Chapter Twenty-Eight #2
Turning into an open room, we were surrounded by strangers with jewels large enough to choke on dangling from their poor earlobes.
Suits were finely pressed, shoes shined to perfection, dresses of material from the heavens, and sapphires, emeralds, and diamonds straight from the cave floated around us as if it were a casual Tuesday brunch.
Waitresses and waiters danced around with trays of wine and finger foods I couldn’t have named if I’d tried. Fancy shit. Though, from my experience, the more expensive the wine, the worse it tasted. Stay cheap, stay happy. Maggie and I lived by that.
Taking glasses from one of the trays, Laken wrapped an arm around my lower back, and we weaved through the crowd as best we could.
The good thing? Nobody seemed to care about anyone else.
They stayed with their groups or partners.
It made it all the clearer—we were not here to make friends, and the less others knew about you, the better.
Raising my glass, it took one sip to confirm I’d been right. If they told me I drank sweat from the sock of a fisherman during the summer on a hot day, I’d believe them. Seemed we’d be getting through these events sober, which was probably for the best.
Unlike the main hall, this room had four halls—two on each side—and one massive set of double doors. Those, with six sets of iron locks, must have led to the auction room. Leaving one of the other four as our way to the pigs.
“We should’ve made code names.” I leaned into Laken, his body blocking mine from most of the room to lower the risk of anyone hearing us.
“Code names?”
I nodded. “Yeah, I’ll be Darling, and you can be Garbage Gobbler.”
Laken, with his ruinous golden grin, inched closer to me. “Darling, do you want to find somewhere a little more private?”
I let a smile break my lips, despite how badly I didn’t want to.
I knew us flirting and being all over each other would work, but…
I didn’t love the idea of having to force it as if my heart weren’t turning into stone.
I’d make out with Laken any day for any reason at the drop of a coin—except when he was leaving and my stomach roiled at the thought of it.
But he led me down one hall after another.
The first two halls matched the rest of the house: red-tiled floor, black walls, secretive, and, dare I say it, scandalous.
We found nothing but bathrooms and private-party rooms, where the rich, rich people were.
The third hall we entered, however, immediately stood out.
Laken and I glanced at each other, hand in hand, pulling one another along.
A wooden door posted at the end with a window allowed light from outside in.
The only door so far leading out of the building.
Laken squeezed my fingers and nodded to the tiles, which were no longer a beautifully reflective red, but red smeared with dirt and boot prints.
The pigs must’ve been right outside the door, or their sty was.
Jingling noises came from the other side of the door, and our heads snapped up so hard my neck cracked.
With my soul already writing its eulogy, I accepted our fate of being turned into pig food.
We were too far down the hall to make it out without looking suspicious. There were no other rooms to hide in.
However, someone had a plan after all.
Laken’s hands on my waist shoved me back, pressing my body against the wall as if they’d done it a thousand times…
because they had. Against the stairwell leading up to my room, against the wall behind Rabbit’s Foot, against the bookshelves at Wilson’s (so sorry, Wilson; it didn’t go any further than kissing, I swear), and most likely more places than that.
His hands knew where to go, they knew where to trace my curves, and exactly how to do it. His hands belonged on me.
So why was I terrified they wouldn’t find their way back to me?
A brush of his lips on my neck sent those thoughts scattering, along with the creaking of the door as it opened. For the pigs, I reminded myself. I did this for the pigs.
“If you two are done, this area is off limits,” a stern voice called as a guard stepped inside. He shut the door behind him, locking it.
“And if we aren’t?” I laughed, letting my gaze travel up and down the guard a little too slowly.
“Then I suggest you find another room, or better yet—leave.”
Okay, Gods. I frowned and pouted as Laken stepped back from me. The guard watched us all the way to the set of massive doors, now held open by some sort of employee in black pants and a white tucked-in shirt. With no other options, we entered.
Whether it was because of the inconceivable number of chairs or the sheer vastness of the auction room, I couldn’t breathe.
A stone pillar with an upper floor, where we were, and a bottom floor, where the cages were, enclosed around our bodies as we stood frozen in time.
Or—I stood frozen in time until Laken tugged me along.
The upper layer consisted of five rows of chairs encircling the bottom—high enough to be out of fire-breathing danger, judging by the smoke smudges trailing up the stone.
The bottom floor, however, had one large cage in its center.
Several doors lined the walls. Someone had enchanted daylight over the dome glass roof; a twirling gust of golden, dusty beams floated with tiny sparks falling around.
With the mansion, the ceilings, the clothes, the chandeliers, and the roof…
I lowered myself into the seat by Laken, leaning in close to keep our conversation private.
“You think someone is compensating for something?” I nudged.
“Undoubtedly.”
“Probably never loved as a child and to make up for it, he buys his peers’ love and respect. If that’s what you’d call it.”
“And even then, they’re all lying to his face. Even his wife—”
“Who’s in love with his best friend.”
“Who’s not as rich and cannot offer the things he can.”
Frowning, I shook my head. “A damned shame.” The burn of Laken’s stare on my skin called me to face him, and our eyes met like an eclipse—entirely engulfing one another. The world slowed its pace and the dangers of tonight no longer peeled at my flesh.
Doors slammed shut. The lights flickered off and on to reveal a man standing in the middle of the bottom floor.
He wore a dark-green suit adorned with gold accents, but the white fluffy tunic caught my attention more.
Ruffles peeked out from underneath the vest, nearly taking away from the dangling earrings.
Dark hair flowed over his head and sat atop his shoulders.
He could’ve been cosplaying for all I knew.
With a grim smile, holding his arms out to welcome us, the show began.
“Thank you all for gathering under my roof tonight…”
I should’ve listened to the words from his mouth, but I didn’t. I couldn’t. My mind fiddled around elsewhere. The fundraiser, Laken, how hot the room felt. Gods, did it double as a sauna?
The plan was to wait until the auction got good and going, that way the security would lighten up outside as we’d been shut in. I knew my role, and Laken knew his.
Shifting uncomfortably in my seat, I glanced around for an open door but came up empty-handed. Which left sweet-talking a guard.
As quietly and quickly as I could, I pranced up the concrete steps.
The closest guard to me stood over six feet tall, with black hair and a close-shaved beard.
The crimson uniforms they wore appeared more of a scarlet under the enchanted roof, his specifically decorated with pins and ribbons.
As I got closer, eyes of inky black aimed at me as if armed.
Cold, stern eyes with tired bags underneath.
He had to be at least thirty and could probably squeeze my head like a grape with his bare hands—making him the perfect target.
“You’re going to miss the show, lady.” He spoke as heavily as a double-bladed sword, and my neck probably looked like a good hit.
Perhaps I should’ve jumped into the bottom with the creatures, seemed less shameful. But Blaze, Reece. Phoebe. Indo. All of them. Fucking hell.
“Yes, but I need the ladies’ room.”
He lifted his chin, exposing a nasty white scar on his throat. “Not possible.”
Okay, I knew how this would go. My light, trying-to-be-nice expression dropped into a deadpan stare. “Do you know how it feels to bleed for seven days—and survive? Once a month?”
Gawking, he shook his head, loosening his composure. “No?”
Straightening my shoulders, I leaned in. “I can show you.”
He grimaced, a flash of disgust painting his features as his eyes traveled up and down my existence. “Second hallway on your left, three doors down on your right.”
Perfect. When in doubt, talk about periods. Men are cowards. “Thank you.” I hurried through the door he opened but wanted to pinch myself as it shut behind me.
What was I supposed to do next? Panicked, I pivoted left and right, flinging my hands around like a confused traffic director in a horse jam. Bathroom? Go to the bathroom? I took two steps. No—pigs! Save the pigs! Third hallway! Third hallway!
Darting down the hall with wobbling ankles, I dashed to the wooden door, but the round iron wheel wouldn’t budge.
Locked. I tried again; despite the fact my arms and muscles were puny, I thought maybe if I twisted hard enough it’d work.
But nothing. I took a step back. Maybe if I study it from a different angle—
Stampeding footsteps roared from behind me, and before I got the chance to turn after nearly shitting myself, someone’s hand covered my mouth as we slammed into the door with a flash of light erupting behind us.
Did I die?