Chapter 3
ANYA
Dad has to be out of his mind. Completely out of his mind.
Okay, sure, I get why he’s disappointed at my choices.
He’s not the first (and he won’t be the last) father who wants their daughter to have more secure jobs, like in accounting or as a lawyer.
Though Mom thinks my true duty is with marriage, Dad would have backed me up if I wanted to become something more prestigious.
He even let me go to art school—as long as I chose some minors in management and finances and the sort. I did, and I struggled for good grades until the end so Dad could see how invested I was.
Dad thought I would eventually abandon the writing dream once I figured out how hard it was. Once I gave up because I wasn’t good enough. He told me time and time again he’d be ready to help me with a realistic career choice.
I accepted that. Accepted his disbelief and my mother’s sexism. Once Dad started receiving his death threats, I accepted the bodyguard thing, even when I hated the idea of someone tagging along.
Now Dad wants to lock me in. I’m not supposed to leave the house, even with the bodyguard. As in ever. To that, I say hell no.
Tugging on my dress, I hold it down as I leave the Uber. It’s been a while since I wore this one. A cute little black dress that makes my pale skin and my blonde hair pop. I think I may have put on some weight since I last wore it because it hugs my thighs a bit too snugly.
Whatever. Tonight is about forgetting my father’s orders and having fun.
I wait for the sound of Sebastian’s heavy steps to follow me out of the Uber, the door slamming closed a moment later, then I make my way to the ticket booth on my right.
The Dark Dreams is a club downtown, known for its exclusivity, and this is my first time here.
I’d heard about it when I was in college, but I was never a girl for parties.
More for pajamas and books and tea, if you ask me.
But pajamas and books would only be what my dad wants, and I don’t want to be his good girl tonight.
No, tonight I want to be bad. Or as bad as I can.
I wait in line at the booth, then pay for two tickets.
Sebastian’s big, thick body shadows me as I approach the bouncer.
The man in front of me seems to wince and shrivel at the sight of Sebastian.
A tiny sense of pride burns inside me for no reason.
It’s not like Sebastian’s mine. Quite the opposite.
He made it clear from the first day he wanted nothing to do with me.
Yesterday, I tried to be sexy and tried to catch his eye. When I showed him the dress, he just growled. Was I that disgusting? He’s clearly uninterested.
The bouncer checks my ticket and lets us in. Sebastian approaches, the warmth of his body licking up my back.
“You should have waited for me to pay for the tickets,” he says in that low, rumbling voice.
I shake my head without looking back at him. “Why? This is not a date or anything. Consider it part of the service, Sebastian.”
He takes a beat. “Call me Bash.”
A shiver rolls down my spine from the spot where his warm breath touches my ear. I don’t know why, but the simple mention of calling him by a nickname makes me flush. Good thing it’s dark.
The club is all shadows and neon lights.
Blues and purples race across the walls, climbing up to the ceiling and then coming down in a rain of light.
Shards of pink and silver pump with the music, and I let my body move to the rhythm.
The electronic beat thrums in time with my blood, and I part my lips as I let the music wash over me.
Sebastian keeps close, closer than usual, as I make my way to the bar.
This place does look quite fancy. The counter is of a slick black material, futuristic and all angles.
There’s more purple neon here, illuminating the bottles taking up the walls, and the bartenders, all decked in black, juggling shakers and setting fire to cocktail glasses.
A small crowd waits by, watching the motions of a skilled barwoman.
I approach from the side, hopping onto a raised bench, then leaning across the counter once a girl my age comes closer.
“Hello there!” she says with a smile. “Welcome to Dark Dreams. What can I get you?”
“You sure this is a good idea?” Bash asks me. I turn to look at him, too close.
For a long minute, I’m frozen in time, hypnotized by his gaze on me. Then the sad reality that he doesn’t want me shakes me awake. “It’s just a club,” I tell him, turning back to face the bartender. “I don’t know!” I tell her, smiling back. “What do you suggest?”
“You like sweet or bitter? Strong alcohol?”
“I’m good with something mild and sweet.”
She winks. “Leave it to me!” And I watch her cut and mix and swirl, preparing a beautiful drink that looks like liquid cotton candy. She decorates it with swirls of orange peel before she slides it in my direction. “Enjoy!”
I take a sip and hum in delight. Wow, I don’t know what this is, but it’s exactly what I wanted. Sweet and delicious, and the burn of alcohol is not too much to handle. I gulp a second time, then turn to offer some to Bash. Not that he would accept it.
He’s not next to me, though. Instead, he’s standing with his back to the closest wall, almost invisible against the darkness. His eyes are still on me, but there’s something distant in the squared position of his shoulders. This is a job for him. Only a job.
A guy pops up next to me. “Hi! Are you looking for me?” And he winks.
“Mm, no, I don’t think we know each other.”
He chuckles. “I know. It was a joke. My name’s Adrian. Where are your friends?”
I arch an eyebrow and give him a once-over. He’s the standard good-looking guy, with dark blond hair brushed back and muscular shoulders. Not too tall or too broad. Exactly the kind of guy I was never attracted to.
“No friends,” I tell him.
“What?” He scoffs. “You’re not here alone?”
“Technically, yes.”
He shakes his head, circling me to get near the counter. “No way. I cannot believe a girl like you is hanging out by herself. Did you break up with your boyfriend? He’s mad to let you go.”
What is he even talking about? Is this what he considers sexy talk?
I twist my body to keep facing him, but I know I would never give this guy a chance.
He doesn’t make butterflies set flight inside me, not the way Bash does.
I open my mouth to send him off as he orders a glass of beer, but an idea takes form in the back of my mind.
He’s not my type, but Bash doesn’t know that. What if I let him talk, just to see how Bash would react? I’ve read this in romance. I could get Bash jealous, and then he might look at me differently.
With a smile, I force myself to chat with Adrian. He’s not amusing or funny, but I let him talk. He touches my exposed knee, and though I hate his hand on me, I let him. I hope Bash is getting an eyeful.
Once my drink’s done, I order another. Adrian orders the same, and we laugh at it.
Looking over my shoulder at the club beyond, I wonder if Bash is already jealous.
I want to dance. Adrian’s boring. When I turn back, both of our drinks are over the counter.
Adrian’s hand is flat on the bar as he grins at me.
He keeps on telling some story about his friends as I sip from my drink, sliding glances at the crowd behind me.
I’m so ready to leave this guy, even if Bash’s not jealous.
“Listen, Adrian, I...” My stomach flips, nausea gripping me. Whoa, what? What was that? Am I already drunk? “It was nice meeting you. I think I’m going to dance a little.”
He grins, slipping off his stool. I don’t think he’s had one sip of his drink. “I’m coming with you! Not much of a dancer, though. You should be warned.”
I shake my head, but my brain swirls inside my skull. This is so weird. I stumble off the stool, my limbs heavy, too heavy. “Shit. I think I drank too much.” There’s a strange mix of pain and numbness. I can’t control my body as well, as if I had taken the passenger seat.
Adrian reaches out, gripping my elbows. “Didn’t you eat before coming?” he asks, but his voice has changed. He’s not curious and good-humored anymore. I look up to see a strange light in his eyes. “I’ll help you to the bathroom.”
Looking over my shoulder at our drinks, I wonder if he drugged me. No, there’s no way. Right? Who would do that?
Adrian’s arm flings around my waist as if to help me up, but his fingers brush the underside of my breast. It’s not accidental, because they stay there as we take one step, then another, and now I’m sure of it.
He drugged me. He probably ordered the same drink so he could drug a glass and then swipe them without me noticing it.
I’m such an idiot. My limbs are heavy as I try to flail and fight against him, but he’s so much stronger and my body is so useless right now...
A hand grips around my arm and jerks me away. I stumble into a hard, warm body, face-first. Somehow, I know it’s Bash. I feel it’s Bash. My eyelids grow heavier, and everything is a mess after this moment.
There’s the sound of knuckles hitting flesh. Someone screams. I doze off, my body growing even heavier. Arms around me, cradling me to a hard chest. A rough voice asks me if I’m alright and how I’m feeling. Someone mentions an officer. Then I’m in Bash’s arms, being carried off.
I look up at him, and his eyes are so intense I can’t bear looking at them. His neck looks mighty comfortable, and I bury my face there, breathing deeply in.
He rumbles deep in his chest. “I’m taking you to a hospital, then home. You’ll be fine, Anya.”
My stomach feels funny when he says my name. I shake my head. “Not home. Please. Dad will kill me.” My voice comes out raspy. I don’t think he understands me. And no matter what he says, I drift into a deep, deep sleep.