Page 26

26

PENNY

If there’s one thing I learned in therapy, it’s to push myself a few inches past what I think I can handle. It worked in my favor taking the leap of faith on this apartment, so it may work again. Sure, Luke is extra, but at least he seems harmless. If anything he’s predictable in his over-the-top sexuality.

And right now in this stage of my life, predictable is comforting.

Plus, he supplied me with some great pointers on dance moves, as well as the cat-and-mouse game that men seem to like. It’s not like I’ve ever had free access to the male brain from someone so willing to dump whatever is on his mind.

And with Luke, there’s no reading between the lines. He says it how it is, and I kind of like that.

But despite all of the mental prep work I’ve done for tonight, I still find myself twitchy, since I clearly do not know what to expect from the actual Glow Night event.

There’s a lot of really fun clubs in and around Portland. Well, so I’ve heard. I’ve never actually had a chance to fully experience any of them.

Angie and Claire have been known to cause quite the ruckus at a few of them. It’s no wonder my brothers keep them surrounded by a whole security squad. But I don’t want that tonight.

And as much as it would be fun having Angie and Claire be a part of this, I need to not use their company as a security blanket.

So I’m on my own tonight, just as I’ve been on my own most nights for an entire year.

While it does feel sad not to have anyone to lean on, I do find it oddly refreshing not to have anyone to watch me be awkward in a social situation.

Granted, the goal is to blend in and not stand out.

I spent a couple of hours online, analyzing descriptions and images, trying to determine what the theme of Glow Night really entailed. Luckily, the little boutiques in town have a delivery service that makes everything super convenient to come up with a last-minute outfit.

Honestly, this is where not having a female roommate is really an inconvenience. At least then, we could possibly share clothes.

Figuring that white lights would be present, I opted for a white miniskirt and a white halter top. I also got a cute neon light-up necklace that has a pink glowing flower as the pendant.

Tonight is my opportunity to face some social fears and try to expand on my friends list which just happens to have one member right now—Luke.

Grabbing my journal, I try to manifest the hell out of any positive energy circulating around me.

It’s time to cross off another goal from my list. Who knows, maybe even a couple will get accomplished all in one outing.

Making my way to my own closet, I pull down the outfit I had picked out specifically for tonight from its hangers. I steamed out the wrinkles but have yet to try it on.

I strip down, tossing my lounge clothes into the hamper, and slip on my white panty and strapless bra set that is made of silk and lace. It always makes me feel special to have nice undergarments—even if I don’t have plans for anyone to see them.

I slide on the halter top next, tying the strap around my neck into a bow. The front rides up, completely revealing my navel and abs, and there’s not much I can do to stop that either—unless I tug it down and expose more cleavage. My boobs are basically counting on the tie not to fail, otherwise the top would be rendered useless.

When I eye the matching miniskirt, I know my booty is not going to fit.

How did I not notice its length so I could find a backup outfit?

The skirt is basically panties without the crotch.

This is all entirely my fault for buying something last-minute and expecting it to work out. But it’s not like these things typically get tried on in a store anyway.

Sticking to the theme of the night, I have no choice but to pull them on and wiggle my tush inside without ripping the seam.

At least the material stretches to accommodate my curves—and I have them. I’ll just have to be extra cautious if I need to bend over to pick something up.

Opting for modesty, which is almost like a running joke going on in my head, I slide on a pair of thigh high panty hose, a garter belt, and then secure the clips into place.

One glance in the mirror has me cringing. I don’t look bad per se. I actually think the outfit complements what I’ve got. It’s just that I’m basically highlighting the fact that I’m looking for fun.

Collins’s disapproving voice cuts through my thoughts. Too bad he’s not my keeper for tonight. And honestly, his opinion doesn’t matter.

I am angry that he pushed down his walls enough to kiss me, but then erected them back into place—and with stronger material—before I could offer one back.

He’s a good kisser.

That’s another reason I’m pissed off.

It’s as if the universe is playing one big prank on me by dangling the perfect man in front of me and then snatching him away with his conscientiousness to do the right thing.

And if his words were true, then he will soon no longer be my bodyguard, and that probably ticks me off the most.

Just when I was getting used to him and accepting his role, he is going to bolt.

Figures…

I move into the attached bathroom, pulling out items and setting them onto the vanity. My hair is still wet from my previous shower, so I comb through it with some leave-in conditioner. I plug in my dryer and turn it on to max, allowing the heated air to whip through my hair.

When I decided to go blonde, it was more of an impulse. I wanted to reinvent myself, and doing something as simple as dying it seemed like a symbolic moment for me. Now that I’ve had time to get used to it, I think I want to keep it.

Using a curling iron, I curl the ends of my hair, making spiral ringlets. Taking my brush, I gather my locks into a high ponytail, securing it into place.

Glancing in the mirror, I frown. I think I look more “cute” than “sexy.” If I want guys to even consider talking to me, I think I need to work on the latter, although Luke did teach me that being flirty means being friendly. And I at least look friendly—approachable.

Grabbing my makeup palette, I line my eyes with black eyeliner. I dust on metallic shadow, blending it into place. Mascara finishes my look, causing my eyes to pop.

Taking down my hair, I fluff it over my shoulders. I then take half into my fingers, and then pile only that portion high on my head with a tie.

I can’t leave the room looking like this and risk sending red flags out to whoever Collins has potentially watching me in the building, so I throw on a white wrap dress. I don’t need my plans for tonight derailed before they even start.

Now that my blisters have mainly healed, wearing high heels is no longer painful. I settle on the three-inch, white satin ones that have ties that wrap up around my calves and cute little bows on the sides.

When I exit my room, I nearly knock into Luke who is coming out of his room looking like he just spent eight hours at the gym.

“Sorry, Penny. Didn’t mean to startle you.”

“No problem. Are you okay? You seem”—I gesture with my hand in a circle—“worn out?”

Luke runs his hands through his hair. “As much as I enjoy being man candy, it does get exhausting. I actually just got up from a nap. I start my shift in an hour.”

“Wow. What time will you be home tonight?” I knew he was working but never can remember his schedule, as it constantly changes.

“Not tonight,” he chuckles. “I’m there until closing at three in the morning tomorrow.”

“Sheesh.”

His eyes trail down my body. “You look nice. Where are you headed? Not-the-boyfriend’s room?”

“Definitely not going to be hanging out with not-the-boyfriend.” Because he basically declared himself never-gonna-be-my-boyfriend.

And once he finds a replacement, he’ll really be able to go through life with the title of Not My Bodyguard.

“And why is that? He seemed pretty angry that you like me more. I volunteer to help you make him jealous if you want to poke the bear to see if he’ll pounce.”

Laughter bubbles out from my throat. “Thanks for the offer. But I’ll pass.” The last thing I need is Collins to interfere more than what he already is doing.

He already told me he would be gone today but that I’ll be watched. Too bad for whoever is in charge of the bodyguard duties for the day… I’m good at sneaking away.

“So what has you looking so”—Luke taps his finger along his jaw—“promiscuous?”

I giggle. “I’m just going to a thing.”

“A thing?”

“Yes.”

“Will you be utilizing my flirting lessons?”

“Hopefully.”

Luke reaches out his hand. “Give me your phone.”

When I don’t instantly obey, he makes the gimme gimme hand.

“Why do you need it?”

“I need to program my number into your contacts in case you ever need something.”

My lips curve into a smile as I hand it over. It’s the sweetest thing he’s ever said to me. Despite the oversexualized shell he likes to hide under, at his core Luke is a sensitive guy. And the more we interact, the more I’m coming to learn this about him. “Thank you.”

“I added myself and texted from it, so now I have your number.”

I nod, and then glance down at my phone. “Super Hot Roommate?”

Luke manages to look offended. “Make it a statement and not a question.”

I roll my eyes, then head over to the main door. Taking a few cleansing breaths, I open it and swallow down all of my fear.

Baby steps .

Knowing that Collins has at least one person watching me, I decide to take the elevator to the lobby and then walk to the boutique where I had my outfit delivered.

The last time I was in the shop, I noticed that there are back door exits.

Using my phone, I schedule my ride with a female driver—and this time from a researched and known company. I then gather some outfits in my arms and pretend to shop, while discreetly checking my phone to see how far away the car is.

When my driver is just a few minutes from the boutique, I make my way into the dressing room and text her to meet me at the back of the store.

“If you need anything while in the dressing room, just ring the bell,” the worker instructs.

“Actually,” I lower my voice while cracking open the door, “I think some creeper is following me. Can I escape out the back and visit tomorrow to try on some clothes?”

“Oh, yeah, of course. Should I call the police?”

I shake my head. “I think it’s probably just my paranoia.” In a way, I’m not lying. It’s not like I actually see anyone following me—I just assume.

“Okay, come with me.”

She opens the heavy metal door, and I step out into the fresh air.

The car waiting to pick me up is idling, so I wave goodbye and settle into the backseat. I remind the driver of the address that I have tucked into my handbag on the folded-up postcard and relax my head against the cushioned headrest.

This wasn’t so bad. At the very least I should be able to have an hour of fun before Collins’s minion finds me and makes me return to my fortress.

However, the more time that passes on the trip, the more I fidget in my seat—crossing and uncrossing my ankles on repeat. I can’t tell if I’m more nervous about being found or about the event itself.

We drive the entire way in silence, passing through the city of Portland and then finding ourselves on the outskirts where the stars start to become more visible with the lack of light pollution.

“It’s beautiful out here,” I mutter, cutting through the silence. Normally I don’t mind the quiet—I actually savor it—but the more time that passes without anyone speaking, the more worried I grow over the driver falling asleep behind the wheel.

The road that once was dotted with some lone houses now turns into one cutting into a forest. The moon peeks through on occasion between the canopy of leaves, but there isn’t a light post or street sign in sight.

All these years I’ve lived in this state, and I can guarantee I’ve never been to this part of the suburbs.

The driver glances at her phone, to what I assume is a GPS.

Leaning forward, I ask, “How close are we?”

She puts on her turn signal, shifting us all the way into a sharp turn.

Shit. We are here.

“Close,” she says with a friendly laugh. “I think this is the address?”

Her hesitation makes the butterflies that were just fluttering in my stomach turn into a manic sea of wings.

“This is fancier than I was expecting,” I admit, glancing around at the nicest parking lot I’ve ever seen. It’s illuminated by subdued glowing lights, and I imagine this place would shine with beauty in the enhancement of the sun.

My google search earlier didn’t produce pictures that represent this view, but I’m sure things look different at night.

When the driver parks the car, I stay seated.

Dammit.

This is my now or never moment.

And there are a ton of cars in the parking lot which bodes well for social proof that this is a legit establishment.

I mean, I did try to check it out online, but it wasn’t like I found anything of value other than the address verification and that there was a club on site.

“Here’s my business card with my name on it.” The driver hands it to me. “You know, just in case you need a lift back tonight.”

“Thanks.”

I hand over my money and double-check that I have all of my belongings, which aren’t much. It’s just a handbag for my phone and essentials.

Stepping out into the night’s air, I take a deep breath, recite a silent motivational chant to my scared self, and shut the door.

I watch as the driver pulls away from the parking lot.

And just like that, I no longer have a ride.

Now there’s no way for me to chicken out, and I’m too far from home to go back on foot. The only logical thing to do now is walk inside and hope I recognize someone from the speed dating event.

I watch as clusters of people exit their cars, taxis, and even limos. Everyone is dressed similarly to me, except I still am wearing my wrap dress.

Glancing toward the building, I take in the sights around me.

I’m not sure what I expected, but what I see is not what I thought I’d find.

A luxury mansion takes up the focal point of the entire plot of land and looks as nondescript as any other billionaire’s abode. I mean, don’t get me wrong, the place is gorgeous with huge concrete pillars, a balcony, and intricate designs that are carved into the stone siding. Several lit-up waterfalls make the place look enchanting, as if I should expect to find royalty inside.

It very much has the appeal of the mansion my brothers use for their business events and the location of the wedding, but since it’s so dark out, it’s hard to draw any adequate conclusions.

I take my first steps toward the entrance that is bustling with energy as herds of people enter. It’s hard to know if this is the normal volume or if this is something special.

My feet propel me a few more paces, and then I feel a hand touch me. Whipping my body around, I snarl as fragmented images from the dark abyss of my mind flash in front of me.

Mark. Touching me. Standing over me. His sinister face mocking me.

And then like a warm blanket, Collins’s voice cuts through the chaotic darkness, reminding me that I have the ability to fight. Recalling the lessons taught with the blindfold on, I break free from the hold this stranger has on me.

“Back off,” I say, fully detaching myself with a step backward.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry,” the man says, holding up one hand in arrest. “You dropped your bag. Here.”

I shake my head, trying to calm my heart that wants to escape from my body. It’s pounding that hard.

I’m always dropping things. I should be accustomed to others picking them up for me. Yet I’m not.

Every touch feels foreign. Every touch causes me to panic.

Except for Collins…

His touch is different, and no matter how hard I try to provide reason, there’s really no valid explanation other than I trust him.

Collins is my safe space.

But he doesn’t want me and will be avoiding me soon.

I need to move on.

And I guess in a way, being here is me moving on.

“I’m…” I stare into his kind eyes. He’s visibly shaken from my outburst. “I’m sorry too. I thought you were someone else.”

“I’m literally here tonight to pretend to be someone else,” he says cryptically. “Here.”

I take my handbag from his palm. “Thank you.”

Slowly, my breathing returns to normal as the man departs and enters into the mansion without any formal introduction.

When will I stop being a freak?

Removing my phone from my bag, I find Margo’s number and type out a text.

Penny: I keep having these episodes…

Margo: What are you most afraid of?

Penny: Going back to the facility.

Margo: You can’t keep living your life with that fear. Because you wouldn’t be living…you’d just be waiting for the shoe to drop.

Penny: I know…

Margo: Hang in there. You already took big first steps. Be proud and celebrate all the little victories. ;) OH, and don’t miss another session with me. I’m keeping track for your report card.

Penny: Fine.

Penny: Thank you. :)

Placing my phone back into my handbag, I focus my eyes back on the mansion. The crowd has dwindled in size, having already been granted access.

Taking a deep breath, I marshal in every butterfly wreaking havoc on my nerves, ready to evict each one from my stomach before I vomit.

I can do this.

I take a step. And I take one more.

As I approach the door, it is then that I notice a couple serving as what I assume are the host and hostess. The male is dressed all in black—from head to toe—while the female is in all white. In fact, now I’m starting to notice that all the guys entering are in black. Hmmm…

As I move closer, I see that the woman is wearing a diamond-encrusted white collar around her neck. I swallow hard as I follow the attached chain until I discover that the man is holding it in his left hand, the excess loosely wrapped around his fingers.

Holy fuck.

This is one of the most erotic things I’ve seen in person, and I worry that my staring is being seen as rude.

I can’t imagine the woman didn’t choose to have this detail added to her ensemble. Her gentle smile says she is having a good time. Oh, I bet she is. Just the way that man looks at her with adoration is enough for me to connect the dots that they are smitten with each other and into the kinky stuff.

“Come closer, little one,” he says, motioning me with his free hand. He has a gentle warmth about him, yet appears very confident. “You’ll be safer inside than out here.”

I glance down at my feet and realize that they aren’t moving. How long have I been immobile and just staring? I look behind me and see that the parking lot is full of vehicles, but I’m the only one out here. Surely I’m not the last one to arrive.

I’ve been out of the social loop for a while now, but nothing about tonight feels like I’ll be entering into a normal gathering. Something feels different. Like the air is laced with electricity, charging everyone into an edgy state of being.

“Come, little dove,” the man encourages. “You obviously are new. Who is accompanying you tonight, and is your paperwork complete?”

With uncertainty, I force myself forward. If I don’t make a move, I’ll just spend the rest of the night regretting it.

“I’m here by myself, and I don’t have any papers.”

Glancing down at my outfit, I look conservative compared to the woman in the collar. Granted, I plan on taking off my wrap dress at some point and shoving it into the recesses of my handbag—if it will fit. I only wore it to get out of the building without looking like a hooker. I didn’t need to send off warning bells to a crew of watchdogs. I’m sure my brothers have the lobby attendants watching my every move as well as Collins—in addition to whoever else he hired while he was away from the job.

I know for a fact they don’t trust me.

But I also don’t trust myself.

What happens if I have another episode where someone touches me, and I freak? The whole point of coming tonight is to step outside my comfort zone. But what if I’m just pushing myself too hard or too fast?

“Don’t be frightened. Come,” the host coaxes, his kind eyes luring me.

With feet that feel like they’re walking through drying cement, I take a few steps forward, toward the couple. I watch in awe as the man whispers something to his woman, and she immediately kneels down at his feet.

Holy shit.

I’ve only read about these types of power dynamic relationships in a few books that Angie left at the house when she visited for holidays.

I’m not a big reader like she is, but I couldn’t help myself with my curiosity.

It’s vastly different witnessing this in person.

Nothing about these two looks fictional.

The host reaches out an arm to welcome me and I walk forward, allowing him to embrace me in a one-armed hug. His cologne smells so good, making me want to cuddle closer, but I resist. The last thing I need is to make the woman mad at me before I even enter the dance party. Stepping back, I take stock of the expensive five-piece suit that he is wearing. He looks regal, and by the feel of the fabric, I imagine it cost a small fortune.

“What’s your name, little one?”

“Penny Hoffman.” My words come out choked. Maybe I shouldn’t have said my last name. I’m the worst over-sharer at the most awkward times.

“Welcome. My name is Michael, and this”—he looks down and pets the head of the woman who is kneeling so patiently at his feet—“is Daphne.”

I give them each a smile, not knowing where to rest my eyes.

Michael looks around me into the dark parking lot. “Who brought you?”

“I was dropped off.” I clear my throat. “Well, basically.”

“How did you learn about us, little one? And locate us?”

Why does he keep calling me that? I know I’m on the shorter side, but I still think of myself as average.

“I was at another social event yesterday and”—I dig in my handbag and pull out the folded-up postcard—“someone handed me this.”

“Hmm…” Michael hums, unfolding the card and looking at the information that is written on it. “Interesting.”

Suddenly I feel uncomfortable—like an intruder. Maybe I should have never come here. Being scrutinized under Michael’s penetrating gaze before I even go in to dance or whatever they do here on Glow Night is causing my palms to sweat.

“I’m sorry,” I mutter, looking down at my feet, feeling the overwhelming need to apologize. “I think I’ll”—I pivot my body and take the first step—“go now.” My driver won’t be all the way back into the city and can just turn around.

“Stop, little dove. Come back.”

And I listen. Just like that. For someone who likes to break the rules, I am captivated by his verbal demands. I spin around and take the step that was once in retreat back to the intriguing—albeit overly sexual—couple.

Playing with the tie on my dress, I let out a half laugh. I’m pretty sure squirrels have more composure than I do right now.

I watch as Daphne, with her eyes still cast downward, reaches up a hand to touch Michael’s.

“You may speak, pet,” he says softly, his tone controlled but kind.

“I was once new here a year ago. It may take several visits to not feel so frightened.”

“That’s very presumptuous, pet, that Yuri will accept this unapproved visit in the first place.”

Daphne licks her lips and trails her eyes up my legs. “He’d be a fool not to.”

“I see you’re in the mood for”—Michael smirks at his woman—“fun tonight.”

There’s a twinkle in her eyes, and it’s as if they are playing a game that has secret rules. “It would be a shame to come all this way and not get the chance to discover what you came here for.” Her eyes search mine. “This place is like therapy for me. If you know what I mean.”

I nod. I know a lot of people who use dance as a stress reliever. “Makes sense.”

“Daphne?”

“Yes, sir?”

Michael’s fingers touch under her chin, coaxing her to stand. “Do you think you can show Penny around the venue?”

“It will be an honor.”

“Make sure you check in with Yuri and get her to sign any required forms and prove her identity first.”

“Certainly.”

The tension in my shoulders releases, as Daphne waits for Michael to unhook the beautifully polished silver chain that is secured to her collar. I was wondering how she would be able to dance without choking.

I can’t help but be drawn to the couple’s dynamic and vibe. They definitely match each other in terms of attractiveness. Both are stunning.

Michael leans into his girl, bites at her ear, and then whispers, “You may have some freedom tonight, but that doesn’t mean there aren’t rules to be followed. Know your role or accept the consequences.”

Michael winks at me, knowing that I heard his message to Daphne. Heat hits my cheeks first as I look away to hide my blush. I’m not sure what his cryptic message means, but by the smile on Daphne’s face, it is being received well.

“Understood.”

“And don’t piss off Yuri,” he states, his tone serious and unyielding. “I won’t stick up for you if you go against his cardinal rules.”