HARPER
BLACK ORCHID CASINO
"So, when are you going to tell me the juicy details about the sexy silver fox?" Clara teased, nudging my shoulder as she downed her third whiskey of the night. She winced, shutting her eyes tightly, then snapped them open again, locking on mine.
"What silver fox?" My nose wrinkled as I stared at her in confusion.
Clara narrowed her eyes, lips curving slyly as she bent forward. "Dominic Fletcher, of course. The DILF you've been fantasizing about."
Heat rushed to my cheeks and I shot her a glare. But she only laughed, the sound swallowed quickly by the thrum of music, playing in the background.
"I don't know what you're talking about," I denied. Of course, I knew she'd bring him up eventually, but I wasn't about to give her the satisfaction. There was nothing to tell. Also, I had never thought of Dominic Fletcher in that way before!
He was the uncle to my ex and I had only said 'hello' to him each time I saw him. Moreover, what occurred between us was just one kiss. One stupid act of revenge. Regardless, I couldn't deny the quiet satisfaction I felt every time I caught Owen's face twist in rage about the thought of me fucking his uncle.
"Come on, Harper," Clara pressed, pouting.
"You're twenty-four, not a child. Screw what people think. You're too good for that idiot anyway, and you don't have to be embarrassed about what happened."
Clara continued, pointing to herself. "If it were me? I wouldn't. I mean, Dominic is a freaking Daddy. Who wouldn't want a taste of those sinful lips?"
I arched a brow at her, but she only shrugged and took another sip.
"That's why I brought you here," she said, voice low and suggestive. "Don't worry, I'm not selling you off. I just want you to get a taste of what you've been missing. None of those evil family members of yours would dare drag you out of here. They can't because they don't know where you went."
My father was well connected. And with my face now known after what happened in the charity gala, people could inform him. I eyed the entrance, my heart leaping into my throat as if any second he or worse, Elizabeth would burst through the doors and drag me home.
I should leave. A girl with any sense of 'proper upbringing' would have. But instead, I stayed rooted in my seat.
The chandeliers spilled fractured light over rows of poker tables. The air hung thick with whiskey and cigars. As well as cologne and perfume from men in tailored suits and women in glittering gowns.
This place was…overwhelming and dangerous. I didn't think it had anything to do with the rebellion slowly building in me or maybe it did.
I sat up straighter, the back of my neck tingling and goosebumps rose along my skin. Someone was watching me. Oddly familiar. My gaze dragged toward the far side of the casino to where velvet curtains sealed across a shadowed alcove.
"Don't look." Clara whispered.
I jolted at the sound of her voice. And I stared at her curiously with a frown. "Why not?"
"The devil is in there and it's rumoured if you look too much in that place he's going to steal your soul." Clara said.
I snickered, then my eyes widened as I saw the seriousness in her expression. "You're kidding, right?"
"Why should I tease you about such? Don't just look. Women had been hypnotised and got in there but never came out the same."
Okay. That sounds ridiculous and seriously made up by someone who didn't want anyone looking at that place. But why?
Against my better judgment, I turned to look again, forcing a swallow. I trembled, my sweaty palms clamped tightly and my brows furrowed as I saw shadows.
I strained my eyes to get a closer look but a hand on my shoulder snapped my attention. I turned annoyedly towards Clara but instead, my eyes locked on masculine face with mischievous green eyes and a lopsided smile.
"Clara?" I mumbled. Where the hell did she go? I quickly scanned the room but I couldn't find her here. Was she mad that I didn't tell her about Dominic? But I had nothing to say!
I started to climb down from my chair but the man that interrupted me rested his hand on my exposed lap and began to draw tiny circles on it. I winced, biting the inside of my cheek before fixing him with my stare.
"I can't help but notice you from across the room. You're a work of art, darling. Why is someone as gorgeous as you sitting alone?" He asked, his voice grating on my nerves and it made my skin crawl.
"Can you take off your hand sir?" I said in my most polite voice ever. When all I wanted to do was yell at him to get the fuck out of my face.
His finger dug into my skin, sliding up my thigh and I clenched my teeth, trying to smack his hand away, but he grabbed my wrist and hauled me off the stool into his chest. My eyes went wide as I toppled forward, landing on him, his other hand cinched around my waist.
"What the hell?!" I hissed, shoving with my free hand. He didn't yield. Rather he held my hands.
"Let me go. This instant!" I said, my voice firm.
Yet, no reaction. Perhaps I was speaking to the air right now or even the vacant barstools and it didn't help that everyone minded their business and barely was staring in my direction. So, no help. Fucking great.
"Why, love?" he murmured, his stale breath fanned across my face and I gagged, my stomach rolling in response.
"When you keep seducing me like that, why would I ever let you go?" He started groping me with both hands.
He slipped the strap of my dress down. My reflex took over: my palm came up and slapped him hard across the cheek and I followed with a kick to his groin before he could react, running. He doubled over, clutching himself, cursing.
"Someone should stop that little whore!" he spat.
Gosh! What the hell was I thinking? That I'd come to a place like this and walked out intact?
I was somewhat relaxed when Clara had been with me and barely thought of how dangerous this place was. Now she had just vanished without saying anything. Had she seriously left me here with the wolves?
My heart quickened as I darted for the entrance in my damned four-inch heels. I bumped into someone without looking, muttering, "Sorry," and kept going.
Just as I reached the doors, a hand clasped a handful of my hair and yanked me back.
"You think you can run from me?" The bastard hissed in my ear.
"Let me go!" I cried, attempting to loosen his grip on my hair by pinching his hand. However, it only tightened.
"I'd prefer to hear that cry somewhere else, my bed or on the floor where a whore like you can be fucked," he snarled, biting my earlobe.
I shoved down the nausea that surged up my throat, gritting my teeth and I started to say something.
"How about you pick on someone your size?" a cool voice cut in.
The man's grip suddenly went slack as if burned. He reeled back, stunned. I panted, desperately trying to catch my breath.
Then I turned around.