I’m annoyed and ashamed about how everything went. I’ve never initiated a kiss before, and the moment I do, it isn’t even reciprocated.
“Tell me, beautiful. If the roles were reversed and I kissed you out of nowhere, what would you do?”
“I’ll slap you.”
“Hmmm.” His wolfish smirk reappears. “So it’s not just a kiss.”
I purse my lips. “Fine. What do you want? Slap me? Go ahead. I don’t care.”
He raises his hand.
My eyes widen. He’ll actually slap me?
I clamp my lids and my lips shut. Better pay for my mistake and get it over with.
Silence grows between us like that one in horror films right before a character is killed. I wait for the blow and wait and wait.
Nothing happens.
I slowly peel my eyes open. Shadow is standing straight with both his hands in his pockets. Due to the position, his arms are in straight lines. The hint of light outlines his bulging biceps and the colourful tattoos spilling from his T-shirt’s sleeve.
He’s watching me intently with a raised brow like a predator sampling his prey. There’s something about the easy danger he emanates that drops my stomach and causes sweat to break out on my forehead.
This man is bad news. Super bad. He really is the monster Mum warned me away from.
“Don’t touch me without permission again,” he says in an authoritative tone.
He reaches for the doorknob, and I stumble away.
Shadow pushes past me with one last undecipherable glance.
I stare at his back and, not going to lie, that arse. He leisurely walks down the hall, uncaring and nonchalant. It’s like he owns half of the world and couldn’t give two fucks about the other half.
Only maybe he does.
Perhaps Shadow wasn’t playing a sick game. After all, he tried to control his reaction. Maybe he genuinely hates being touched.
Maybe, just maybe, his demons are as haunting as mine.
A week passes, and my integration in Le Salon isn’t as hard as I thought it’d be.
Or perhaps I’m underestimating how easily darkness can suck someone in.
I made it my mission to befriend the girls. Not only for information, but also because I always thirst for company. I’m better not left with my chaotic head or I’ll backpedal to muted, horrifying memories.
The downside is that I miss Elle so freaking much. We’ve never been separated for this long. I try to talk to her and Liam every night, but it’s hardly enough.
Hopefully, I'll get used to this feeling of loneliness because I can’t meet them while I’m at Le Salon. I’d rather die in a corner than put either of them in danger.
I spent hours and days being the new rising star of the club. It’s so freaking hard to be likeable when most girls think I’m after their positions or escorts’ ranks. They wouldn’t believe me no matter how much I swear I have no such ‘ambitions’.
They only began to take my word seriously when they saw me hanging out with Natalie. Apparently, she’s one of the lowest here because of her demotion. Even other waitresses look down on her, calling her ‘a useless whore’ behind her back.
Those girls can be real bitches.
To spite them, I spend most of my time with Nat. She’s the warmest person here.
My roommate, Scarlett, is… whelp, eccentric is the understatement of the century.
While applying green nail polish to my toes, I peek at her. She’s swaying to an old Oasis song. Her eyes are closed and waves of platinum blonde hair fall in a chaotic mess around her face.
She’s in a fluffy pink top on which is written, ‘An apple a day can keep anyone away if you throw it hard enough.’
No kidding. She has a stack of all these tops and T-shirts with the weirdest sayings on them. Her jeans shorts reveal pale thighs and a sublime hourglass feminine figure. Her features are petite and soft like a French doll.
No wonder she’s the number one escort here, but I can’t get a read off her. She flips too fast, and it’s impossible to keep up.
She was the blondie who came with Mist and the others the night I first met Shadow in that underground fight ring. Then she... disappeared.
Something doesn’t add up with her and yet, I couldn’t find anything so far.
The song comes to an end.
As if feeling me watching her, Scarlett snaps her huge amber eyes open and stares at me. Poker face. Her body is as unmoving as a board.
Then she smiles, and it seems artificial. It does reach her