Stolen Life (Beauty in the Stolen 2)

I assure my dance partners I can’t stand on my feet for another minute and drag myself back to my chair. A pretty young woman dressed in stonewashed jeans and an off-shoulder blouse sits on a drum next to my chair, nursing a beer. Unlike many of the other young women, she doesn’t have hair extensions. The short hair suits her. She has a shapely head and an oval face with long, dark lashes.

She offers me a dimpled smile when I sit down. At the same time, she checks me out from head to toe. “I’m Danai.”

“Cas,” I say, returning her smile.

She taps long, red fingernails on the tabletop. “I know who you are. Everyone does.”

“I suppose.” News must travel fast in the small village.

“Ruben told me all about you.”

If she’s waiting for me to ask what he said, she’ll wait a long time. I’m not taking the bait. I turn sideways and watch the dancing.

After a few beats, she says, “He told me Ian is keeping you here against your will.”

What’s going on between Ian and me is nobody’s business. I utter a wry laugh and don’t look away from the dancers as I say, “Ruben talks too much.”

“He told me the whole story about the cops wanting you to spy for them. If you had a chance, would you do it?”

Of course, Ian told his gang what Wolfe wanted from me. I already knew that from Ruben’s hostile comments. However, that Ruben told her makes me angry for no explicable reason.

I face her again. “Why would I do something that will earn me a bullet in the head?”

“To escape. Putting Ian behind bars will mean freedom for you.”

I take a sip of my beer. “I’m not going to split on Ian.”

“Why not?” She regards me with a bellicose smile. “It’s not as if you want to be here.”

That’s not entirely true. To be honest, I love it here. I just don’t want to be a prisoner. I want to be free to come and go as I please and to make decisions. Instead of some floozy, I want to be the one on Ian’s arm when he goes out wearing a suit.

There. I’ve admitted it to myself. I’m jealous. Ian owns my heart, and I can never have it back. I want to make things work, but I’m not going to accept being locked up in his proverbial tower as a piece on the side while he gets to live in the real world and go out to get laid. I’m worth more than that. He may have stolen my affection like the thief he is, but I gave my heart freely. That doesn’t mean I have to be a doormat.

“You’re not denying it,” she says. “So, it’s true.”

I take another long drink. “It’s more complicated than that.”

“You’re such a dumb bitch.”

I think I may punch her, but maybe I didn’t hear right. Maybe I’m drunk. “Excuse me?”

“You don’t even realize how lucky you are. Most women will change positions with you in a blink.”

Resisting the urge to throw my beer in her face, I say, “Like you, for example.”

She doesn’t deny the allegation. She confirms it by saying, “I’ve been in love with Ian since I was twelve.”

She must be in her early twenties. That’s a long time to nurture love. If she hadn’t been so rude, I would’ve felt compassion for her.

“I was sixteen the first time I hit on him,” she says. “He always told me I was too young.” Her laugh is bitter. “I’m not too young now. It would’ve happened. I know it.” She motions at her body. “Men like what they see. But then you came along.”

To spoil her chances. Or maybe not. “Listen, I’m not sure what I am to Ian, but I’m definitely not his one-and-only. So, be my guest. Go for it.”

“Oh, I will.” She smirks. “I don’t give up easily.”

“Good for you,” I say with a chuckle as I down what’s left of my beer.

She climbs to her feet. “Don’t say I didn’t play fair and give you ample warning.”

Like I care. But I do. I hate that I do. Even more determined now to forget, I go to the bar and order another beer.

“Put my drinks on Ian’s tab,” I tell the barman with some glee.

“For you?” He gives me a wide smile. “On the house.”

“You should charge Ian double,” I say as I take my drink and make my way back to the table.

After my fourth glass, my head is spinning. Belatedly, I remember I forgot to take my pills. Someone kindly brings me a glass of water, and someone else puts a plate of grilled vegetables and corn on the cob in front of me. I eat to line my stomach and chuck back the pills with the water before joining the girls on the dancefloor again. We’re stamping out the rhythm of the music, cheered on by the boys. It would’ve been a lot of fun if I didn’t feel like crying.