Richer Than God - Amelia Wilde Page 0,51

shape.

It doesn’t matter if I’m falling for him or not.

It doesn’t matter if it’s ridiculous or not.

None of it matters, because tomorrow night, Zeus will accept bids for me for the night—and, I don’t know, the next several nights. There are so many men on that list. They’ll pay me. And I’ll leave. And I’ll never see him again.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” Savannah snaps. “Are we fighting or not?”

I blink back a sheen of tears. “I don’t know, Savannah, are you still being a huge bitch or not?”

The door flies open so fast that Savannah doesn’t have time to get out of the way. It hits her arm, knocking her to the side, and I reach for her like the fool that I am.

Only I don’t make it.

Because the man coming through the door hooks a hand around my arm and pulls.

My feet go out from under me, dragging on the floor, and—no. No. Heels. I need heels on the floor, and I get them under me, pulling back. “Stop.” His grip is so tight there must already be bruises. “Let go.”

Another man comes in behind him, dressed in black and a bulletproof vest—what?—and crowds me on the other side. Savannah has helpfully pressed herself against the wall, out of the way. I want to scream at her—she really is a horrible bitch—but then the ghostly pale of her face registers. The babbling. She’s begging. Please don’t hurt me. Please, don’t take me with you. Let me live; let me live.

The man closest to her slaps her across the face. “We’re only here for one whore,” he says.

Me. It’s me. “No—”

All the fight in the world doesn’t matter, because the two of them overpower me like they’ve been trained to do this. They probably have been. It doesn’t stop me from trying. A muscle in my shoulder pulls—do not take me outside—but then we’re over the threshold and out into the back alley.

It’s evening, the city cast in the orange fire of the sunset.

I should have gotten on that train.

The second thing I hear is my father… laughing.

“There she is.” He stands at the end of the alley near a car I don’t recognize. “My daughter, the slut. Really, Brigit, I thought you were smarter than this.” His skin is turned a sickly color by the light, and my entire body recoils. He slides his hands into his pockets the way he used to do when we were finished having an argument. “You’re grounded.” That’s what he’d say. “Well, time to go. You’re late for your wedding.”

22

Zeus

Savannah is in tears when she bursts into my office without knocking.

Irritation flares. I have no time for her hysterics. “You know better than that,” I scold, standing up. If I have to drag her out of here, I will.

“Men,” she breathes. “Came. And took Brigit. To the back.”

For a split second, I allow myself to imagine exactly what I’m going to do to this woman as punishment for letting this happen. Worse than a whip. Because surely, she had something to do with it. But then—perhaps not. Her face is so pale, and her tears so genuine, that it looks like shock. Real shock.

Which means Brigit is really in danger.

Then I’m nothing but movement. I catch only a glimpse of the heartbreak on Savannah’s face as I brush by her. In the hall, I almost collide with Reya, who takes one look at my face and gets out of the way. Her footsteps fade behind me. She can deal with Savannah.

There’s only one way out of the back—one way that’s public, anyway. The open end of the alley. The front entrance is, paradoxically, closest to it. The summer heat is a shimmering wall when I throw the door open and run.

She’s screaming.

Not the high, terrified scream of someone who’s being dragged to their death, but the raging scream of someone who’s being dragged to a fate worse than death. It echoes in my ears along with the ghosts of other screams. I got better at it, toward the end. There wasn’t so much noise. Now, the loudest sound is my own heart, beating in my ears.

I round the corner, and the car comes into view. A man stands in front of it, his hands in his pockets, like he’s watching a sporting event. The event is Brigit, who is being wrestled by two men toward the car.

She’s not going easy.

I’m proud of her.

And then I’m too busy assessing the situation