyes, which were often referred to as disturbing.
Mybody contorted in unnatural ways, the sharp steps appearing choreographed.Peoplearound us looked freaked out, wondering ifIwas having a seizure.Mylips curled, the bitter taste of alcohol lingering on my tongue asItwirled and spun, practically floating in the air.
Whileothers on the dance floor thoughtIwas summoning spirits,Damonstared at me with adoration, mesmerized by my odd dancing.Hisfingers curled around mine.Thewarm touch of his skin against mine sent shivers down my spine.Mylong, slender fingers between his thick, large ones looked childish, andIstarted laughing hysterically beforeIcould stop myself.
Thatwas the dealbreaker, and the guests surrounding us had finally had enough.Thedance floor cleared out, butDamondidn’t notice.Thesingular attention remained on me for two more songs before my feet started hurting from the heels, and we returned to our table.
Afterwe settled in,Damon’sattention finally diverted to something else.Hefiddled with his phone over a message he received.Itseemed important becauseDamontensed when the reply he texted bounced back.
“I’llbe right back.Ihave to make a call, butI’mnot getting reception inside.”Hereached out and ran the back of his fingers across my cheek as if soothing the pain of the momentary separation. “You’llbe okay for a few minutes?”
Inodded. “I’lluse the bathroom while you’re gone.”Ipointed a thumb at the restroom sign.
Damonrose to his feet. “Okay.Aslong as you stay in this section.”
Ishrugged.
Heeyed me carefully before leaning down to press his lips against my temple. “I’mserious,Poppy.Stayhere untilI’mback.Thisis the only section of the club being monitored by my security.”
How?Wewere in an enclosed area.Didthey set up cameras before our arrival?Itwas too late to ask sinceDamonhad already walked away.
Ifollowed the bathroom signs, butIseemed to be moving at a glacial pace.Paddingto the bathroom took an excruciating amount of time for some reason.Itmust be my natural clock fighting off sleep.Withthe time difference, it was past midnight inNewYork.Ihadn’t stayed up this late in years.Afterusing the facilities,Itossed water on my face to wake myself up.
