Page 76 of Bed of Thorns

Smile until it hurts.

Those were all things my mother had told me when I was young.

When she cared about me.

The club looked like an old-fashioned plantation complete with several huge columns at the front, the massive double doors ornate, stained-glass windows flanking either side. Outside were huge ceramic planters filled with colorful flowers, the massive wraparound deck holding at least a dozen rockers, all in the same color of pure white.

As the doors were magically opened when we moved onto the stairs, the two men who’d allowed us entrance bowed their heads. Was this some kind of required respect for guests? It was all too… formal, structured in such a way that I wondered what kind of punishment they’d receive if they dared not follow the rules.

“We’ve been expecting you, Mr. Montego, Ms. Carver,” one of them said without looking at either one of us. “The main dining room is through the doors at the end of the hallway. Enjoy your evening.”

The words were as practiced as the actions they were taking.

A lump remained in my throat as Edmond took his time leading us toward the required destination. I was lightheaded, the nausea leaving copious numbers of butterflies. I could barely stand what we were being forced to endure but promised myself that I’d bite my tongue.

I only hoped I could keep that promise.

Music filled the hallway, the sounds of some big band adding to the festive mood. Then I heard voices, dozens of them coming from the space. There was laughter, men and women, all seeming to be enjoying their evening already.

And still, I felt sick inside.

Edmond remained quiet, refusing to look at me until we were only a few feet away from the open doors. Then he slowly lowered his head. “This is a very special night, Mercedes. I do hope you can find some joy in my success.”

Why was his tone harsh, conciliatory? Why did it seem his glare was stern, as if already admonishing me for some atrocious behavior? I was thrown by the moment, trying to find my voice. Like a good little girl, I nodded my head, doing everything I could not to chew the inside of my mouth until I tasted blood.

When he swept me into the room, I was floored by the number of crystal chandeliers hanging from a gothic, very high ceiling. There were several oversized windows adorned with velvet drapes, a rich burgundy in color. There were round tables set up for a dinner serving on one side of the room, crystal goblets rimmed in gold placed on two different colored tablecloths in burgundy and gold. Everywhere there were twinkling lights hanging from large ficus trees.

And on the other side was a beautiful grand piano, a small orchestra behind, a dance floor in front. Candles were everywhere. One wall held a dark wooden bar, with at least four bartenders waiting to take an order.

I pulled him to a stop just inside the door, trying to take it all in. If I had to count, I’d say there were at least one hundred people in the room, but there could be more. The men were all debonaire in their penguin suits, the women dressed as if attending the Oscars. I suddenly felt very small.

“Remember,” he whispered, nuzzling into my ear, “they all put their pants or panties on the same way every morning.” Growling, he nipped my ear, allowing me to see my Edmond again if only for a few minutes.

“I’d like to see that, wouldn’t you?” I asked, planting my plastic smile in position.

“Actually, yes, I would.” He walked us forward just as several men and two women approached. They were all scrutinizing the both of us, glancing up and down as if determining if we’d passed the last test.

Dear God, this was something out of a horror movie, not real life.

“Edmond. There you are and right on time. And this must be the beautiful lady I’ve heard so much about,” one of the men said and took my hand, his eyes locking with mine. I knew at that very moment he was the man who’d been stalking me. When he kissed my knuckles, I almost yanked my arm away.

“And you are?” I managed, almost immediately regretting what had to be a faux pas.

He laughed, his voice booming above the others. “Carl Walters, the man who brought Edmond into the fold.”

The fold. It sounded like a secret society.

And that terrified me even more.

* * *

“So what do you think now?” Edmond asked as he held me close, moving around the dance floor as if he’d taken lessons.

“What do I think?” I repeated as I slipped my arm around his neck, toying with a long strand of hair. He turned me several more times, his smile enigmatic. “I think dinner was fabulous, the music incredible.” I wasn’t lying. Between the fabulous filet mignon and the shrimp and lobster, the feast had been prepared for a king. Even the conversation had been lively with the men and women we’d been selected to sit with.

However, there’d been no discussions regarding business, simply chatter about fine wines and the latest acquisition the couple had made. While they seemed to be accepting of our inclusion, I’d felt stares coming from almost everyone the entire time we’d been here. That had left me uncomfortable, even though I was beginning to question my reasoning.

As the band switched to a slower song, he pulled me even closer, allowing me to feel the rapid beating of his heart. I nuzzled against him, drinking in his intoxicating scent, the way he moved around the dance floor allowing me to scan the room nonchalantly.

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