“Yes, of course, beautiful. Anything you want. Just don’t let go of me.” Leandro guides me through the lamppost exhibit and toward the street. The lights mimic strobes, blurring in a light show as if I’m traveling fast.
A horn honks, startling me. Leandro pulls me closer to him until I hug his side. He manages to hold my weight, but I know he’s feeling the effects of the supposed drugs that were slipped into our drinks. I should’ve known better. I usually only trust Kitty, but I was distracted with Leandro. This high feels different than any time I’ve taken something else. More intense. I feel as if I might have a heart attack at any second, my heart smashing around my chest in chaotic beats.
Leandro steadies me in place. “The car is just around the corner. Try your best to remain composed. Say hi and then let me do the talking.”
Because if a driver sees that I’m far too fucked up to even comprehend what’s happening, I’ll be in a lot of trouble.
I open and close my mouth. “Okay—”
“What the fuck are you doing with my girl?” The familiar baritone of Christos snaps in my ears. “Get your fucking hands off her.”
The world spins as Leandro twists me around, shielding me protectively. It doesn’t stop Christos from charging and grabbing Leandro by the back of his suit jacket. My knees weaken, buckling on me. I don’t even have a chance to reach out for anything as I fall to the ground.
“Christos!” I’m not sure if my voice even sounds out or not, but I know I’m screaming at him in my head. “Christos, stop!”
I watch through my blurry vision as Christos swings his fist, missing Leandro’s face by inches. A figure stands over me, and I tilt my head up, meeting the hazel gaze of an unfamiliar man.
He reaches down and grabs my hands, hauling me to my feet. “You okay, Princess?” he asks, his voice a low murmur with a hint of an accent dancing on his words.
Shit. He’s from the Looking Glass.
I try to pull away from him, but he only tightens his grip on me. “Let me go. Get your hands off me, asshole.”
He obeys my command and releases me. I stumble and fall back to the ground. A small cry escapes my mouth, and I scramble back until I hit one of the lampposts. I grab it, trying to pull myself to my feet. My vision dims despite the light shining in my eyes. Fuck, I feel sick. I feel out of control. But mostly, I’m terrified.
And then I see them.
Leandro straddles Christos, punching him in the face again and again. The other guy rushes over and grabs Leandro, dragging him off. Someone hollers from a distance, and Leandro gets up and jogs to me. He lifts me in his arms, cradling me like the small child I suddenly feel like.
“Put down my girl. You’re making a huge fucking mistake. You don’t know who you’re dealing with,” Christos snaps, his voice deep and guttural.
“Fuck off. She doesn’t want to be with you. I promised her I’d get her back to her hotel, and I don’t break promises. So back off or I’ll beat you unconscious.” Leandro shifts his jacket, showing off what I think might be the hilt of a gun. Holy shit. The fight might’ve sobered him up more than me. I can barely process what’s happening.
I’m too out of it to care.
Christos and the other guy don’t come after us.
Leandro carries me toward the street and waves down our ride. I thunk against the backseat of the car and listen to him confirm the address of the hotel. I lose myself to the blurring lights.
4
What the Fuck
Painpulsesbehindmyeyes, and I groan. I rub the heels of my hands into my eyes, scrubbing at my fake eyelashes. Damn. I feel like utter and complete shit. I squeeze my eyes shut, pinching my false lashes between my fingers, and peel them off.
It takes me a moment to realize that I have no clue where I am or how I got here. The last thing I remember was staring at the city lights with Leandro. I was so shaken after the confrontation with Christos, I asked him to have the driver take a detour in case he was following us. After that? I have no idea. It’s fuzzy.
I sit up in the dark room, my stomach twisting with the movement. The comforter falls away, showing off my naked body. Shit. Well, at least this went how it was expected. Too bad I can’t remember much, considering how good a lay he was at the club.
“Leandro?” I whisper, my throat tight and parched.
No one responds, but I spot him sprawled next to me, hidden under the fluffy comforter. I recognize the pattern. It looks like we did make it to the Silver Screen Hotel, after all. Now that my vision adjusts to the darkness, I spot my belongings scattered across the vanity table.
I groan and stretch my arms over my head, my body feeling as if I was hit by a bus. I shimmy lower under the sheets and scoot toward Leandro, spooning him.
That’s strange. He’s fully dressed.
I sit up and shake his shoulder. “Hey, wake up. Leandro?” Something about his lack of reaction digs into my soul. I pinch his chin, trying to turn his head, but he doesn’t budge.