Page 144 of Indulge
When they shove me into a back room, the music dulls into a muffled hum. The lights are low, the walls bare except for a single camera blinking red in the corner.
“How do you know that name?” one of them demands.
I clasp my hands together in front of me, pretending to tremble just enough to look harmless. “Someone told me she might be hiring.”
“Bullshit.” He steps closer.
Before I can answer, a soft British voice cuts through the tension.
“That’s enough.”
The men freeze instantly.
And then she appears.
Madame Eve glides through the doorway. She’s elegant, every inch of her dripping with money and menace. Her hair is a sleek wave of dark blonde, her lips painted the kind of red only villains wear.
“Leave us,” she says.
The guards exchange a look but obey, stepping out and closing the door behind them.
She studies me in silence for a beat too long, head tilted, a small amused smile curling her lips.
“So…” she says softly. “You’re looking for me.”
I swallow. “Yes. I heard you’re the best at what you do. I was hoping to find work.”
“Work,” she repeats, eyes flicking over me. “And what exactly is it that you do, darling?”
I lift my chin, matching her stare. “Whatever it takes to earn your trust.”
Her smile widens, sharp and knowing. “Oh, I do love ambition. You’ve come a long way, dear.”
I shrug. “I had no other choice but to run. And I’ve been told you’re the only one who might be able to save me.”
That’s how cults work. The premise of saving. That I’m weak and easy to manipulate into who they want me to be. Believe their bullshit.
She gestures to a velvet chair in front of the desk.
“Sit. Let’s see if you’re worth my time.”
69
ROWAN
The screen flickers as Bella sits across from Madame Eve like a lamb in a den of serpents, legs crossed, shoulders square, chin lifted. Pretending not to be terrified.
But I know that look. I know the tremor she’s hiding behind her calm.
“Don’t push her too hard,” I mutter, leaning forward.
I know Bella can’t hear me. Her earpiece is only linked to Drago’s for the possibility of extraction.
Reggie doesn’t say a word. His jaw’s locked, hands gripping the steering wheel even though the engine’s off. The laptop glows between us.
Drago shifts in the back seat, tapping furiously at the keyboard to clean up the feed. “I’m working on getting a clearer sound. The mic’s catching too much bass from the floor below.”
Finally, her voice comes through, and my heart flutters.
