“The kidnappers called him,” she says. “They asked for ransom, but he never showed. I think he called the police himself.”
“No,” Rebecca gasps. “That’s impossible. I mean, maybe he did call the police, but I’m sure he would have come himself. He cares so much about the baby.”
Rebecca’s words hit her harder than everything else combined. She’s right, Leilani thinks. If he cared, he would have come himself. He rescued me from danger so many times—he even risked his life to do it. But now he couldn’t even be bothered to pay the ransom.
She closes her eyes and pretends to faint. The officer catches her before she hits the ground and carries her to one of the police cruisers. She curls into a ball in the back seat and sobs. By the time they arrive at the police station, her eyes are red and swollen, and her throat aches.
“Oh honey,” Andrew says, opening the door to the cruiser. “Oh, Leilani, are you okay?”
He pulls her out and holds her close, and she feels too weak to fight him. She lets him lead her into the station, and put a cup of hot tea into her hands. She sips it and tries to answer the police commissioner’s questions.
“And how did you find out about the incident?” the commissioner asks Andrew.
“Well, the bank called when two hundred million dollars mysteriously disappeared from my account,” Andrew says. “And of course I was worried sick—my fiancé has been missing for over a day. I put two and two together and figured she’d been taken somehow. It’s funny—I don’t remember ever telling her the password to my account, but I must have mentioned it at some point.”
Leilani takes another sip of tea to hide her face. It’s true that Andrew never told her the password—she guessed it and got lucky. The commissioner scribbles notes onto a piece of paper and waves his hands to dismiss them.
“Oh my god, honey,” Andrew says, pulling her to his side. “From now on, I’m not letting you out of my sight. It’s too dangerous out there for you—you seem to attract it like some kind of cursed magnet.”
“I don’t,” she says. “And I want you to know, and I’ll find a way to pay you back.”
“Do we have to talk about money?” Andrew asks. “In a few weeks, we’ll say I do, and all my money will be yours.”
“Never mind that now,” she says. “I’m exhausted and in so much pain. I don’t think I can face your family. Can we please go back to the villa?”
“Of course,” Andrew says. “There’s a photographer there now, but I’ll take you back as soon as I can.”
Gabrielle bites her lip and looks at Hill, wondering why he summoned her.
“Your performance the other night left quite an impression on our guests,” Hill says. “There’s a gentleman in a private room asking for you. Mr. Oliver would like you to go entertain him.”
“Really?” she asks. “I thought he forbade me from serving other guests.”
Hill is about to answer when an unfamiliar man comes up behind him and whispers something in his ear. Hill’s cheek twitches, but he doesn’t respond. He takes Gabrielle by the wrist and leads her toward a set of large oak doors.
The doors are ajar, and she can see a man in a dark suit sitting on a black silk sofa. Other men are standing around the room, but she can’t tell if they’re guests or bodyguards. The lights are dim and golden, and a girl giggles in the middle of the room.
“Rock, paper, scissors,” the man on the sofa shouts. “Ha—you lost!”
Gabrielle leans forward, trying to get a better look. Did these men get a private room just to play a child’s game? She wonders.
“You know the rules, s.l.u.t,” the man on the sofa says.
The girl’s lower lip trembled as the man raised his hand. He slaps her across the face with the back of his hand, and the sound echoes through the dim room. The girl whimpers and rubs her cheek—the skin is already pink and swollen.
“Come on, let’s play again,” the man says. “If you win, you can have all that money.”
Gabrielle leans forward and sees a sloppy pile of hundred dollar bills on the table. She scans the money and guesses that it’s several thousand dollars. She bites her lip as the girl leans forward and clenches her manicured hand into a fist.
“Rock, paper, scissors,” he shouts.
The girl lays her hand flat—paper. The man and his friends laugh, and the loud drunken sound makes Gabrielle’s stomach tighten. She steps back from the door and holds her breath as the man raises his hand. The second slap is just as loud as the first, and the men in the room cheer.
“Third and final round,” the man says. “You really can’t afford to lose this one.”
The girl’s shoulder shakes, and she raises her small fist again. She bites her lip and stares at the man on the sofa with tear-filled eyes. Gabrielle crosses her fingers behind her back and hopes the girl gets lucky.
“Rock, paper, scissors,” the man shouts.
The girl plays scissors, and her face lights up. The room falls silent, and the men turn to see what the man will do.
“You lose, David,” she says.
“I never lose,” David says.
Before the girl can grab the first bill, David’s fist flies through the air and slams into her jaw. She flies off the coffee table and lands in a crumpled heap on the floor. Her hair falls across her face, and she pushes it back. Dark red blood drips from her mouth and dribbles down her chin onto her tanned neck. The men cheer even louder, and David chuckles.
“Nice one, David!” a drunken man shouts.
“You’ve got some arm,” says another.
Gabrielle grits her teeth and looks at the man they call David. He’s wearing a black shirt, black jeans and designer shoes worth at least fifty thousand dollars. His dark hair is cut close to his scalp, and four diamonds glitter on his ears. He turns to look at the door and Gabrielle shivers. His face is surprisingly young—he can’t be more than twenty-five years old—but his eyes gleam with sadistic pleasure, and his thin lips curl into a monstrous grin.
Gabrielle has heard of men like him. They act tough, but only because they’re rich. They hide behind their money and pick on people smaller and weaker than them. The other girls in the club say they get off on pain—they can’t enjoy s.e.x unless the woman they’re with is miserable.
Gabrielle looks at the sobbing girl on the floor and shivers again. Is this seriously the man Jackson wants me to entertain? She thinks. That’s so sick—I thought he was keeping me for himself, but I guess he just wants to degrade me. Well, I’m not going to give up without a fight. If this man likes violence, I’m going to give it to him.
“Don’t be such a loser,” the men shout. “Get your sorry ass off the floor and play again.”
“No, I’m done with her,” David says. “Bring the new girl in.”
Hill shoves Gabrielle with one hand and pushes the door open with the other. For a moment, she stands frozen in the doorway. She can feel the men’s wolfish eyes on her, but she refuses to look at them. Instead, she stares at the girl, still shaking and sobbing on the floor.
“You get over here,” David says.
He raises his hands and snaps his fingers at her like a dog. She grits her teeth and steps forward. She throws her shoulders back and looks around the room with casual indifference as if she can see through each and every man in there. She stops next to the sofa, but she refuses to sit down.
“Sit down, please, make yourself comfortable,” David says.
The men chuckle and nudge each other. Gabrielle stays standing just out of David’s reach. He snaps his fingers again, and she bites her tongue.
New Book: Back Home to Marry Off Myself
Loredana’s father left the family for his mistress, leaving them to fend for themselves abroad. When life was at its toughest, her father showed up with “good news” after 8 years of absence: To marry off Loredana to a paralyzed son of the wealthy Mendelsohn family.
Leave a Reply