“Yes, of course,” Archer said with a soft smile she was sure was meant to reassure her. It didn’t work. As if he knew that, his voice softened. “Rhys would like to see you again and requests I bring you to Phoenix.” He hesitated. Then his expression went utterly gentle, which on a face with such striking features looked pretty dreamy. “Believe me, Rhys only wants to
have the talk he requested last night. Nothing to worry about.”
“Ah…” She blinked, processed, and then managed, “Hold on a second. The man I was with last night was Rhys Harrington, the owner of Phoenix?”
Archer smirked. “Yes.”
She had to pick her jaw off the ground. What in the holy hell? She thought the masked man had been some random guy. Albeit, she didn’t know the ins and outs of the sex club. “Does Rhys always do the shows?”
“Not always, no,” Archer explained, his thumbs tucked into the pockets of his jeans. “But he always handles any sensitive ones, so he knows everything is being done correctly.”
Like a woman offering up her virginity, apparently.
Zoey blinked. Again. “Am I in trouble?”
Archer laughed softly. “No. Why would you be in trouble?”
Ah, because my best friend hacked into your security system and I manipulated and lied my way into a very private club.
Archer watched her thoughts play out on her face before he offered, “Let me give you a piece of advice. I have known Rhys for a very long time; when he says he wants to talk to you, it’s not a suggestion. You either come now, or he’ll come to you later. Trust me on that.” Archer moved to the passenger-side door and opened it. “If it makes you feel better, there are security cameras there.” He pointed above the clinic’s door. “And there.” He gestured across the street. “There’s evidence you are with me. But also, text your roommates, let them know you are going to the cigar club and who you are going with. Let them know I’ll bring you home after, I promise.” He reached into his back pocket and pulled out his drivers’ license from his wallet. “Take a picture and send it to your friends.”
From the first time she met Archer, he’d done everything and anything to make her feel safe and comfortable. And the truth was, she did. “Okay,” she said, reaching into her purse. She took the photo then fired off a text to the girls in their group chat.
I’ll meet you at the restaurant tonight. Rhys Harrington wants to see me. I’m going to the cigar club now.
Elise’s text came in an instant. Are you in trouble?
Don’t think so. I’m with Archer, the head of security at Phoenix. Here’s his id. I’ll call if I need you.
Yes, do!
Hazel’s message popped up. What? Holy shit? Rhys-fucking-harrington? What’s happening? OMG, i need to know everything!!
Zoey chuckled and tucked her phone away. Poor Hazel was going to be a mess until Zoey figured out what in the hell was going on. She glanced up at Archer and gave a soft smile. “We’re good.”
“Excellent. Hop on in.” He gestured her inside.
In minutes, they were on the road. The drive into Manhattan took longer than normal due to rush-hour traffic, but Archer’s small talk made her feel comfortable. Until they crossed from Brooklyn into Manhattan, when her stomach roiled and a hot flash rushed across her, leaving her back sweaty against the seat. She knew it was irrational. That Brooklyn wasn’t any safer than Manhattan. But Brooklyn felt safer; it was free of Scott and Jake.
“You’re safe, Zoey. Just breathe.”
She released the breath she was holding, not knowing she’d been holding it. She brushed it off with a laugh. “Sorry about that. I’m good.”
Archer watched her closely and then gave her a firm nod before focusing back on the road.
She hated what this city did to her. The fear it created. She settled back into her seat.
When he finally parked at the curb and led her through the front door, her curiosity grew tenfold. The cigar club was lavish. Rhys’ wealth showed here. Fabrics were luxurious, antique furniture even more so, no expense was spared with the design. And she was pretty sure the intricate gold fleurs on the bar were real. The place was busy, most tables full of customers drinking dark liquored alcohol, thick cigar smoke lingering in the air, an oddly pleasing aroma of cedar mixed with a pungent scent of tobacco. Amazing, considering the laws in the city banned smoking indoors. Which, of course, only told her that, when it came to Rhys Harrington, rules didn’t necessarily apply.
She kept silent and followed Archer down a long hallway and through another door. Then her steps faltered at the view unfolding before her. Behind a one-way mirror, in what appeared to be a private room with whiskey barrels lining the stone walls, Scott and Jake sat on brown leather couches beside each other. They sipped bourbon, smoked cigars, and chit-chatted with Rhys sitting across from them. She recognized him immediately and chided herself for not noticing it the night they were together. She’d seen pictures of him on the Internet when Elise had researched Phoenix. Even if he was the most gorgeous man she’d ever seen in her life, with a body of sculpted muscles, a chiseled jawline, and a mesmerizing presence that demanded she continue to stare at him, her stomach dropped. “What the hell is this?” she snapped, whirling on Archer.
“You’re safe,” Archer said, holding up his hands nonthreateningly. “You’ve got a choice here. I can take you home right now. Or you can watch Rhys deal with them. He thought you’d appreciate the latter.” Archer’s expression showed only kindness and strength as he added, “Let Rhys right this wrong in the way he can. These bastards deserve far worse.”
He’s going to right a wrong? Her head spun as she moved closer to the one-way mirror. She stared at the two men who’d ruined her life. Destroyed her in ways she never thought anyone could destroy her. Beside her, she saw Archer fire off a text, and she noticed Rhys glancing at his phone.
His gaze lifted to the one-way mirror, and she felt the power of that stare like a punch to her stomach, knocking the wind right out of her. She was sure he couldn’t see her, but it seemed like he was looking right at her, reminding her how last night had felt. To hold this man’s attention was something powerful. Something addictive. Something profound. Rhys gave a slight nod, approval shining in his eyes. Then his gaze hardened when he looked at Scott and Jake. “I have no doubt you’re wondering why I’ve asked you here,” he said, picking up a file. “Explain this to me.” He slid a photo across the coffee table between them.
One look at the paper, and Scott went ghostly white. Jake snorted and leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms. Zoey didn’t know what had truly happened that awful night, but their reactions now made her believe that Jake was the leader, and Scott had followed. She couldn’t help but wonder what would have happened if Scott, obviously a guy with a smidgen of a conscience, hadn’t been there.