Page 51 of Chandelier Enthralled
“What’s happening next week?”
“An event to showcase his work. I’ve been given a press pass. But I’ll hide it, on the day.”
The idea of hiding a press pass felt a bit deceptive, but I didn’t want to say so.
My phone lit up with a text and it was from Henry.
“My brother,” I told Chloe when she looked over. “He’s invited me to dinner tomorrow.” It made me smile because I couldn’t wait to see him.
“Ask him about the snow globe.” She brightened. “Where are you having dinner?”
I hesitated, wondering if sharing the location was wise.
She looked at my phone. “Prima?”
“Yes.”
She shook her head. “Unless he booked three months ago, you guys won’t get a table.”
I set my phone down with a sigh. “Henry’s not…” My words faltered. He wasn’t just Henry—he was the CEO of a dynasty, and by that simple, irrefutable fact, so was I.
The weight of the truth settled deep, crashing against my chest. I was more privileged than I had ever wanted to admit, whether I liked it or not.
It was the usual Saturday crowd at Pendulum.
Pain coiled tight like barbed wire inside my chest with no way to ease it.
No way back to the time beforethis.
The club loomed like a dangerous secret, its halls stretched too long and the music too loud. The scent of waxed wood filled the air, along with something else, something carnal.As I moved through the rooms, they seemed to shift—each door a new passage to somewhere darker, an activity within that reflected the men who played hard.
This time, I had the sense of being watched by other members, and then came the unfamiliar feeling that eyes were watching me from the paintings. I knew this was paranoia.
Agony burrowed deeper inside me.
I’d never be able to shake the horrifying image from three days ago, Amelia floating in the pool, her pale skin glowing under the glistening sunlight, while the blue tendrils of her hair drifted around her.
Dead.
Jewel had done what she’d threatened to do. Now she was taking me down with Amelia, only this was a different kind of drowning.
Neither of us were getting out alive. I wasn’t going down without a fight.
Amelia was a good swimmer, so I knew they’d drowned her—in my own fucking pool. In the only sacred place I had memories ofher.
A precious childhood memory I clung to—the beautiful woman with bright red lips, shiny blonde hair, and a smile that makes everything feel happy and exciting. She liked to swim, too, in that same pool, and then she would read one of her novels. Sometimes, I’d sit beside her with a book she’d bought for me.
Jewel had untethered that recollection and stained it.
Who would believe a man who had already acted unhinged? I could see doubt in Atticus’ eyes, the need in Cameron to explore my psyche, chip away until he uncovered the truth, and prove to himself that I wasn’t a murderer.
Even though I’d reassured them that I had rescued Amelia from Pendulum, sent her away in a taxi, told her to get to safety, to get out of the state and put as much distance between us as possible.
But the night before her death, I had witnessed her in a scene with three men. That, right there, gave me a motive—the jealous lover.
Jewel’s method of plunging me over the edge was monstrously crafted. This was also her way of seducing me back, even as my friends had advised me never to return to Pendulum.
My eyes searched the rooms for her. If it was to be me who ended this, a man willing to throw away his freedom, so be it.
