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It’s so quiet around me, the air completely dead except for the low rush of cool air that’s falling on me from above. I moveacross the bed, a far cry from the simple twin I normally sleep in. This is more like a king-sized. My feet hit the floor, and the air is chilly. Goosebumps pop up on my legs, the floor smooth wood under my toes. I shakily get up, feeling like the whole world is topsy-turvy, like it’s off its axis.
The room is large, with a bed that seems to dominate it. It’s made of wood, carved from a single slab, with posts rising up to the ceiling. Everything is cast in gray, and I mince toward the window, where the light is sneaking in. A chain rattles, my fingers brush it, and I wrap my hands around it, pulling at it.
A shade rolls up, and the room is flooded in light, and I gasp.
I’m overlooking a main street in Uptown, the daylight doing nothing to dull the sparkling beauty of the city. All around me, buildings reach to scrape the sky, their bold, geometric forms greeting the sun as it pours down over them. Everywhere is a riot of color, colored glass, shining vehicles as they beep at each other and make their way down the road below, and people, people everywhere.
The muted, tired shades of Lowtown have left my eyes stunted, and now I gape as sparkling dresses on women catch the wind below. Jewel tones drench this new world I’ve woken up into, and I can barely remember what happened last night, after Hadrion brought me here.
“Oh my God,” I whisper. How could I have ever thought I could escape to this place with my meager earnings that I’d stashed in my room in the trailer? This is a place for the famous artists, politicians, celebrities — I back away from the window, my throat a knotty lump.
This is a place for the rich, the powerful, and the famous. I am none of those things. I am the girl who works at the bar. I am the girl who lives in a trailer, who is poor and has nothing to show for it. And right now I’m also naked. A soft blast of air from above, a vent over the bed, reminds me I am nude and cold. A quick scan of the room tells me that my clothes from last night are gone. The only thing warming me is the embarrassing thought that somehow Hadrion stole my clothes while I was asleep. I don’t remember getting undressed, but I can’t imagine him doing that to me? Wouldn’t I have put up a fight?
No, I must have crawled into bed naked, unable to stand the dirty, dusty clothes from our fight and frantic flight from home to here—
The fight.
My stomach drops.
Is my sister okay? I need to find out. That puts some heat into me, and I cross the room to a tall wardrobe, carved wood that’s almost black with age, the light highlighting the birds and trees that are carved into its doors.
It opens without a creak, and the fabric peeks out at me. The wardrobe is crammed tight with clothing, the soft scent of perfume escaping, as if these items belong to someone else.
I glance around the room again, for hints that it’s occupied by someone else besides me, but the space is bare of any personal items, and there are no other doors besides the one I assume leads to the hallway.
I don’t have the time to wonder, because I need to find something to wear. My fingers close on the closest piece, a soft blouse that’s made of silk. It’s a pale pink color, and it’s so fineand thin it seems to melt through my hands. I hold it up, the light streaming through it and showing off a darker Peter-Pan collar, more of a red shade than the body of the blouse. Whatever it is, it’s good enough for me.
I slip the shirt over my head and let it flutter down over my body. It’s long enough to cover me, and the material feels good against my skin. There’s a black skirt, made up of a thin wool that I pull on, zipping up the waistband, a small button catching in my fingers before I get it fastened. There’s a low long dresser, and I open it up, hoping for socks, at the least, and—
Small rows of underthings, new and unworn from the look of them, and what kind of man has a guestroom stocked with women’s clothing?
My mind skips over the answer.
He said he’d been watching me, and he knew who I was, where I lived. Did that mean...he’d been stalking me?
I shudder, and quickly pull on a pair of white cotton panties, the band a little loose, telling me that these clothes are just here for anyone, not me specifically, setting my racing heart at ease somewhat. Socks follow, and I’m creeping toward the door. I don’t even know where my shoes are. I need to find them so I can get out of here and back to Lowtown, make sure my sister and dad are okay.
There’s a loud, muffled thump that reverberates through the floor and up through my bare feet, and then a voice, male and familiar, floats up to me. “Katy?” I open the door, and I’m on a large landing, the top floor of this apartment, I guess. There’s a sitting area in front of me, stairs to the left, and to the right, a hallway with several other doors in it.
Everything is painted in deep reds and grays, the floor a reddish-brown wood that sets it off. A skylight above the sitting area sends sun drenching down over the black leather couches.
I look down the stairs, and at the bottom, there he is.
Hadrion.
My throat squeezes, swallowing involuntarily.
He eyes me up.
“You found clothes, good,” he says, and I cross one arm over my chest, feeling my lack of bra acutely. The shirt is thin, and my nipples are already standing up, hard and visible. He very obviously smoothers a grin, and starts up the steps, his gaze on me the whole time.
“Where are we?” I ask him, backing up. He pauses, then continues up, his expression neutral.
“This is my club,” he replies. “And the place where you’re going to live now.” He glances behind him, waving a hand out. “You can make yourself at home today, and get used to things, meet the staff, all that. But first, did you find everything you need?” He’s on the landing in front of me, his eyes dragging down my body and I feel my face flush, the warmth of it creeping down the column of my neck.
“I didn’t want to wake you. You were passed out pretty hard. Figured you’d want something nice and clean, and your own clothes were...” He makes a face, and I grimace. “One of the girls can take you shopping later, if things don’t fit right. I usually keep things on hand for guests staying over.” He shrugs. “It can get messy in the club. Most people end up not able to leave in the same clothes they came.” He gives me a wicked smile at that, hisgolden eyes flickering with amusement at my discomfort.
“Oh.”
