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I’m so distracted that when the elevator stops and the doors open, I automatically step out. I don’t even realize I’m on the wrong floor until a half-naked, crying girl comes running toward me, her head turned to the side, as if she’s expecting someone to chase her.
Just as she’s about to run right into me, her head swivels back and she skids to a stop.
“Please help me,” she whispers. Black streaks of mascara run down her pretty face. “Get me out of here.”
“Okay,” I say.
I’m confused, but my arm goes around her shoulder immediately, and I lead her back to the elevator. My fingers jab at the button over and over.
The sound of a door slamming makes the girl jump, and then I hear it: a familiar masculine voice.
“Tracy! Tracy, sweetheart, get back here so we can talk this over.”
“Oh, God,” she moans, her body shaking as we impatiently wait for the elevator to arrive. “Do something.”
My eyes fall on a gray door with a red exit sign above it. Stairs. I lead her toward it and open it quietly, ushering her through as quickly as possible.
“Head downstairs and ask for Bruce Douglas. He owns this place. Tell him what happened to you.”
“What? I can’t do that! Do you know who that was?”
I nod. “Yes, I do. Just trust me. Tell him Ivy sent you.”
“Okay,” she says at last before scurrying down the steps.
When she’s safely down the stairs, I open the door a crack. Jacob Taylor is barreling down the hallway, no doubt looking for the girl I just helped. When he stops in front of the elevator, his head swivels until his eyes land on the door leading to the stairs.
My feet are like cement, and I trip over them, trying to hurry away, but it’s no use. The door opens wide, revealing a very smug Jacob Taylor.
“What are you doing here?” he demands.
“That’s none of your business,” I spit back.
“Yeah, well, your business is being spread all over the news. Why didn’t you tell me you were such a kinky little bitch?”
His words sting like a sharp slap across my face, but I try hard to mask my emotions.
“You like being tied up?” He takes a step forward, licking his lips. “What else do you like? Spankings? Whips and chains?”
He reaches out a hand toward me, but I knock it away. “Don’t you dare touch me.”
“Feisty one, aren’t you? I like a good fight every now and then. Keeps me on my toes.”
My eyes narrow. “Is that what happened with your date? The one who came running down the hallway?”
His eyes bulge. “You don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about.”
“I don’t, but she does. I bet she’s spilling her guts to Mr. Douglas right now.”
Jacob pounds his fist against the cinder block wall.
“FUCK!” His roar echoes off the walls of the stairwell. “I’ll deal with you later.”
As soon as he disappears, I push through the door and frantically wait for the next elevator. I think I figured out who’s behind the photographs, and Ford is going to be pissed.
