Page 7 of Cruel Pleasures
A trip out of the city—a trip to the Isle of Hurst—with him, for a Midnight Society event.
I just met the guy! I have no clue who the hell he is beyond the fact that he was one of Lyra’s subscribers. He could be some kind of trafficker for all I know. Some drug kingpin or crime lord.
What if he’s been sent here by the club to lure me to their event? Do they know I’m suspicious of Lyra’s disappearance?
A thousand and one paranoid theories explode inside my head in the few short minutes Francesco’s gone.
I’m so deep in my spiraling thoughts that I almost don’t notice the man across the street whose gaze is fixed onto me.
I feel it before I see it—the weight of his concentrated stare.
Glancing past the many pedestrians walking in every direction on the busy downtown street, he sticks out like a sore thumb. Dressed in all black, his hands plunged deep into his long overcoat, there’s no question what he’s looking at.
Me.
I’m so thrown by him, I do nothing except sit at the table with the shot of espresso I won’t be drinking and stare back. I admire the chiseled slope of his nose and cheeks and how his neat beard frames his face.
But more than anything, I’m caught up in the intimidating trance of his dark, almond-shaped eyes and their ability to rip the air from my lungs.
Who is he and what does he want from me?
I’m not sure how I know he wants something other than the ripple of what can only be women’s intuition.
“Bella, is it a yes?” Francesco asks. “Will you be my guest?”
I drag my attention away from the mystery man across the street and back to Francesco who’s returned clutching an espresso. He’s smiling down at me again with the lecherous gleam he’d been wearing earlier, so enthused by the idea I’ll be his guest for the event.
You have to. This could lead you to Lyra.
“Sure,” I answer, and then I paste my pleasant smile back on. “I’ll come with you.”
3. Imani
Escaspism. - RAYE
This is the craziest thing I’ve ever done in my life.
Crazier than the time I participated in an amateur stripper night junior year in college. This is crazier than the stolen gun I helped my little sister Jamila make disappear.
I’m approaching the small charter plane that’s set to take me to the destination where the mysterious Midnight Society event will be happening.
Francesco was supposed to be escorting me… until two days ago when a woman called my phone screaming hysterically at me. Apparently, Francesco was married, and she wouldn’t be allowing her husband to attend any event with the mistress he’s been cheating on her with.
Baffled by the accusations, I had hung up on her.
I already had the event invitation. Francesco had arranged my flight and given me all the info I needed to make it to the Isle of Hurst, where the festivities would be held. Did I really have an excuse not to go without him?
Not really, not other than sheer nerves and trepidation. Both of which flutter in my stomach but aren’t enough to stop me.
The name on my invitation reads Sasha Newton. An alias Francesco had mentioned was necessary because only members were allowed. When I pointed out it might not be a good idea to assume the identity of an heiress to a billion dollar family, he mentioned Sasha hadn’t been heard from in years.
A thorough internet search told me she hadn’t been seen since leaving for medical school a few years ago.
“No one will know, bella,” Francesco had insisted. “You will be with me, and no one will ask questions.”
So I did my research. I read up on anything I could find pertaining to Sasha Newton and learned the most trivial details about her. If I was going to be Sasha Newton for the event, then the least I could do was cosplay her believably.
I would even have to look the part.
