CHAPTER 57: CAPTURED BY MY DREAM

ANNABETH SAINT

I gripped the ballroom balcony’s stone railing and stared at the obsidian night. The lights shining from the windows of the Echelon Hotel barely pierced the cimmerian darkness.

Alone on the balcony, hoping this shadow-filled world would swallow me whole, I looked down, down, down. Here was a ready-made abyss I could fall into...

"Are you going to jump?"

Startled by the deep male voice, I stepped back from the railing and looked at the tall, well-dressed man standing nearby. He had short, styled brown hair and dark, dark eyes. The energy of this man was intense. So much so that I felt his presence like a gravitational pull. He was a planet. I was an insignificant moon circling him.

He lifted his eyebrows and nodded toward the churning ocean. "Hmm?"

"I haven’t decided," I answered. I wrapped my arms around myself and shivered. I’d been out in the cold wind too long. "But I have a Plan B, which is to stand here and freeze to death."

"Easy to do in your current get-up. That dress you’re wearing is ridiculous."

I put my hand against her chest in mock horror. "How dare you, sir. This ugly frock was picked especially by my stepmother. She wants me to stand out at the party."

"Mission accomplished. You look like a startled chicken."

I grinned. "Thank you. That was exactly the look I was going for."

The corner of his mouth lifted just enough to suggest a smile. With his formidable gaze pinned on me, he walked forward until he was mere inches away. He took a drag off his long black cigarette. He exhaled upward, and I watched the smoke drift away like forgotten wishes.

I shook the floofy edge of the knee-length orange monstrosity. Badly dyed feathers fluttered onto the balcony. "You think I could turn this dress into wings and fly out of here?"

"Chickens can’t fly." He studied my face for a long moment. He took a final drag off his cigarette and then flicked it over the railing. "Exit through the front door. Then burn your circus dress so no one else loses their eyesight staring at it."

I laughed, and felt the knot of anxiety in my chest loosen. It was odd to feel relief, even comfort, in the presence of this intimidating man.

I turned back to the stranger, lowering my voice. "I have to go now."

"See you around, Cinderella."

I wake up from the dream with my heart pounding in my chest. I jolted upward, gripping the bedcovers so hard my knuckles hurt.

Was that a dream? A memory? I don’t remember being on a hotel balcony contemplating the night. Given my precarious situation in my family, I certainly could see myself falling into an abyss.

The idea of sinking into a quiet endless dark occurred to me too often these days.

I had to make a move soon.

I only had one desperate play left.

***|***|***|***|***

ANNABETH SAINT

I stood before the King of Hell himself, reclusive and ruthless CEO Devon Thorne.

Hidden in the deep shadows of the VIP room, only the glowing tip of his lit cigarette could be seen from the shadows. The man commanded respect in the same way an ancient altar demanded reverence. No one dared to show even a silver of disdain lest they be struck down by a dark god’s lightning.

The most dangerous thing about Devon Thorne? He made you want to kneel at his feet. Like humbling yourself before him was a gift he bestowed.

I imagined his cold, calculating gaze probably saw straight through my wet clothes to the trembling girl beneath. I knew I looked terrible. My mile-long walk in the rain had ensured I was soaked to the bone. Water drip-drip-dripped from my long dark hair. And my feet squelched inside my sensible loafers.

I was embarrassed to present myself to Mr. Thorne looking like a drowned rat, but I’d barely escaped from my cruel family and the horrible Mr. Wang. Throwing myself on the mercy of Ash City’s infamous devil was my only hope to escape the future planned by my father and stepmother.

"And you are?" asked Mr. Thorne.

"Annabeth Diana Saint. Twenty-two years old. College graduate. Blood type AB." I sucked in a breath. "V-virgin. I’m clean, Mr. Thorne."

"Why is this information useful to me?"

"I ... uh..."

"You dare to enter my club, but you don’t dare to ask for your wish?" Mr. Thorne sighed. "Childish."

The well-dressed man with a buzz cut, military bearing, and a neutral expression was Gibson. Everyone knew that Gibson was assistant, confidant, and the only person alive allowed near Devon Thorne. "Sir, would you like me to escort Miss Saint out?"

"I need your help," I blurted.

"I’m not well known for my charitable acts, Miss Wilson. There’s a Methodist church down the street. If you need saving, try there."

"God has abandoned me, Mr. Thorne. That’s why I want to make a deal with the devil."

He chuckled. "Who gave you the courage?"

"No one. I’m scared out of my wits. But you’re my last hope." I shivered from the cold. The air conditioning in this private club was at Arctic levels. Even my teeth chattered. I wrapped my arms around myself, my small white purse banging against my hip.

"Desperate souls often seek me out. But favors aren’t free." He leaned forward enough that I could see his large hand crush the half-finished cigarette into a crystal ash tray. On his thumb was a wide jade ring, the kind emperors wore in ancient times. "What’s your payment for my services? Your virginity?"

I wasn’t sure what she intended to offer for Mr. Thorne’s help. But if I needed to trade my innocence for safety, then so be it. I nodded.

"I get half a dozen girls a week offering me their first time." The tip of his cigarette glowed as he took a drag. "Cinderella, you should know I’m a businessman, not a savior."