Chapter 8

Charisse's phone suddenly rang. She glanced at the caller ID, paused for a beat, then stepped out of the hall to pick it up. "Owen." "Charisse, where are you right now?" "Midnight Bloom." "With who?" Standing by the window, Charisse looked out at the pitch-black sky. "Owen, can you not pretend you don't know?" Someone at the party who knew both of them must've tipped Owen off. That's the only reason he would've called. "So it's really Clayton?" Owen's voice cracked with disbelief. "You're into *him*?" She'd already used this as her excuse when they broke up, so now she had to stick with it. "Yeah." "No way. Do you even know who he is? What he does? He's over fifty!" "I know." Her voice came out almost numb, detached. "He might be older, but he's got charm, money, and power. Being with him? It's a serious upgrade." Not far from her, on the other side of a wall, there was a barely-seeable hidden door that led into a narrow corridor. A small group approached from the other end. The guy up front reached for the door, but Elliot gave him a sharp glance and he stopped instantly. "Leave," Elliot said quietly. Without asking questions, they nodded and turned back the way they came. Elliot leaned against the wall and lit up a cigarette. Between the hidden door and the wall, there was a paper-thin gap—just wide enough for a voice to travel through. Through it came Charisse's cool, overly cheerful tone. "Of course I'm with him because I like him. He's everything you weren't, he's successful, he commands respect, and hello—he's loaded big time." "He's over fifty, but he knows how to treat a woman. Not at all like what people say about him. " On the other end, Owen sounded like he'd just gotten hit by a truck. "And me? What am I to you?" "You?" Charisse laughed, voice laced with mockery. "Do you even realize who he is in Draycott? And look at you—what do you have? Without your family's money, you're nobody. You think you can compete with him?" "But do you get what being with him really means?" Owen shot back. "You're gonna have a rough ride. Do you even know the kind of people he surrounds himself with?""If I like him, I don't care what gets thrown at me. No matter how many people try to make things hard, I'd still choose to be with him." "Charisse, is Clayton forcing you? Just tell me, I'll go find him right now! Don't worry, I've got your back!" These were the exact words Charisse feared hearing most from Owen. "No, he didn't force me. I made the choice myself. Owen, seriously, get a grip. You're nowhere near his level. If you're smart, you'll stop reaching out to me. Don't ruin my chances with someone better." Charisse almost couldn't believe those cold, hard words had come out of her mouth—especially directed at someone like Owen, who'd treated her so well. But there was no other way. On the other end, Owen's voice got lower and shakier till it cracked completely. Charisse felt a deep ache in her chest. She didn't want to be cruel. But if she didn't draw the line sharply, Owen would just keep clinging on, maybe even do something reckless. If he crossed Clayton... that would be a disaster. Her eyes suddenly caught something downstairs—a group of men forcing others into vehicles. The ones being shoved were clearly resisting, but then one got struck hard on the leg with an iron bar. His leg twisted in a way that just wasn't natural. He collapsed instantly, thrown into the car like he was trash. Behind them, a few others tossed in two black body bags before several cars revved up and sped off. Charisse froze. Cold sweat covered her. Those were Clayton's men. One of them was the same guy who'd picked her up at the hotel earlier. She clenched her jaw, voice icier than before. "Since we're already over, don't bother me again. My fiancé won't appreciate it." Click. She ended the call. Gripping the windowsill, Charisse took a few deep breaths, trying to erase that gruesome scene from her mind. As she turned around, a sudden figure behind her made her flinch. A cigarette ember glowed faintly at Elliot's fingertips as he stared at her with unreadable intensity. "Charisse," he called out just as she passed by. "Is your love really that easy to hand out now?" His tone was sharp. "So as long as it's a guy, you're ready to fall?" "Oh, look who's got a thing for eavesdropping now." "Didn't expect to hear something that pathetic," he scoffed. "Same old trick, huh? Using what you pulled on me to reel in someone else? Do you really think men are that easy to fool?"