Then I heard about Lucas Ifer, the owner of The Celestial, along with a lot of other places in Vegas too, according to rumor. They called him the devil in hushed tones and made him sound like a dangerous mob boss, but it soon became apparent that not much happened in Vegas he didn’t know about. Plus he was known for making deals, and he was able to get you anything you wanted. For a price, of course.
By all accounts, Lucas Ifer was the King of Las Vegas. If the police couldn’t help me, and the people on the street couldn’t help me, I had to come to the castle. I just hadn’t expected the castle to be in the sky. Now I was trapped in this tower like Rapunzel, except my hair was definitely not long enough to get me down.
I sat on the edge of the bed, my heart pounding. I was basically being held captive as a sex slave for a mob boss, and there was no telling if he was going to find Brandy. Or if she was even alive.
No, I had to stop thinking that way. I believed Lucas would honor our deal as long as I did. I felt it in my gut, and my gut was never wrong. Even if my gut also told me that he was the most dangerous man I’d ever met.
I leaned back and ran my hands along the smooth, soft duvet cover and blankets. This guest room was huge and luxurious, but it was sparse too, and I got the feeling it wasn’t used very often. I debated ordering room service, but my stomach was too twisted up in knots to eat anything. Still, if I had to stay somewhere for seven nights, I would be hard-pressed to find a hotel room nicer than this one.
Damn it. Seven nights away from home and from my shop. I sincerely hoped Maggie was able to keep an eye on the place that long. She was in her late sixties, and I worried running the whole thing might be a hardship for her. I’d had to agree that she could say cash or check only, which was going to suck. Most people preferred credit, but Maggie was hopeless with the card machine. I grimaced at the thought of returning to a business that had collapsed under the weight of going old-school. The place wasn’t doing all that well before I’d left, and I owed it to my parents to keep it afloat.
Taking out my phone, I dialed her quickly. No answer. It was almost five, and she was probably closing up the shop. I sent a text instead. At least she was pretty good with texting.
I’m delayed in Vegas. Please do your best at the shop. Will be gone 7 more days.
I'd deal with the fallout when she replied. As I waited, I considered texting my sister too, but Jo was an enormous worrywart. She tended to be overbearing, and I didn't need that on top of everything else. If it had been up to Jo, I never would've left Vista. If I told her about what I'd agreed to now, she’d completely fly off the handle.
Maggie’s reply reassured me. I’m fine. Take your time. Win lots of money.
She ended it with a bunch of money bag emojis. I shook my head, wondering if she was unclear on why I was here, or just perpetually optimistic. I took a few moments to call Donna, but she didn’t answer either. Probably making Jack something to eat. I sighed and left her a message telling her I was doing everything I could to find Brandy, but I would be here for another week. I apologized profusely for being away so long, and my throat tightened with emotion as I hung up.
With all my bases covered, there was nothing else to do but wait, which I wasn’t very good at. If nothing else, I could explore my new surroundings. Surely that was allowed.
I got up and opened all the drawers in the room but they were empty. I stepped inside the giant walk-in closet and twirled around, but it was bare except for a few hangers. I moved into the massive bathroom next, my eyes going wide at the sight of all that marble and the huge shower and even bigger soaker tub. I’d never been in a bathroom this fancy before. Or this big. I was tempted to take a bath and try to wash away my worries, but I was curious about the rest of this place. If this was to be my home for the next week, I should get familiar with it, shouldn’t I?
I opened the bedroom door wide enough to peer out into the hallway, but didn’t hear a thing. Lucas was gone, off to investigate Brandy’s disappearance, or so I hoped. I walked back out across the marble floors into the living room, gazing across the black and silver space that exuded power, danger, and luxury. The place could really use a few flowers or ferns to give it some life and color. Maybe some succulents even. Something to make the space feel less cold and dead.
Then I realized I wasn’t alone after all.
A gorgeous Black woman stood in front of the entrance to the penthouse. Leather crisscrossed her body like some sort of armor, and her dark hair was scraped back so tight it drew her skin taut over the most wicked cheekbones I'd ever seen. The hilt of a blade peeked above her left shoulder. Something about her tickled my instincts, but not like the familiarity I felt around Lucas.
“I’m Zel,” she said, like she didn’t care if I remembered or not.
“Is that short for something?” I asked.
“Azazel.”
I could see why she went with Zel. “I’m Hannah.”
“I know. Lucas ordered me to protect you.”
“Protect me or prevent me from leaving?” I asked, raising an eyebrow. I had no doubt she could snap me in half with a lazy bend of her pinky finger, and she didn’t sound pleased about her new job as my bodyguard.
Her dark eyes surveyed me with something like disdain. “If you leave the penthouse you need an escort at all times.”
“Why?” I tilted my head with a frown. “Is Lucas worried I’ll run away?”
“Lucas protects what is his.”
And that included me now, I realized with a shiver. “What if I leave the city?”
She pinned me with a threatening gaze. “You won’t.”
I truly was a captive. I had the illusion of freedom, but Lucas had made sure if I went anywhere, his bodyguard-slash-spy would keep tabs on me at all times and make sure I didn’t run away.
Zel didn’t seem inclined to chat, so I continued through the living room and around a corner, discovering a small, well-appointed kitchen on the other side of the bar, along with a dark dining table that seated six. I couldn’t imagine Lucas doing much cooking, although this kitchen seemed like a chef’s dream come true. I didn’t recognize the brand names of any of the appliances, which made me think they were ridiculously high-end. I opened up the stainless steel fridge out of curiosity, and was surprised to find some food inside, including an impressive selection of fancy-looking cheese. I spotted foods with labels in foreign languages, and I examined tins and jars containing things I'd never even heard of. To my relief, I spotted a container of Heinz ketchup in the door. Something I recognized. Something that proved Lucas wasn’t all pomp and circumstance.
I shut the fridge door and headed down another hallway, with the distinct sense I was going down the rabbit hole and through the mirror. Nothing in this penthouse felt at all real. Everything was spotless, like dust didn’t even dare to exist within these walls, and I’d never witnessed such luxury or wealth so prominently and unashamedly on display. I was hesitant to touch anything, for fear of breaking something. I didn’t need to add to my tab with Lucas.
At the end of this hall, I found a big set of double doors like the ones that led out of the penthouse to the elevator. I tried the handle, but each one was locked. Certainty flowed through me that these doors led to Lucas’s private chambers. I rested my hand on the smooth wood and felt an intense craving to know what was on the other side, along with a whisper of something that felt a lot like desire. I shook off the feeling and turned around.