My hand subtly trembled as I held on to my glass, heart pounding in my chest. I could feel fear slowly creeping into my mind, quickening my pulse and inflicting me with anxiety.
Why was I so uncomfortable? Why couldn’t I shake the feeling that something was off?
I lifted the glass to my lips and emptied the contents down my throat. The music was still throbbing loudly, its rhythmic beat hypnotizing the crowd. Tens of people surrounded me, and although each of them was busy with one thing or another, I felt safe to some degree.
Why, then, was I so tense? What was my mind warning me about?
I combed my manicured fingers through my hair, letting out soft exhales in an attempt to calm my nerves. Where the hell was Ayla now that I needed her? I turned toward the dance floor, eyes scanning the wild space until I spotted her.
She looked so happy, unbothered by anything, just dancing away her burdens. One look at her and you’d think she had no problems of her own, none whatsoever. But that assumption was far from the truth because she was only human, plagued by her troubles and drama. However, the difference between the two of us was how we handled our problems.
Honestly, sometimes I wish I were as nonchalant and carefree as she was—headstrong with a little hint of defiance. Maybe if I had these traits, my life would be a lot smoother, and I wouldn’t be so weighed down by my problems all the time.
A small smile played on my lips as I watched her have fun, her hands in the air, hips swaying here and there. I needed her company right now, especially with this growing fear inside me. But wouldn’t it be selfish of me to just cut off her good time simply because I had a bad feeling about something?
We came out here to have some fun. It wasn’t anyone’s fault that I was unable to blend in with the crowd. There was absolutely no need to bother her with my own issues, and I couldn’t in good conscience steal her joy.
The more time passed, the more the feeling of being watched intensified. Sure, as a Romano, I often pulled a lot of attention and stared, but it was different this time—heavier. This feeling started the moment I locked eyes with that devil, and deep down in my heart, I was certain he was responsible for my sudden unease.
It was almost as if I could still feel his gaze lingering on me, yet I was afraid to look back in his direction. He was watching me. Nik Tarasov was watching me, and that alone gave me the creeps. I let out a sigh, my fingers absently drumming on the countertop, as I quietly nodded to the rhythm of the beat.
For years, I’d heard whispers of his name and the effect it often had on people. I’d heard tales, stories of his cruelty and how the man was a master strategist who, when crossed, always left his victims shattered and broken. Rumor had it that his patience was unparalleled, and the more silent he was about a serious wrong done to him, the more severe his plan for revenge was.
I felt my heart stop for a moment, my pulse quickening and accentuating my fear. If Nik was half the man these stories made him out to be, then he was the last person Father wanted to make an enemy of. The man was dangerous, with a unique ability to sit back and wait for the right opportunity to strike. Given the feud between him and my dad, it was only logical to believe he was planning something against my family. Whatever it was, I had a feeling it would be disastrous.
Even now, his gaze still lingered, stirring up all manner of anxiety within me. I tried to act okay, tried to blend in and just enjoy the music. But the more I tried, the more anxious, the more worried, I became. This man shouldn’t have this type of hold over me, especially when we hadn’t even had a conversation with one another. I should bury these pesky emotions and see him as irrelevant, no one of consequence. Yet, he still remained glued to my mind.
I heaved a sigh and summoned the courage to steal a quick glance in his direction. I’d be damned if I didn’t see him watching me like a hawk from his seat, legs crossed. Immediately, I looked away, feeling a sudden chill run down my spine.
Dang it! Did he see me? Has he been watching me this entire time? I thought to myself, my heart racing in my chest. The intensity of his stare only meant that he was up to no good. This man was planning something against me—I could feel it. I gotta get outta here.
I dipped my hand in my pocket and withdrew my phone, fingers rattling across the lit screen as I typed a simple text. “Hey, I’m so sorry I have to leave like this. Something’s come up. See you later?” I hit the send icon, and the message was delivered to Ayla.
My eyes discreetly roamed the space, my brain calculating how long it would take me to get to the front door. I dared to look in his direction, but to my surprise, the couch he lounged on was empty. He was gone.
Where’d he go?
My brows narrowed ever so slightly. But this wasn’t the time to wonder; it was an opportunity for me to get the hell out of here.
I grabbed my purse and got off the stool, my movements steady—more haste, less speed. He might not be at the VIP area for now, but I sensed he was somewhere around, lurking in the dark corners and watching me from the shadows. However, I couldn’t grant him the satisfaction of thinking I was running away from him. With that in mind, I sashayed through the crowd as elegantly as I could, my movement fluid and majestic.
A few seconds later, I reached the exit and pushed the door open, the cool night’s air brushing against my skin. I didn’t realize that I’d been holding my breath this entire time until a sharp gasp escaped my lips. My hand flew to my chest, as if to prevent my heart from jumping out, as I glanced back at the shut door. I could still hear the sound of the muffled music coming from inside the club. However, my biggest relief was that I made it out of there.
“I’m sorry, Ayla,” I muttered under my breath and turned around to leave.
For some reason, it was awfully quiet out here, with the street lamps casting long, eerie shadows over the sidewalks. To make matters worse, it was almost like there was not a single soul outside the club.
Where the hell is everyone? What’s going on here? I wondered.
For sure, the people in the club were still inside, having a good time. But what about those outside—the street vendors and the passersby? Where were they? Why did it look like the Mary Celeste out here when it wasn’t even midnight yet?
I shook my head, my heels clicking rapidly against the pavement as I headed toward the waiting car by the curb. It was best just to get as far away from this place as possible because right now, I felt like every cell in my body was warning me against an imminent danger.
The night itself was still, the moon lurking behind a dark cloud overhead, and the celestial canvas was dotted with a few twinkling stars. I quickened my pace toward the car, but halfway into the walk, I heard a noise from the shadows—the sound of a twig snapping beneath someone’s foot.
I shouldn’t have, but I stopped in my tracks, glancing over my shoulder. The nearby bush rustled, startling me, and before I could make a run for the car, I felt a large palm cover my face from behind. The touch was cold, the grip firm—so firm, in fact, that it muffled my screams. My eyes widened in terror, and my arms flailed helplessly as a strong scent, harsh and dark, invaded my nostrils. The handkerchief in my attacker’s hold was laced with some substance—a drug, perhaps.
Slowly, my strength began to dwindle, my bones weakened, and my legs turned to jelly. My eyelids drooped, heavy with blurry vision as the world swirled around me. The hooting of an owl in the distance echoed in my head, and my hands dropped weightlessly.
It was clear to me now that I’d been drugged. And just as I drew a deep, long breath—one I could only assume to be my last—a veil of darkness clouded my eyes. My body fell backward, collapsing onto my attacker’s broad chest.
Moments later, my eyes closed for good, and I drifted off—out like a light.
