Page 98 of Chandelier Sin
Or maybe, just maybe…My mind tortured me with the thought that I was right, and I’d just witnessed our first real casualty.
Only Greyson was too damn fragile to lose.
Fifteen minutes away from my destination, I sped up the winding roads of Bel Air with my McLaren effortlessly hugging the tight curves.
Chrysalis was the quiet sanctuary I craved. A place of luxury I visited to spend time with good friends, enjoy fine dining at Imperial, their private restaurant, and drink top-rated wines.
Tonight, the dress code was casual; no stuffy tux required, just good old jeans and jackets, with a dab of Clive Christian.
When I needed to shut out the world, that exclusive club welcomed me. More than this, everyone wanted to be there. Women were never coerced. They were some of the smartest people I’d met, too. The conversation was always engaging, and their appreciation for what we could give them—untold pleasures—meant everything.
I’d missed my favorite refuge while focusing more of my time at Pendulum. I’d hoped to balance my evenings between them. So far, that hadn’t worked out.
Chrysalis was also the place where differences were settled,where men reined in their egos and friends found quiet corners to talk. Which was why this meeting with Greyson was so important.
It was Friday night, and I hadn’t spoken with Greyson since our disagreement. I hoped he’d accept my offer of a drink in way of an apology for what had happened on Tuesday when he’d stormed out of my home with Amelia in tow. The little minx had caused us trouble.
I believed our friendship could endure anything, but recently, I’d been questioning this. Him choosing a woman over me was inevitable at some point. Only I wasn’t ready to lose Greyson to a woman I didn’t trust.
Maybe he’d bring Amelia. If so, I’d have to dig deep to deliver a convincing apology.
The car drove like a dream—until it didn’t.
The steering wheel suddenly spun out of my grip. I struggled to keep control. The wheel turned without me touching it. My foot slammed down on the brake—no response.
Jesus.
The car took a sharp turn, barely making it. I again pressed down on the brake, but the vehicle did not respond.
Heart in my throat, I glanced in my review mirror and saw a town car keeping pace, tailgating.
This wasn’t how I’d envisioned myself going out.
An oncoming Lexus whooshed by, and my car barely cleared it. The angry sound of its horn faded as it disappeared behind me.
The McLaren fish-tailed and then corrected itself. They wanted me to know they were doing this.
I grabbed my phone, but who to call?
The car jerked sharply again, and my phone went flying, landing at my feet. I gripped the wheel again, struggling to steer.
I braced myself as the McLaren skidded to the road’s edge.
The sudden stop jerked me forward, seatbelt digging into my chest, air forced out of my lungs.
Unclipping my seatbelt, I fumbled for my phone and then threwopen the door, leaping out. Staggering back from the car, I wiped away the perspiration that was dripping into my eyes.
I was just down the hill from Chrysalis.
The town car drove by me slowly, like the driver wanted me to notice and was mocking me. Blacked out windows. No number plates. Proving my theory—the mystery car had hijacked control of my McLaren.
The town car sped away.
I’d heard this kind of thing was possible, but never in a million years did I imagine being on the receiving end of that kind of experience.
My hands balled into fists as I stared at my car. The vehicle had been in pristine condition before this happened.
I knew I hadn’t imagined it.
