Chapter 11

I switch each hanger, taking turns to hold each dress to my chest, clothed in a robe with a white towel still wrapped around my head. I analyze the reflection in my standing mirror, critiquing each dress—all of which are outdated and I have worn too often. I really need to go shopping.

A hard knock on the door. "Are you decent in there?"

I smile to myself. "Come on in, pops."

My dad peeks inside before he enters. "I come bearing gifts." He enters with a black garment bag.

"That's sweet, but I need to choose a dress for this gala. And I still haven't decided."

He takes a brief moment to evaluate each dress. He points to the rose-gold one. "Didn't you wear that at my dinner party? And the other at the press conference a week ago? There are pictures of that. You can't be caught wearing the same digs twice. Do remind me to take you shopping myself."

"Ha, ha," I say dryly. "You're not helping."

"No." He lifts the garment bag in emphasis. "But this can." He unzips it until it flaps open to showcase what's inside. "Apparently, you told Vance that you will be getting there on your own. So I suppose he sent this as a peace offering? Is he in the doghouse or something?"

I give him a wry look. "We just don't need to be with each other twenty-four-seven."

He nods understandingly, then moves to hook the hanger on the handle of my wardrobe.

"Well, if it pleases you. Frank can obviously take you and I can accompany you there?"

My brows climb my forehead. "You want to attend the corporate gala? You do know that Colton is likely to be there. You can smile all you want at him. I know you don't like him. Or perhaps it's not about him, but about gaining a foothold by acquainting yourself with top-level executives in his company."

"You can read me like a book." He clasps his hands together. "I have some vital networking to do."

I eye him down, smiling carefully. "Well, I know you. Your motives have motives."

He squints slightly. "It's the only way to truly get ahead. So, what do you say?"

I shrug. "Sure, I don't see why not."

***

I step out onto a black carpet. Flashes from the paparazzi's cameras immediately dazzle my view. My father and I walk into the sparkling atrium of the skyscraper, ushered to the crowded ground floor, chandeliers shining on the bejeweled guests. And apparently this is black and white event because all the men are suited in tuxedos and the scant number of women wear a variation of white and black gowns. Not me. My father tangles his arm around mine and guides us through—a striking contrast to the ink-spilled landscape. My blood-red corset dress with a satin shawl laced around my shoulders, the dress has a front lace up and a classic high slit, drawing more attention than my well-concealed social anxiety can bear.

"Mayor Du Pont."

A man in a tuxedo approaches with an entourage of faceless men.

He extends a hand. "An honor. I'm Jeremy Harold, the treasurer." He gestures grandly to the men behind him. "And these are the stockholders."

My dad's eyes light up and he gives him a firm handshake. "The honor is all mine." He greets the others with a respectful nod. "Gentlemen."

They grumble a greeting. And I have officially lost my dad to the banal of business and politics. I wander off, shirking off the stares from men triple my age and the glares from their wives. The built-in corset of this dress cinches up my waist tightly and definitely exaggerates non-existent curves. The only man in an all-white suit catches my attention. Colton Vacheron. He's speaking to a group of solemn-looking men, charming and confident. And frighteningly like my dad.

"Avara." The whisper of my name tickles the back of my hair, making them erect.

I whip around to see Landen, smiling smugly at me. He has his hands deep in the pockets of his pants, his hair styled back, maddeningly attractive like his brother. He's the type that he's aware of how hot he is and doesn't mind flaunting it.

"Landen," I say as monotone as I can, hoping he'll get bored with me and leave me alone.

His eyes rake me over, stripping me bare with his full body scan. I look away, feeling devastatingly insecure, vulnerable, and naked. His eyes slip down my cleavage. I cross my arms, tugging the crimson shawl, trying to cover as much as I can casually.

"What a dress," he says with a low and smoky voice. "My brother has excellent taste."

I frown, looking back at him. "How did you know?"

"Red is his favorite color." He makes a look of mock surprise. "You don't think you're the only girl he has played dress up with? The only difference between my brother and I is that he hides his sex scandals. I don't."

Anger swells in my chest. I quell it with a deep inhale.

"Oh, there he is now."

I turn and Vance locks eyes with me. He excuses himself and walks briskly to us.

"Avara… I didn't think you'd show."

"Why wouldn't she?" Landen asks with a curious slant of his head.

"Landen, can I have a moment alone with my girlfriend?"

He chuckles. "You almost choked on the word." He claps a hand on his shoulder, then glances at me. "Avara, so nice to see you again."

I manage a stiff smile. He breezes away, gripping my gaze until he disappears.

"You've been avoiding me."

I wonder why. "I've been busy. And why didn't you tell me this is a black-tie event? I kind of stick out."

He steals a glance at my body. "That was the point. You're not just any woman. You're mine and you're going to be my future wife."

"Lucky me," I say bitterly.

He tilts closer, speaking in hushed tones. He says, "I know there has been some tension between us of late, but we can't do this if we're in a cold war. We can call a truce once you apologize."

I fall silent for a moment, then a few more. Incomprehensibly dumbstruck.

He wants me to apologize! This inconsiderate, senseless, callous jerk!

"You want me to apologize?" I say too softly. "Me?"

"That's normally what the guilty do." His eyes dart past me, then they fix on something ahead. "I'm actually going to kill him."

I follow his line of sight to his brother. He's speaking with Allison, who was an entire camera crew at her rear. Landen makes dramatic hand motions and signals to the ceiling, then his hand does a general sweep. Allison's eyes train on us like a bloodhound. She nods and beckons the professional photographers with a flick of her manicured fingers.

***

I check my phone again. This is the place.

"Avara?"

I meet Frank's gaze in the rear-view mirror.

"What emergency would require you to be here at this time of night?"

"An urgent one," I say, lying fluently. "Which is why I suppose it's an emergency. You can go home and I'll call you if I need you or something goes awry. I promise."

I climb out, my heels making contact with the tarmac. I rise and strut over to the dingy and decrepit pawn shop with its lights flickering. As I make my way to the entrance, I call the unknown number.

"Is this some kind of joke? A pawn shop?"

A deep, reverberating chuckle tumbles down the line, sending a tingling thrill through me.

 "Go to the cashier and tell him that the black rose is in the mouth of the wolf."

My mouth falls open. "What?"

The call ends. Since I'm already here, there's no backing out now.

The door chimes above me, and I go to the cashier. A balding, scrawny man with a hideous scowl on his face like I owe him money and I'm here to hand him another excuse.

"Evening, um…" I look away, warding off nerves and embarrassment. "The black rose is in the mouth of the wolf."

His expression changes. Still a nasty look, but less so. He swivels off his chair and shuffles out of the area, walking to the front door. I stare after him as he turns the signage over to show that he's closed for the night. He makes a start to the back of the shop, then flags me over. I hurry to be just behind him as we make our way to the rear. Soon he reaches a blank wall. With a deft motion, he retracts a panel, which subsequently glides away with automated precision, revealing a profound void, devoid of visible features except for a distant point of illumination.

The man nods pointedly.

I fumble for my phone, calling the number again.

"Bella?"

I nearly trip at the name. I brush it aside. 

"What is this place? And where does this dark pit of doom lead?"

"To me. Come, if it will make you feel better. Stay on this line and let my voice lead you. Now walk inside. Trust me."

"I don't know you."

"This is your chance to. Often in life when you're too scared to make the leap. That's exactly when you jump. The choice is yours."

After a moment, I rally my courage, taking in a readying breath.

I take my first foot forward, then another before I'm plunged into darkness. And the panel behind me seals shut with a click.