I was alive. Fuck, I was more alive than I’d ever been.
I threw myself into that kiss recklessly. I wrenched my arms forward, wrapped them around his neck, and moaned sweet, hot nothings into his mouth. I wanted him to drown me, to take me and rip me to pieces and leave me something else after he was through. I wanted to be mangled and maimed, and his teeth and lips could do it, could take me all the way and further and leave me stranded somewhere new.
He grunted in response as I bit him hard than swirled my tongue along his. The kiss was heaven, was sweetness and light and darkness and pain all wrapped up into one erotic, heady moment, and I didn’t want it to end, didn’t want to face the consequences of this stupid mistake, this bad decision brought on by a near-death experience. I didn’t want what came next.
I only wanted this, right now.
His phone began to ring. That was all that saved me.
Otherwise, I would’ve been lost. Consumed, right there in the back seat of a halfway-shattered limo.
He let out a frustrated growl and pulled back. His lips were puckered, pink and wet. I was soaked and desperate, my legs tingling for him to push them wide open and bare me.
“Go ahead,” I whispered, “answer it.”
I could tell he didn’t want to. But he ripped the phone from his pocket and held it to his ear. “What?” Silence as he listened. “Pay them whatever. We have contacts in the department. Call the chief if you have to.” More listening. “It was an accident. Make that clear.” Then he hung up and sat back in his seat.
The intensity deflated and I sat back staring ahead. All the fear drained from my chest along with the uncontrolled fear.
I felt vacant and drained.
“Anthony is taking care of the local cops. Roman must be insane, making a move in public like that.”
“A message.” The word sprang out fully formed.
He frowned, head tilted, and nodded slowly. “You’re probably right. But what’s he saying?”
“He doesn’t care where you are or what you do, he’s going to hunt you down and kill you for what you did.” I looked over and smiled. “Can you blame him?”
Darren said nothing, only retreated into himself and stared out the window.
I let him go. His kiss lingered on my lips, buzzing and wild, and if his phone hadn’t rung to break whatever insanity took over, I would’ve given him my body and every inch of myself if he’d wanted it. That stupid phone broke the spell, but I couldn’t be sure that would happen next time.
If there even was a next time.
Maybe Darren was wrong. Maybe Roman really did want me taken alive.
But I couldn’t act like that was going to happen.
Darkness above and darkness below, and me floating in the middle with nowhere to go.
11
Chika
Charleigh leaned back in her executive chair and steepled her fingers. She frowned at the screen mounted above the fireplace.
“He’s late.”
I checked my agenda. He was indeed late. It was not my fault, of course. I triple-checked this with his assistant.
But I had no power over Oligarchs.
It was a hard lesson to learn. One I did not enjoy.
Erin frowned down at her phone. “Give him a moment, Mother. You know how he can be.”
“You’d think he’d respect my time better than this.”
Erin only shrugged, already tapping away at something. That girl always looked at her phone, but it was a mask.
This house was full of masks.
She hid her attention. It was smart. Erin was a very smart girl—too smart. She kept that closed away from the rest of them, but I got glimpses, peeks.
I was invisible in the house. Charleigh’s assistant, her creature. Nobody cared much about me.
I was well paid and loyal.
Still, I watched. I paid attention. And I knew Erin was a brilliant person, maybe the most terrifying of all the Servants.
And they all scared me back to the pits of Hell.
My parents, they came here from Nigeria when I was a baby. They gave me all the opportunities immigrant parents want to give their children. All their money went to my schooling. I learned Judo as a little girl and excelled. I ran track, played volleyball. I got a scholarship to a prestigious school called Blackwoods College.
There, I was recruited by the Servant family.
I have been with them ever since. My parents, they think I work for a Fortune 500 company.
They are very proud.
They would not be proud if they knew the extent of that lie.
It ate at me, but I could not disappoint them. It would kill my mother. She was frail enough as it was.
The screen flickered, but the picture was fuzzy. A man’s face, pixelated.
“Chika.” Charleigh’s tone was sharp.
As if I could control the technology.