Page 36 of Cruel Pleasures
Her teeth nibble gently on her bottom lip before she catches herself and remembers she’s Sasha right now. An heiress to a billion dollar family. Her family’s just as rich as the others in the room no matter the hue of her complexion.
Her confidence returns in spades.
She steps off the bottom stair to continue her search, but then a man intercepts her.
Not Hurst.
Chadwick Thomas, the son of tech icon Damon Thomas. The pompous, egotistical ass for a district attorney that never shuts up about his search for a wife.
He accosts her. He makes it so that escape is near impossible, introducing himself. She escapes only once she’s able to slip past him.
The crowd swallows her up, much to his displeasure.
Being the actress that she is, she pretends she’s casually wandering the party. No one knows she’s still searching for Hurst.
Except for me.
I’m unseen by everyone. I’m the lurker that sees everything. I’m the looming presence that’s everywhere.
The invisible set of eyes you feel on you every moment.
I have always been the outsider. I have always been far removed from others. It’s how I have preferred to exist.
Once, many years ago, I tried to be different. Something other than what I am. I quickly learned the pain and torment was far from worth it. Life apart from other human beings is true freedom. Untethered and unbound from emotion.
Alone to do as I wish…
Imani wanders and I follow. Our own game of cat and mouse she doesn’t realize she’s playing.
The ballroom is yet another sickening display of society members indulging. Evil in the flesh.
Lives will be lost by the end of these games.
The members watching on will be thoroughly entertained, which is all that matters in these circles.
Though I’m no less innocent. I’m no better. I’m no savior for what’s about to happen. I’ve been tasked with a simple request that I’ve chosen to carry out.
I skulk behind the dozens of spinning, twirling couples on the ballroom dance floor. Imani sticks out despite her best efforts, the vibrant blue shade of her gown popping against her brown skin. She’s stolen away for a second time by Thomas. Some nauseating attempt at sweeping her off her feet through dance.
Ice chills the network of veins inside me. I’m as cold on the outside as I am on the inside, drifting along the outer edges of the room. Wherever Imani goes, I go. She’s kept within my field of vision at all times.
The dark and twisted guardian angel she doesn’t even know she has.
Except there will be no saving her, and there’s nothing about this that will be angelic.
My purpose is much more unsettling than that. If Imani knew the truth of what she’s gotten herself caught up in, she’d do more than what she did last night. She’d be so traumatized she’d never be the same again.
I almost feel sorry for her.
Then she bumps into Hurst and a magical sort of spark gleams in her eyes.
The iciness intensifies in my veins, and I find myself so honed into the moment, everyone else blurs. The others in the ballroom become background noise as I study the scene unfolding.
Hurst does what Thomas couldn’t—he puts on his charm and whisks her away into a dance that’s night and day from the quick one she’d shared with Thomas. Hurst knows what he’s doing.
He flirts with finesse. He dizzies her with hints of passion. He grins and clutches her close and doesn’t give her a moment to think too long.
All by design. All a part of the plan.
