Page 7 of Stolen Temptation (Irish Kings #3)

Kiara

“Are you ready?” The strength in Mae’s voice is wasted on me.

“Not even a little bit.” My leg won’t stop jiggling from nerves. Mae runs her soft hand over my cheek in a soothing gesture.

“You know you can’t stay here any longer,” she whispers. Her voice cracks. “Master Leonardo has made that impossible.”

After Leo basically shoved me onto the auction floor and had his guard prance me around to meet a bunch of creepy-ass dudes that I’ve already done my best to forget, I was escorted back to a dressing room somewhere in the bowels of this cavernous place.

Despite the generous size, the space may as well be a closet.

I’ve never experienced a deeper sense of claustrophobia.

Of being caged.

An invisible vice tightens around my ribs.

Aside from an oversized vanity fit for ten people to do their makeup at once, the room is empty. Several bright lights beat down on us.

A velvety couch is slung into one corner of the room.

Dress bags hang over it, limp and lifeless.

I wish I could climb into one and pretend my life wasn’t a giant dumpster fire.

With my luck, though, I’d pass out from heat and low oxygen, and then one of the shining examples of society in attendance at this event would mistake me for a dead body and toss the bag into an incinerator with me inside.

Good to know I’m remaining optimistic in the face of adversity.

Mae paces behind me. I watch her in the mirror until my eyes catch on my own reflection. I cringe at the sight. As if selling me to the highest bidder wasn’t already terrible enough, Leo decided to double down on my horror by buying me a dress that could cause even a sex worker to blush.

The neckline dips obscenely low between my breasts, and the material clings tightly to my curves before ending just below my ass. The silver platform stilettos on my feet would fit right in at a strip club.

I don’t know what I was expecting. An elegant ballgown? Please.

Even after all the ugliness within this family, I guess a tiny part of me still hoped for a happy ending. That’s how I know I’ve read too many fairy tales.

Or maybe it’s just easier to hope for a happily ever after than it is to accept my sad reality.

An image of that mysterious man’s face appears in my mind.

He stood off to the side, and unlike the rest of the leering masses, his gaze didn’t make my skin crawl.

I’d say it’s because he’s so gorgeous, but I don’t think that’s it.

Plenty of other handsome men dotted the crowd, but their attention left me nauseous. Not his.

No, his attention left me feeling like I’d just experienced an electric shock.

The sensation reminded me of one of the romance novels my mom used to read.

Those same books still sit on the shelves in my suite of rooms at home, and I’ve read each one at least once.

Those stories help me feel closer to her.

I noticed the man before he spotted me, probably because I got the sense that he wants to be here about as much as I do. Maybe if we’d met like normal people, at a coffee shop or bar somewhere, we would have struck up a conversation, possibly even gone out to dinner or a movie.

I must be one of the only women my age in this entire country who’s never been out on a single date.

I turn to Mae. “Do you have the bag?”

She nods before retrieving the bag containing a change of clothes from its hiding spot beneath the sofa.

We only had three days to devise an escape plan, and we spent most of that time lamenting the fact that escape also means separation.

For good.

We’re both leaving the only home we know, and we can’t stay together.

Once Leo realizes I’m gone, he’ll hunt for Mae first. He knows we’re inseparable. He’ll instantly realize that she had something to do with my disappearance, and he won’t ask any questions. Leo’s not the type.

He’ll kill Mae if she stays. I can’t let that happen. And this way, if I’m found, she’ll hopefully still be safe.

While my mother was alive, she kept a small stash of money with her in case of a rainy day, safely hidden in a hollowed out copy of her favorite historical romance. Deep down in her heart, she knew that one day I’d have to run and would need her help.

I forced Mae to take the largest share. She’ll need to buy a plane ticket back to France. I figured her best bet would be to return to a country where she has friends and family to keep her safe. Somewhere Leo De Luca is unknown.

I kept a little under fifteen-hundred dollars for myself. I’ll need it to get to wherever I’m going. Not that I have any idea how to survive on my own out in the wild. I’ve never been alone before, and the idea of all that freedom both exhilarates and terrifies me.

My plan is to hop on a train at Grand Central Station. One headed as far from here as possible.

Maybe I’ll travel west and keep moving until I hit San Francisco. Maybe from there, I’ll hop a flight to Hawaii or Guam. Somewhere without a white winter.

Strangely, just thinking of warmth fills me with a bit more strength.

I can do this.

I stand from the vanity, and Mae unzips my dress. Only shaking a little, I pull on the spare clothes. We thought about disguising me as a member of the waitstaff or as a caterer, but all the people working those positions are male.

The only women employed at Leo’s auction besides the stagehands are the half-naked ladies showing off the wares on stage or serving drinks in the VIP lounge, where Leo is sure to be watching.

Dressing like a stagehand is the safest way to fit in. Black clothes. Dark sneakers. Ass covered.

Once I’m dressed, Mae and I face each other. My chest tightens. These are our last few moments together. As soon as she steps out that door, she’s gone forever.

And so am I.

I throw my arms around her and speak through the lump in my throat. “I’m going to miss you.”

“You have always been my darling.” Her words sink into my bones like water through sand as she squeezes me. “You always will be.”

“I’ll never forget you.”

She sniffles. “I’ll never forget you either.”

There’s nothing else to say. Nothing that won’t have us bursting into tears, at least. And we don’t have time for that. Not with our survival on the line.

“Go,” I mouth to her.

Sorrow works through her expression before she gives me one last shaky smile. She wipes her face and sucks in a congested breath. “Sweet girl. Never give up until you find happiness.”

After pressing one final kiss to my cheek, she disappears out the door.

Watching her go for the last time is as painful as being ripped in half, but somehow it only motivates me to succeed in my own escape even more.

There’s no way in hell I’ll survive in this criminal world without her. If she goes, so must I.

I peek at myself in the mirror one last time.

Hating the sight of the long, dark barrel curls created by a flat iron, I wrestle my hair into a bun at the base of my neck and smooth the sides around my small heart-shaped face. Fear quivers in my brown eyes, the flecks of green in them barely visible. My mouth twitches, my lips rolling together.

Despite the fact that I’m fighting back tears, I definitely look like a stagehand.

A stagehand wearing way too much makeup.

After wiping some of it off, I fidget with my bun. It’s a hairdo Leo’s never seen me wear, and I’m hoping the effect, along with my change of clothes, will help disguise me.

From the pocket of my pants, I pull out the little earpiece Mae snagged from a table on our way in here for authenticity, so I’d match the other workers.

I love her so much and miss her already with every fiber of my being.

Keep it together, Kiara.

“This is my one chance.” I stare into my own eyes as I whisper those words. This is it.

I’ve opened doors probably a million times in my life, but when I pull open the one to the dressing room so I can leave, none of my experience prepares me for the deluge of fear that ices my veins.

The security guards stationed outside the entrance around the corner don’t glance my way. No one’s expecting me to run. Why would they? In twenty-four years of being a prisoner in this family, I’ve never attempted to flee. For a long time I had Mom to think of, then Mae.

Maybe that’s why I’m scared out of my mind as I hasten down this darkened corridor, trying to remember everything I noticed when we arrived a few hours ago. But it doesn’t work. I can’t recall anything.

Not when I’m this amped.

There was the long, panicky ride. There was Leo and a security detail leading me down into a dangerous, abandoned-subway-station-looking place. Then, echoey, torch-lit darkness that turned into winding corridors.

No shortcuts. No exits.

No ideas about how to escape on my own without being detected.

I zip around the next corner and find myself in a hallway that runs the circumference of the auction floor. Even though I’ve already seen it once, the sheer glitz of everything captures my breath.

Jazz pulses hazily through the air, and candles flicker, high and low, like in some kind of vintage New York City wedding spread. The place is fit for a royal ball. The impulse to paint the vivid party-scape before me pulses through my fingers, so I take a mental snapshot to tuck away for later.

For the moment, I need to keep my wits about me and figure out some way out of this place.

From my vantage point, I scan the room.

No sign of my monstrous cousin. Thank God.

I stick to the shadows, avoiding the auction floor at all costs. Definitely won’t be able to escape if I’m passed out from a panic attack in the middle of the room.

Still, I can’t help but be awed by all the gilt and glamour. Since when does Leo put on events of this caliber? Before they carted him off to prison, he certainly never did.

This venue is exactly what I’d imagine the inside of a piece of amethyst might look like. Darkness, shadows, and purple crystals with white glints of light bouncing off them. Candelabras, gemstones in the walls, and sky-high ceilings.

Despite my rush, I can’t help but peek at the spectacle every few moments. In my mind, I sketch out the painting I’d make based on this moment, allowing the dazzle of the room to distract me for a couple more seconds.

A bout of masculine laughter jolts me from my vision, spiking a fresh surge of anxiety. I return to scanning the room for an exit. While openings mark the cavernous walls, not a single one of them has a neon green exit sign hanging overhead.

Maybe there is no exit for you , the most haunted, shut-down part of me taunts from the depths of my soul.

Shut up , I think back, taking a chance on a nearby hallway.

That’s what I get for finally reading the gothic novel I found tucked at the back of Mom’s bookshelf.

The hallway leads away from the auction floor, and the music grows fainter the farther I walk. I’m hopeful some kind of exit strategy will materialize, but instead, my fears come right to center stage.

The idea of being on my own scares me. But it’s not half as terrifying as what will happen to me if I’m discovered and forced to stay in this cruel world.

Living the life of an art slave for my own family has been difficult enough. I don’t want to do it for another vicious, violent mafia family.

I can’t. I won’t. I have to find a way to get the hell out of here.

“I’m glad you’re enjoying yourself.”

My feet freeze on a dime.

Merde.

It’s Leo. He’s nearby. I’d recognize that low, threatening voice anywhere.

Panic breaks open inside me, sirens wailing in my blood.

I cut left into the nearest hallway, horrified when the sound of his voice gets closer.

My stomach cramps. He’s going to catch me, then either sell me or kill me.

At this point, I’m not sure which option is worse.

I don’t know where to go or what to do, but I can’t just remain here like a sitting duck. Darting away, I glance over my shoulder to check on Leo…and crash directly into a hard body.