Chapter 4
Four
Persia
Urgency pushes me into the nearest car I can find. Whose? Who cares? Someone stupid enough to leave the keys in the ignition, for sure. Too bad for them when my father finds out.
I shove the ends of my dress in and peel out of our driveway. I won’t get far before my father has his enforcers drag me back. I can’t go into hiding with no money. I can’t go to the police. My father has all the dirty cops in his pocket. I have no friends. Not ones that can help me out, anyway.
I slam a fist down on the wheel.“Fuck!” I roar into the cabin and do it again and again until I can breathe without a band of steel locking my chest closed.
“I need a fucking drink.” Breaking every written law there is about speeding and traffic, I point my stolen car toward the center of the city.
Horn blare and there are a few people who think this is New York City and lean out their window to let me know their true feelings about my driving skills.
I hit down on the window button and shout my reply with a middle finger salute.
One more turn and I pull up to where I know my friends will be. The valet opens the door and I pour out with all the tons of my dress.
He takes in my smudged mascara and my lipstick. No doubt smeared from Magnus’ assault.
“It was one helluva party,” I manage without crying for the tenth time tonight and toss him the key fob.
“If you want it, you can have it.” I’ve got about twenty minutes before my father’s goons are on my ass.
I’ll be lucky if I’m let out of my room between now and the time Magnus ties me to his bed, much less need a car.
The cute valet boy who looks to be a year or two younger than me cranks his head toward the slate gray Beamer and then to me, his confusion morphing into immeasurable awe.
“No way, man. For real?”
“Yeah, for real. Enjoy.”
I turn on my heel and head for the elegant entrance to the Redthorn building when I mentally kick myself. I turn back and raise my voice. “Hey, just make sure you get it out of here in ten because my father will be here in twenty.”
“Oh yeah, who’s that?”
The guy beside him nudges the younger boy’s shoulder while he takes in my expensive dress, the revealing V cut to the neckline of my dress and then finally my face. It took him a good minute.
“Yo man, she’s the Governor’s daughter. Don’t be stupid.”
I offer a now blushing teen a kind smile and back up the other guy’s words with, “What he said.” Leaving it at that, I turn back to the entrance. As suspected nobody dares ask me for proof of ID or card me as I head for the elevators that will lead me to the exclusive Scarlet Thorn night club.
Thirty-five seconds later, I’m in an elevator heading up to the very last place I ever thought I would be on the night of my engagement.
I was one of those stupid girls who thought I would fall in love, have all the pretty flowers and parties celebrating the love and then live a happily ever after with the man I love.
Man am I stupid or what?
Soft music plays from overhead speakers. I take a look at myself in the reflective walls around me and try to fix my hair and lipstick the best I can.
I glide to a slow stop and when the door slides open to reveal white marble flooring, elegant gold chandeliers and a host waiting with a pen in front of a thick leather-bound book.
“Miss. Welcome to Scarlet Thorn. May I have your signature and then a hostess will be here to escort you to the floor of your choosing."
A man who looks every bit the gentleman he sounds like, produces a fountain pen. I take it and put my initials in the guest section given I’m not a member.
“I’m only here to meet with a couple of friends.”
“Understood.”
I’m not a full member of the Scarlet Thorn so I can only visit the lounge and bar areas.“If you follow Ms. Callaway, she’ll guide you through the guest lounge to find your friends.”
A woman in a black evening gown draped over ample curves steps into the greeting area and signals for me to follow her.
Red hair spills down her lengthy elegant back and her hips attract many onlookers as we move deeper into the Scarlet lounge.
Just like the name, the gathering area is either a deep red with accents of tasteful glimmering gold.
“Oh my god! Girl you came?” Kiara’s shriek of excitement startles me and the hostess.
“Thank you, Ms. Callaway. I think my friends have found me.”
I get a soft smile and then I’m left to my evening.
Kiara and Calla both weave through the tables of other guests, their delicate frames beautiful to witness as they carry themselves with learned grace.
They are the perfect picture of carefree and rich.
Daddy foots the bills and buys them anything they want.
Their parents are the people my father keeps close for their money and influence.
To me, Calla and Kiara have been what keeps me grounded in real life.
If I had one of those, anyway. Not that I would admit it outloud, but I live vicariously through them.
But I also know I can’t trust them with what life is on my side of the fence. They are not grounded in darkness and I can’t bring myself to rip them from all the sunshine and rainbows they think life is made up of.
I lock my knees and brace for impact. Arms come around me and I let the whole evening wash away as they wrap me in their hugs.
We grew up together, went to the same boarding school, and swooned over the same boys all the way through junior high.
When it came time for high school I was brought home to be tutored in the morning hours and schooled in the evening in all the things my father would need from a dutiful daughter and wife team that would help him get elected.
It sucked and I lost contact with Calla and Kiara for a while.
“Girl, you look like you ran a mile in heels. But that dress. My God you are beautiful.”
Kiara takes my hand and twirls me around to eye the monstrosity my mother squeezed me into.
Her sister stops the twirl and grabs me by the shoulders. “Why are you so smudged? Have you been crying? Who do we have to kill?”
I feel zero emotions right now, but I have to laugh at the protective stance they suddenly take over me.
I shift my shawl back into place. “No, but I would kill for some tequila shots.”
Kiara smiles and I already know she’s got the goods lined up.
“This way, babe.” Calla pulls me back to their table where a couple of guys have joined them for drinks. That doesn’t surprise me one bit. These two are hardcore flirts and I know for a fact they are not as innocent as their daddy wishes.
The second we reach their table, Calla pushes me into a chair opposite her and passes me a compact, a tube of red lipstick and a matching lipliner. I take them gratefully. She flashes me a wink. “I got you, babe.”
Kiara opts to sit in the lap of a blonde man who looks like he just walked off the runway. He’s polished head to toe and looks every bit the aristocrat he wants everyone to think he is. I mean, that’s the vibe I get from him anyway. I never was into pretty boys but I’m happy for my friend.
I force the wrecking ball playing havoc to my insides to stop tearing me apart for one second so I can talk without sounding scared. “Thank you.”
Tequila is pushed in front of me and I grab the shot glass and kick it back.
Burn baby burn. I grit through the heat biting the back of my throat and then put the glass down. It’s refilled instantly and I hit repeat.
“That kind of night, huh?”
Calla eyes my dress and then she looks behind me no doubt wondering where my bodyguards are.
“Everything okay?”
Her words say I care, but her lips are all over her man’s face.
“Yep. Peachy. Who are your guests this evening?”
“You haven’t met Garret and Samson. They’re visiting from Europe.”
I give them a polite wave, but my eyes are on two women walking past our table. They both have red envelopes in their hands and wear a look of mischief across their expressions.
“Nice,” I hear myself say but then another woman across the room joins the other two and heads into the back of the club.
“What are the red envelopes all about?”
Kiara and Calla look at each other over the rims of their glasses and then back to me.
“You don’t know about the red letter wishes?”
Calla pours me another tequila from the bottle on the table and then leans in. “Word is, Red Letter wishes are basically the hotline help button.”
I stop mentally cruising around the room and draw my full attention back on my friend. “Help hotline. Go on.”
Kiara takes over while the men they are with listen as intently as I am. She sits up on her man’s lap and leans toward me on her elbows like she’s revealing a guarded secret and well, it probably is.
“Yeah. Crazy right? It’s like magic. But definitely not free. You write what you want, put it in a red envelope and drop it in their wish box somewhere back there.”
My curiosity has me mirroring Kiara’s posture and leaning in as if we are sharing top secret details. “What kind of wishes do they grant? And for how much?” It’s not like I have money, but maybe they don’t charge money all the time. My V-card is worth something.
Don’t judge me. Not until you have your life ripped away and promised to a man as slimy as Magnus Sterling.
Calla shrugs a slender shoulder. “Any kind, I guess. They are the mafia. I don’t think morals guide them as much as money does.”
True. “Do they always grant your wish?”
Kiara shakes her head, causing the tendrils of blond hair framing her heart-shaped face to dance. “Don’t know, babe. If they decide you’re worth their time I guess they do.”
Interesting.
Kiara’s face enters my line of vision when I look up from the golden liquid of my tequila. “I see your wheels turning. What are you thinking?”
I shake my head and grab for the makeup on the table. “Nothing. Just curious.”