CHAPTER TWO - LYSSA

 

This week started out bad and only got worse.

My father is back. Not that I ever thought he’d completely disappear, but I had hopes. It’s been two years since he really bothered me. There was one iffy moment last summer when he tried to tell me what to do and how to act. And that one weirdo who attacked me in an alley a couple months ago and made me morph into fight mode. But I’m not positive that last one was my father. I tell myself it wasn’t because I need to believe. Can’t be sure though.

I think I shut my father down well enough this week to make him disappear back into the shadows he oozed out of for a while.

I think.

I hope.

I need to believe.

My father was tenacious, I’ll give him that. He called and left messages on Monday and Tuesday, then tried to approach me outside a bookstore on Wednesday, and actually waited for me in my building lobby on Thursday.

I successfully navigated my way through all of that. Then Friday… nothing. I thought maybe he’d gotten the hint.

But no. He called today and left a message that I have duties and I will be fulfilling said duties no matter what.

It left me feeling shaky and scared. My heart palpitating with thoughts of past bad days. Things like getting fingerprinted in police stations, and mug shots, and sentencing.

So what should a girl do when faced with that kind of week?

Party, of course.

So even though I’ve had a bad week the club is super fun tonight. All my friends from college are here and it’s nice to forget about the shit going on in my life, even if it is only for a few hours.

I’m gonna stay until they kick me out. I’m gonna drink, and dance, and maybe, if I’m really lucky, I’ll find someone cool to spend the night with.

Can’t go home, that’s for sure. My father will probably be waiting for me in the lobby again. Or hell, inside my apartment. It used to be a complete sanctuary, but not anymore.

I’m not going to think about that. Not now. All that crap will be waiting for me tomorrow. Right now all I want is a good time.

So we dance. Me and my friends. They are not close friends, but still. Familiar faces are enough right now. I need old habits. I need casual acquaintances. I need something… anything… to take my mind off all the problems swirling around in my brain.

But it would be really nice to meet someone new too.

A stranger. Someone who knows nothing about me and who I am. What I have or what I could do for them. Not that I have much that’s my own. It’s almost all his, isn’t it? That’s why most men like me. For him. My powerful step-father.

So when I see the tall guy walking towards me on the other side of the dance floor, my heartbeat picks up speed. He’s a possibility. Kinda dark. Dressed in blue, not tan, like every other guy in here. Tight-fitting shirt and jacket, stubble on his face—just the right amount, because I don’t do beards—and a look in his eyes that makes me want to stare at him.

I smile. Turn my head a little. Flirting.

He smiles back, then looks quickly away.

Oh, what do we have here? A player? Maybe?

I’m up for a game of Who Can Fake Indifference While Showing Interest. I practically invented that game.

“Lyssa!” someone shouts in my ear.

I turn to see Greg, and almost forget about my bad week. Because this is why I live these days. Greg and all his secrets keep me going. I don’t even have to force the smile I flash at him. “Hey!” I say, leaning in to his neck so he can hear me over the thumping music. “What are you doing here?”

“I need the money,” he says. “I’m sorry to bother you like this but—“

“No,” I say. “No, no, no. It’s fine. I have it.”

I turn away and push my way through the crowd to the booth where I’ve stashed my purse under my summer jacket, then take out the cash and turn back to Greg, handing it to him.

“They’d like to talk to you,” he says. Looking down at me with his dark eyes.

“Oh,” I say. “Is that really necessary?”

I know it’s my responsibility to take care of this business, but can’t I just have one night where I don’t have to deal with problems? I rally, because it’s important to look the part, and say, “Twenty minutes, OK?” Because that stranger in blue is still taking up a major part of my slightly drunk mind and I don’t want to let him go yet.

“No problem. They’re out front. Can’t get past the bouncer,” he says. “I’ll wait out there with them.” Then he turns away and pushes his way back through the crowd.

I sigh, then frown, because I don’t really want to deal with this right now. I just want to dance, and drink, and forget. And what’s waiting for me outside is a reminder.

My past. Hell, my present too.

But when I turn, the handsome one with the flashing eyes is right behind me holding a glass of champagne.

“Drink?” he asks. “I just stole it from a waitress so I could make a good impression. So please,” he begs, charming me with a smile that reveals no teeth. One of those sly smiles. Very sexy smiles. And Jesus, when I look him up and down from close proximity, he is the whole package too. “Don’t shoot me down,” he says. “I don’t think my ego could take it tonight.”

I make a noise. One of those half grunts, half laughs. Because I’m pretty sure his ego could take it. I’m also pretty sure that no one shoots this man down.

“Mason,” he says, leaning down in my ear so he doesn’t have to yell over the music.

And then he takes my hand and kisses it.

“Lyssa,” I say, momentarily caught up in his spell. I take the drink.

“Nice to meet you, Lyssa.”

I think I blush. I never blush. I’m the one who makes men blush. Still, there it is. Heat creeping up my neck that makes all the hairs stand on end. “You too, Mason. I’ve never seen you here before. New in town?”

“Sure,” he says. Like he’s agreeing with me, but that’s not really true.

“Come to Billionaire Beach often?”

“No,” he says. “You?”

“All the time,” I say. “We have a house here.” Not that I’m staying there. But it’s not a lie. We do have a house here. All my friends from college do. And if this handsome devil didn’t just appear, I’d crash with one of them when the fun was over. But hey… there’s no law that says I have to go home with someone from Billionaire Beach now, is there?

He does one of those nods. The chin-lift kind. A nod of understanding, not really agreement.

Good going, Lyssa. One sentence and he’s already pegged you for what you really are. A spoiled little socialite.

“You wanna go somewhere and talk?” he asks.

I look at my watch. Because I did tell Greg twenty minutes.

“Or have you already made plans with that guy who just left?”

I huff a laugh. “Someone’s been paying attention.”

“I tend to do that when I see something I like.”

“You like me, do you?” I take a sip of the champagne, trying to appear nonchalant. Then take another because he’s just… staring at me. Almost hungrily. A shudder of desire shoots through my body.

“I like what I see so far,” he says, smiling again. Then he laughs. “That’s lame, right? I’m so off my game tonight. Don’t judge me, OK? I’ve had a bad week.”

“Oh.” I laugh. “No, I won’t if you won’t.” I laugh again. Only this time it’s a giggle.

I take another drink, then decide to just down it all in one gulp. I’m acting like a fool. Like a stupid schoolgirl.

And he doesn’t look like a man who dates schoolgirls. He’s definitely older than most people in this club. Over thirty for sure.

But I like it. I like it a lot. Older man. Younger woman. That’s hot.

“So who’d you come here with?” I ask.

“Just me,” he says, panning his hand down his body.

Which makes me take a second look. And then a third. Damn. He is very sexy.

“So what do you say?” he asks.

“Hmmm?” I mumble, unable to stop staring at his brilliant green eyes.

“Talk?” He laughs. “You wanna go somewhere and talk? This really isn’t my scene. I just came out tonight because I didn’t want to be alone.”

Oh, God. I’m dead. Because there is no way I’m not going home with him. It’s a humanitarian crisis. “You’re lonely?” I ask in disbelief.

“Don’t believe me?”

“Not for a second.” I giggle. I really need another drink. Or maybe I’ve drunk too much? I suddenly feel pretty buzzed.

“Come on,” he says, taking my hand and pulling me through the crowd. “I know a quiet place.”

And before I can even think twice, I’m following him. I dump my empty champagne flute on a table as we pass by, and then he’s leading me down the stairs of the VIP section, and towards the back of the club to the secret door where only me, and a few other important guests, get to enter and exit.

So… he’s somebody important, that’s for sure.

By the time we get through the crowd down on the main dance floor and walk through the maze of hallways that lead to the back exit, I’m stumbling.

He stops at the door and looks at me with concern. “You OK, Lyssa?”

I push my wild hair away from my eyes and nod. “Sure. I’m good.”

But when he opens the door and tugs me through it out into the dark, empty alley, I’m not sure I am.

Something is wrong with me.

The cool night air hits my face and I draw in a deep breath of relief.

Maybe it was just too hot in there. Because the wind refreshes me for a moment.

He stops in the alley and turns around, smiling.

“Better?” he says, his voice low now. Kinda growly and sexy.

“Hmmm, yeah,” I say, pushing my hair up off my forehead to let the air flow over me. “Much better.”

“You buzzed?” he asks. “I can get you a ride home if you’re not up to talking.”

He pulls out his phone, like he’s about to summon an Uber. But I place a hand over his phone and say, “No, no. I’m good.”

He smiles again. God, that smile should be illegal.

“Then come on. There’s a little alcove over here where we can have some privacy.”

I follow him. Mostly because he’s still got a hold of my hand and he’s tugging me along. But also because… I really don’t feel right.

I’m stumbling, and dizzy, and a little bit nauseated.

“Take off your shoes,” he says, stopping and bending down. He reaches for my ankle and his touch… Oh, God. His touch is soft and sends chills up my back. I actually forget about how sick I feel and picture him fucking me.

He slips off one gold shoe, sets it on the cement, then reaches for the other ankle and takes that shoe off too.

“Don’t worry,” he says, picking up my shoes in one hand and placing his other hand on my elbow to lead me. “I’ll take care of them for you. This way you won’t trip and fall. I can’t bring you in damaged.”

I laugh at that, finding it unreasonably funny.

Until the meaning of his words actually hits my brain and I realize what he just said.

“What?” I say groggily.

He looks over his shoulder as he pulls me around a corner and smiles.

And that’s when I see the van.

That’s when I realize what’s really happening here.

He charmed me.

Drugged me.

And now he’s gonna take me.