19

 

 

Harlow didn’t expect to be locked up in Hagan’s den for long.

Turned out that assumption was wrong.

Day faded to night and the security guard brought her food without offering her a word. Eating wasn’t an attractive idea, so she ignored the meal and just waited.

There was no clock and Harlow wasn’t wearing a watch. All she could do was think. Being alone with her mind didn’t help keep her calm.

To break up the time, she went into the bathroom to splash water on her face. By the time she returned, the food tray was gone from the unit by the door. On the off chance the guard might have been neglectful, she went over to try the door again, but it was still locked.

Turning her back on the door, she was about to slump against it when she noticed that the couch had been pulled out into a bed.

Alarm shook her.

Ryske.

All she wanted was to see Ryske and be free of this room. Realizing that Hagan’s promise to imprison her was going to stretch beyond a few hours was a blow that she couldn’t comprehend. A bed. That meant Hagan wanted her to stay the night.

Harlow shouldn’t have made assumptions. This was serious. More serious than she could’ve imagined. It didn’t matter that the room wasn’t so different from a hotel room, she wasn’t in it by choice. That made it a prison cell.

This was so far removed from any life she knew. In suburbia, being locked up and held against her will wasn’t a realistic possibility. Now it was her reality.

Without knowing Hagan’s plan, Harlow couldn’t anticipate his next move or design an escape. That meant she wouldn’t be able to warn Ryske either, and she cursed herself for not keeping in closer contact with him and his crew.

Since he’d left her place, they had only seen each other when she went to Floyd’s. With the way things had ended on the street, Ryske probably assumed they were finished for good. That’s what she’d implied while rebuking his advances. Ryske wouldn’t be looking for her, none of them would.

Clyde wouldn’t care if she disappeared, not after the way he’d been treated by her friends. Gina would notice if she didn’t show up for work, but Hagan seemed to have some kind of influence there that didn’t fill Harlow with confidence. If he called Gina and asked to have her as his own personal social worker, pertaining to whatever story he’d spouted, would she fall for it?

Harlow’s nightmare only got worse. Hagan wasn’t satisfied with holding her for a single day. One day became two, became three, and she began to lose hope that she’d ever leave the den. No one was coming to her rescue, hope for that dwindled with each day that passed.

Security guards brought her food and clothes, and the bathroom was available for her to use as needed and for water. Brash came in a few times to taunt her and just be annoying, which seemed to be his specialty. She hadn’t seen Hagan, and had lost her sense of humor… not that she’d really had one about being locked up.

According to the number of nights that had passed outside the windows, Harlow figured out that they’d reached Saturday. Her theories about Gina had grown more sinister by the day. Before this Hagan mess, Harlow had wanted her superior’s respect, now she had little regard for the woman in return.

If she was irresponsible or a recluse, it might be understandable that her work could accept her disappearing after, or rather during, a client meeting. But Harlow had never missed a minute of work either in suburbia or since starting her new job in the city.

When she got away from Hagan’s and back to the office, she was going to talk to Gina about security measures. In her head, she’d already drafted a memo recommending that it would be a good idea to have some sort of alarm system instituted whereby everyone had to check in, in person, with their supervisor or colleagues every hour or two. They certainly shouldn’t be able to vanish for a week, no matter the excuse they were given by clients.

There was a chance she was jumping to conclusions and was willing to be proved wrong. The cops could have been to Hagan’s to ask questions. Maybe Gina had reported her missing.

The obstacle to her freedom was Hagan’s wealth and potential influence. If he said she wasn’t at his apartment, law enforcement may just accept his word. Especially if he gave them Ryske’s details as a new lead and hinted that there was a romantic connection.

But she doubted Hagan would be that dumb. If the cops showed up in Floyd’s asking questions about her, Hagan’s hand would be tipped. The Floyd’s crew would learn from the interrogation that she was missing and that could prompt them to start looking.

Could. But it wasn’t guaranteed.

Maybe Ryske had heard she was missing and thought to hell with her. But no…

The den door opened, interrupting her contemplation. Lifting her head from a pillow, she didn’t expect to see Hagan entering.

It wasn’t enough that he was present, he’d come to visit wearing a tux and carrying something that looked suspiciously like a dress.

He tossed the fabric onto the arm of the couch. “Put it on.”

Picking it up, she untwisted the red silk, and found it was a maxi dress with a plunging neckline and a leg slit that ran far higher than any she’d ever choose for herself.

“Why would I do that?” she asked without doing him the courtesy of even standing up.

“Because you want to see him,” he said. “Put on the dress or spend another week in here while I decide what to do with you.”

Though it was a threat, it wasn’t one that involved shedding blood… necessarily. After a week of being trapped in this room, she was eager to get out. Getting out was progress. Defying Hagan just for the hell of it would mean staying locked up and helpless. Changing her clothes and going with him would at least be a change in circumstances.

Even if Harlow got out there and learned that Ryske wanted nothing to do with her, she still wanted to warn him about Hagan’s venom.

“Fine,” she said and got up to head for the bathroom.

“Where are you going?”

Holding up the dress in her fist, she didn’t even care that she’d be crushing the silk. “If you want me to put on the dress, I’ll change in private. Otherwise, I’m just as happy to go wherever you want me to go in what I’m wearing now.” Which was grey sweatpants and a black vest. After checking out her apparel, Hagan stepped aside. “Yeah, that’s what I thought.”

“And make some sort of effort,” Hagan said.

Harlow had to think fast after facing him. He tossed something at her, which she only just caught.

Flipping it over, she took a few seconds to recognize it as a compact makeup kit. “What’s this?”

“Think classy,” he said and looked at his watch. “And hurry up.”

Earlier in the day, she’d been given hair products and a narrow window of time to wash her hair. With this visit and the dress, the reasoning behind the products became clear. Hagan had dictated his regime to her and she hadn’t even realized it.

Tonight was more than progress, it was part of his agenda. Harlow just had to figure out a way to make sure it suited hers too.

 

 

Clinging to the silk of her dress, holding the two sides of the leg slit together, Harlow didn’t want anyone ogling her.

If she’d been alone in the back of the sleek limo with Hagan, she may have made an attempt to leap from the vehicle and run at the first set of lights. But, as it was, she was flanked by two broad security guards who didn’t leave much room for her to maneuver. Hagan had also made a show of locking the doors while glaring at her as soon as they got in.

After almost a week locked inside Hagan’s apartment, it had been nice to feel the air on her skin in the short walk between Hagan’s building and the car. The relief had been too brief and the pendulum had swung back the other way. With so many people in the back of the vehicle, stifling her, Harlow was uncomfortable in the humidity created by body heat and breath. Not that she’d have expected to be comfortable in the presence of Hagan and his minions.

Harlow tried to forget about the lack of space and began to speculate about what might happen when they got to wherever they were going. Throughout the ride, she held onto the hope that Ryske might be the prize at the end of this journey. Though that would only be a positive if she was allowed to speak to him… preferably before he threw a punch.

If Ryske reacted to Hagan the same way he’d reacted to Clyde, it could cause problems for all of them. But given that their last encounter had ended with him walking away from her without looking back, there was a chance that his fondness for her had dwindled.

Time to reach conclusions was short. They only drove a few blocks before the car pulled to a stop. She tried to lean forward to see where they were, but couldn’t pick out many specifics. There was a red carpet on the sidewalk, and a posse of people in groups of various sizes.

The door was opened for them. After Hagan got out, a security guard followed and then the one left inside forced her out and straight into Hagan who crowded close while security penned her in against him.

“If you think about doing anything stupid,” Hagan said. “I’ll see to it that your lover gets more than a scratch. Smile and play nice.”

Snatching her wrist, he forced her hand into his elbow and smiled, waiting for her to reciprocate. Once she did, exaggerated as her false grin was, Hagan was satisfied enough to take them inside what appeared to be a hotel lobby.

Everyone was moving in the same direction, towards the open double doors of a grand ballroom. They went into the bustling space. Over the susurration of conversation, classical music was being played on stringed instruments, and it seemed everyone held a flute of champagne. Harlow didn’t care about that. Nothing about this meant anything to her.

Although her only choice was to stay next to Hagan because he still had her in his clutches, her eyes were wild. Her frantic gaze searched left and right, looking for any sign that someone she knew might be around. Someone like Ryske or Maze or any of the Floyd’s crew.

Despite his heritage and the place he called home, Harlow had no trouble believing that Ryske could fit in here. With a suit and a smile, he’d fit in anywhere. It was harder to imagine him coming here looking for a good time.

But Hagan had implied that he’d be here, hadn’t he? Ryske had to be up to something, general networking or maybe a specific meeting… could be he was just plain working. Maybe someone in the ballroom was a mark. Was she going to find him in the midst of a seduction? How did she feel about that?

Harlow didn’t know how she’d feel. Well, yes, she did. It would sicken her to see him with another woman. She’d feel jealous and angry and uncomfortable, but wasn’t that exactly why Ryske didn’t want to make her promises?

Hagan took her to the bar and ordered drinks. Once the bartender turned to fill the order, Hagan retrieved a glass of complimentary champagne from further along the bar. “Drink this,” he said, putting the glass in her hand.

“Why?”

The liquid wasn’t likely to be tainted, he’d pulled it from an anonymous pack of other glasses that were being picked up by others at random. It would’ve been extremely difficult for Hagan to ensure the one he’d arranged to be tainted for her wasn’t picked up by someone else. With the ever changing grid of glasses, it would also be difficult for him to know which the tainted glass was.

She took a sip, it was good, but Harlow still didn’t understand why he wanted her to drink it. “The drunker you are, the better.”

Under other circumstances, she’d say there was something admirable about honesty. This time, it just turned her stomach.

Putting the glass aside, Harlow propped herself on a stool. “Is that your idea of a seduction?” she asked. “I could believe it’s the only way you can find a willing woman.”

He laughed. The sound was warmer and seemed more intimate than his previous attempts. “Not at all,” he said. “Though if the evening goes that way, I wouldn’t object.”

Almost snorting, she wasn’t hesitant to deliver a truth of her own. “It won’t.”

“Then I’ll have to settle for loosening your tongue in a different way.”

“That’s a risky strategy,” she said, smiling at the bartender who brought their drinks, though she had no intention of drinking from the new glass he’d provided either. “You might hope to get information from me that serves you. But I’m as likely to start mouthing off about what you’ve done to me.”

“What have I done?” he asked. “You’ve spent a few days living at my hospitality, that is all. No one has hurt you.”

“Imprisonment is imprisonment. Torture comes in different forms.”

The warmth of his gaze cooled. Receiving a glare from him was satisfying. Harlow wanted to push his buttons and didn’t want anyone in this room to think they were friends much less intimate. The more time he spent glaring the better, and she’d return the sentiment without hesitation.

In an abrupt change, his scowl flipped to a glorious smile and he took a half step to the side. “Oh, you are beautiful,” he said, opening his arms. “A vision.”

The words weren’t for her, and neither was the smile. His attention had switched to something, or rather someone, behind her. Suffering proverbial whiplash from his sudden change in demeanor, Harlow twisted in her stool to see what had taken his attention. A gorgeous blonde was coming toward them, returning Hagan’s smile. The woman went into his arms, and they kissed each other’s cheeks.

“You are as handsome as ever,” the blonde said, her voice a sultry purr.

Her smile became a begging pout, making Harlow wonder about this woman’s connection to the man who’d held her prisoner all week. If the two were lovers, the blonde wouldn’t be pleased to see Hagan at this function with another woman. Harlow knew the woman had no need to be jealous. There wouldn’t be a cat fight tonight. If the blonde wanted Hagan, she could have him.

“I know that face. What do you want?” Hagan asked the blonde.

Whoever she was, Hagan knew her well enough to read her expressions and address her with a fed up groan that was familiar and almost teasing.

“Do you have a minute for Christian Hyslop?”

Oh, a new person could mean an opening for her. Harlow perked up. Neither Hagan nor the blonde looked at her, but she was already scanning the room trying to pinpoint the nearest exit. Except, his security guards were no doubt still watching her. Would she get away with sneaking out?

Hagan exhaled. “I suppose you…” The blonde stepped aside to sweep an arm toward a man standing about fifteen feet away. “Okay, but no more. I don’t want a night of this. And just one minute.”

Nodding, the blonde kissed his cheek again, and spun around to watch Hagan head for the man she’d referred to as Hyslop.