Chapter 12 #2
Nova exits the car, and I’m left a bit flabbergasted at this new information. She stops in front of the SUV and looks back, waving at me to follow along before walking toward the furthest warehouse.
I hop out of the car and catch up to her. She holds out the key fob and drops it into my palm. “And these are yours. The SUV is what you can use to travel back and forth between the manor and the club. The directions are preprogrammed into the GPS.”
“Oh… Okay. And where are we going now?” I ask as we walk away from the club and toward the middle structure.
“The House of Angels,” Nova says with an airy tone, as if it’s some magical land.
When we get to the front doors of the warehouse, I take in the tarnished metal structure. Despite it looking like it’s about to crumble, the windows appear new, there are multiple cameras mounted in various locations, and the door’s solid.
Nova types in a code. “You’ll get your own code soon enough.
Rafael probably has one being programmed for you as we speak.
Each of us has a unique code so he can tell who is coming and going and when.
It’s a bit stalker-ish but he does it out of love.
” She giggles a little, as if talking about how an older brother would care for his little sister.
It makes me think of Ilya and how he can be a bit overbearing at times. Even though I’m the one who’s supposed to protect him, he’s always made sure I’m safe. Well, as safe as I can be with Alexey as Pakhan.
When she pulls me through, the large first floor is nothing like I expected. The floors are solid concrete but covered in warm rugs and multiple clusters of couches and chairs fill the space. The lighting isn’t overbearing, in fact, it’s only supplied by the soft glow of lamps or hanging lights.
A large kitchen with expensive oak cabinets and white granite counters sits in the far back corner, with a farmhouse table stretching along the back wall.
In the corner to my right stands multiple bookshelves, crowded and overflowing with literature, surrounded by an assortment of bean bag chairs, and a puffy, L-shaped couch.
The space is elegant, cozy, and lavish, and nothing I expected.
“Most of the girls will still be with their John’s, but we might meet a few who weren’t working last night,” Nova says, walking toward the spiral staircase to our left. There’s an identical one on the right.
“What about the men? I read there were three Angels who are men.” I follow her up, stunned silent by the space and find a similar layout on the second floor, a small living space in the middle, surrounded by rooms in a U shape.
“They stay on the main level; they all share a pretty large room.” She spins in a circle, clasping her hands in front of her as she watches my reaction to the place she calls home.
“There are three floors, the main floor, of course, then ten rooms on the second and third level. Communal bathrooms at either end.”
I remember the files and note there are currently thirty-six Angels and only twenty rooms. Seems like Rafael’s threat wasn’t an exaggeration, most of these girls do share a room. “The third floor is set up exactly the same.”
Nova heads back downstairs again and I follow, the cool metal of the spiral staircase filling my palm as I grasp the railing. “Cloud Nine should be closing; we can go over in a little bit. I need some coffee first.”
I follow Nova into the kitchen and take a seat at the large table while she fiddles in the cabinets, pulling two coffee mugs out and filling them with freshly brewed life-substance.
“Do you like cream?”
“Just black, please,” I say, and she passes me the mug.
She fills hers with a gallon of French Vanilla creamer and then comes to sit across from me.
Just before she can speak, both our heads turn at the sound of footsteps coming down the stairs. “Nova? Please tell me you didn’t use all the—” a woman’s bright blue eyes meet mine and she pauses. “Oh, sorry, I didn’t realize we had a new girl.”
“Not a new girl. This is our new physician, Doctor Lucy Sinclair.”
I stand as the woman hesitantly moves toward me, posture uneasy as she gives me a once-over. “You don’t look like a doctor.”
I try to not snap back with something snarky, trying to remember I’m supposed to be professional. “I get that a lot.”
"Sasha, be nice." Nova admonishes with a roll of her eyes.
Sassy Sasha flips her golden blonde hair over her shoulder when she walks past me toward the kitchen, repeating what Nova had done and pouring herself creamer with a splash of coffee.
She couldn’t be older than nineteen, and I can’t help but feel the urge to protect her, even though I now know she’s safe, in a sense, and she willingly does this kind of work.
She and Nova chat about her night, something along the lines of her John begging to be pegged and how she had never done it before but now understood the draw of doggy and anal.
I couldn’t deny the warming of my cheeks at the mental image she conjured. I may be experienced in many facets…okay, in maiming and murder, but she clearly highlighted my inexperience in all things sex.
As I finish my coffee, the door unlocks and I spot Enzo striding through the front door with the cockiness of a feral street cat.
His gaze narrows in on mine like a sniper rifle, dark irises gleaming with mischief as he strides toward us, smirking like the devil he is. “Good morning, beautiful ladies.”
Smug bastard. I try to hide the roll of my eyes, but I fail and turn back toward Nova. She lifts a brow at me, catching the slip of attitude.
Enzo leans against the table, palms planted firmly on the wood as he towers over the three of us. “Sasha, looking fresh this morning.”
“Thanks, E.” She grins shyly, attempting to hide her burning cheeks behind her mug as she tips it back to take a sip.
“Nova, love, I’m going to steal Little Doc from you.”
“Whatever floats your boat.” Nova also hides a grin in her coffee mug.
Enzo’s stare tracks me like a heat-seeking missile, never leaving my lips and grinning like a kid who got cake for breakfast. “Shall we?” His hand extends and I take it, standing slowly.
He abruptly pulls me close so our chests press together, and I suddenly realize I’m breathing much harder than necessary.
“Are you sure she’s not one of our girls?” Sasha says with an edge of jealousy and I bite back the urge to snap back at her.
“She’s not ours…” Nova says. “His though…” she whispers, leaving the end unanswered as Enzo drags me from the warehouse.