42 - Jocelyn
~ 42 ~
JOCELYN
I barely had time to even cry out. One second I was returning an empty tray to the bar, the next I was being pulled through the doorway and onto the back terrace.
“I—”
Whatever I might’ve said was lost against the clang of the metal platter hitting the pavers. The door slammed closed. Pain, burning hot, flared in my wrist.
“Where is he?”
It was cold outside, especially in the growing shadow of the enormous house. When I saw who had me, the chill only deepened.
“Where’s who?”
“Don’t fuck with me, Emily!” The expression on Victor Knox’s face was outright deadly. “Where’s Foley?”
“Sleeping it off,” I answered smoothly.
He growled like a bear. “Sleeping what off?”
“Oh, right,” I smirked, immediately going on the offense. “Don’t pretend you don’t even know. You were the one who dragged me out there, threw me to the wolves. You’re just lucky I was into it.”
Beneath his darkening scowl, I could see him studying me for any trace of falsehood.
“How’d you know, by the way?” I asked sweetly.
“Know what?”
“That I’d even be into it.”
Victor frowned. Beneath it, he looked somewhat uncomfortable.
“I was, of course. But you didn’t know, and you brought me out there anyway.” I set my hands on my hips. “You really could’ve asked.”
“Foley wanted you,” Victor said simply. “He’d been asking about you all last night.”
“Why didn’t he make a move, then?” I asked. “Why send you?”
“He didn’t. I was only doing him a favor.”
I could only imagine the ‘favors’ these men had been using as currency, within their closed little circle. Just thinking about it made me sick.
“And he’s still not up yet?” I prodded, playing dumb.
Victor’s scowl returned, but this time it was slightly less accusatory. “He’s missing.”
I shrugged, coyly. “Well I’m not surprised. He expended a lot of energy, if you know what I mean.”
The twisted smile I added was meant to sell my story, and assuage his fears. But Victor was smart.
“So you’re saying he’s sleeping…”
“As far as I know,” I sighed in mock exasperation. “Last I saw him, he was snoring like a lumberjack’s chainsaw.”
The temperature dropped again, sending a new ripple of goosebumps along my exposed arms. I shivered as I crossed them over my chest.
“Can we go back inside now?” I grumbled. “Or was there someone else you’d like to pimp me out to?”
Victor squinted down at me, shifting uncomfortably. Those liquid black eyes that were so confident a minute ago now looked unsure.
“Here,” I snapped, pulling the towel from my waist and shoving it into his arms. “ You serve the drinks, and I’ll go to the mercenary meeting. Be sure to let Raif know, though. He’s not going to be thrilled, especially since—”
“Fine,” Victor barked loudly. “Go.”
I snapped the towel back from him and marched away, before he could change his mind. The others would already be looking for me. I needed to get back before the whole thing blew up prematurely.
The door of the ballroom swung open just as I reached it. I was slammed in the face with a food-scented wave of heat and noise.
“What the hell are you doing out there?” Bishop asked, ushering me back inside.
“Long story.”
As I stormed past him, I noticed his handsome face was painted with uncharacteristic levels of concern. His chef’s outfit was a complete mess, stained with a dozen different sauces and purées.
“There’s a problem, isn’t there?” I asked with dread.
Bishop nodded quickly, as I prepared myself for the worst.
“Alright, what is it this tim—”
“Raif’s gone.”