Clubs: The Suit’s Book 2

Sunlight breaks through the floor-to-ceiling windows, blinding me as I walk down the steps. I stop when I see a note taped to the wall.

I have things to take care of. Dimitri is here to watch over you.

—Mikhail

Leave it to Mikhail to abandon me after a night like that.

He wanted me to let go for one night. But why would I give him that? He walks around with his head held high, constantly telling me what to do.

I can’t be with him more than I already am. I told him I couldn’t because I know I won’t be able to act as if nothing happened. The man I used to loathe is slowly creeping past the fine line between love and hate. It’s as if he’s making me choose between the two.

When it comes to Mikhail . . . I’ll gladly choose hate.

Through the glass that surrounds the main door, I see a bright yellow car with the word “Taxi” on the top. My hands cover my face as I hold in a laugh on the verge of hysterical.

I turn away from the door and stop when I see Dimitri passed out on the couch with his mouth open, snoring. His phone is slowly falling off his chest with each huff of air he takes. I could walk up to him, take the phone, and call Ruslan. Mikhail knows my family wants me back, but he wants them to sweat—I know it.

Being trapped in the arms of Mikhail isn’t the worst thing. I’m not treated poorly—at least not anymore—but I don’t like the idea of being stuck in here like a house cat. I want to have a life to live. I want to have priorities. I can’t just sit on the couch all day and wait for Mikhail to come home and tell me all about his productive day. I don’t want to rely on another person for my own stability, but he’s forcing me to do that. I don’t have the option to do much of anything while I’m here with him.

At least, that’s what he wants me to think.

I walk past Dimitri, trying my hardest to be as quiet as possible. I wave my hand in front of his face just to make sure he’s asleep. When I hear a large huff of air, my eyes widen, and I jump back. He’s definitely asleep. I slowly back my way to the door and question if what I’m doing will bite me in the ass later. It probably will, but there’s a loud voice screaming in the back of my mind, telling me to leave.

I’ll come back to Mikhail—I just want to explore. I want to sit in a car for hours and see the world. I love my family, I do, but if I go back to them, I’ll be on a lockdown worse than what I’m currently enduring.

On the table I see a wallet. I open it up to find Mikhail’s name plastered everywhere. Why would he leave without his wallet? Without complaining, I take his card, put on shoes, and open the door slowly. I’ll probably regret this, but I need to get out, even if it’s just for a little while.

Stockholm syndrome is no joke.

I walk out the house like I’ve done it a million times before. Seagulls fly above me in the open, blue sky, forcing a smile from me. The street is surrounded by gorgeous trees and bushes that have bright blue flowers growing on them.

Skipping across the street, I tap on the car window.

The man inside looks at me brightly and rolls the glass down.

“Hi!” I say, cheerful so I don’t draw attention, even though I’m most likely doing the opposite. “Could you give me a ride to the city?” I ask.

He nods.

My heart races as I get in the back of the car and look at the house.

This is such a mistake, but I feed off adrenaline. It’s something so simple, but this is the first time I’ve been out by myself.

Mikhail has shown me what it feels like to live on the edge. I don’t know how he managed to do that considering I’ve been held captive, but I won’t question it.

My feet tap on the floor as time flies and I stare at the passing cars that drive next to us. Everyone has places to be. They may have jobs they hate, but at last they have control of their lives. I envy that. I want to have a purpose, but that’s something I will never have.

Cars honk on repeat and the buildings grow taller the further we get into the city. So tall I can’t see the tops of them from my window. What would the view be like?

The driver pulls the car to the curb, and my mouth opens to say something. I just want to keep driving. I’m too nervous to get out and explore. How ironic.

The door on the other side of the car opens quickly.

A black German shepherd jumps in the middle of the back seat and sits facing the front of the car. I scoot back as fast as I can.

“Suigh síos!” a chirpy voice commands.

I bend over to look at the woman who just entered the car. Is this normal? I didn’t think strangers shared cabs.

“Hi!” she shouts, and I jump back. “I’m sorry, I didn’t know you were in here, otherwise I would have gotten a different cab.”

Her accent is strong. I think she’s Irish. Her bright red hair and freckled face give her away. She speaks an entire novel’s worth of words I don’t understand before looking at me as if expecting me to answer a question.

I’m mesmerized by her. She’s fucking tiny, probably five foot, her face perfectly rounded and her nose pointed upward slightly. Her lips are full—especially her bottom lip. It’s red as if she’s been picking at it with her teeth.

“I don’t mean to be rude, but I didn’t understand a thing you just said . . . and you said a lot, so that’s unfortunate.”

She throws her hair down and puts it in a high bun. It’s long and curly, just like mine. The woman looks me up and down and raises her eyebrows. “You Americans are always so blunt.”

“Russian, actually, but thanks.”

“Russian? I don’t hear that in your voice, but I’ll trust you’re being honest with me.”

I glare at her. I can’t tell whether she’s stuck-up or just very . . . I’m not sure, but I can tell she’s a lot. “What reason would I have to lie to you? Unless you’re a Russian spy.” I lean my head closer to her.

She laughs, the high-pitched giggle sending an instant warmth to my heart. “I like you already and I don’t even know your name,” she says as she places a hand on her dog.

“Sloane,” I introduce myself and reach out my hand. The dog watches it as if my hand’s a piece of meat it’s waiting to take a bite out of.

“He won’t bite unless I tell him to, don’t worry. My name is Rosalie, but please, for the love of whatever you believe in, call me Rose.”

“What’s wrong with Rosalie?” I ask, curious. It’s a beautiful name. I don’t see what her problem is.

“It makes me sound like one of those girls from high school who would bully you for wearing the same color as they did—you know what I mean? I don’t know, it just makes me sound like a girl I don’t really relate to. But Rose? Now, I can relate to her any day of the week.”

“Good God, okay, Rose, I get it.”

“Great! So, where are you off to? I’m sure the driver is growing impatient.” She looks in the rearview mirror, and the man rolls his eyes.

“Honestly, I’m not sure. I have a card with a lot of money on it though.”

She widens her bright blue eyes and grins. “Is your boyfriend rich? Oh, please tell me he is. You’re living the life. He’s probably out killing people right now while you spend his money and grow ignorant of the dark work he does. That’s what rich people do in this city, isn’t it?”

“Uh . . .” I begin, tongue-tied in utter shock.

“Oh my gosh, relax. I’m just kidding.” She beams at me.

Rose is enchanting, but she doesn’t know when to shut up.

“Where were you going?” I ask.

“To bury a body.”

I have a feeling her dark jokes are something I’ll have to get used to since I’m stuck in the cab with her. “Great. Me too.”

“Seriously?”

My mouth drops, and I am quick to shake my head. “No.”

“Mm-hmm. Okay, well, I need to go to the butchers to get food for my little guy. You want to come?”

Little guy? His paws are the size of my hands.

I shrug my shoulders. “Why not? I have nothing better to do.”

She hands her phone to the driver, and he nods his head, shifting the car into drive. Drivers behind us honk their horns, but I assume that’s normal because of how crazy the traffic is here.

“Do you like to shop?” she asks.

“Not really.” I look down at my outfit. I can’t help but compare myself to her. She’s dressed in what looks like an outfit worth half a million dollars while I’m wearing sweatpants and a tank top.

“I thought so. You look as if you just got out of bed.” She pulls on the dog until he’s lying on her legs, covering her entire lower body. “What do you plan to do with the money?” she asks.

“I was thinking about donating a lot of it.”

She smiles, her round cheeks forming dimples in the center. “I donate a lot too. Mainly to animal shelters.”

“I’d love to do that!” I tell her.

“Yeah? We can stop there before we go to the butchers!”

“Please.”

“Driver, let’s go to a shelter.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he mumbles.

Rose and I share jokes back and forth as if our lives depend on it. I’ve never had the opportunity to meet many people in my life, but something about Rose makes me want to open up to her completely. She’s funny, kind, maybe a little stuck-up, but that’s okay because she has to have at least one flaw. I can tell by the way she dresses that she spends money as if it’s just a number in her account. Her clothes look like they’ve been to the dry cleaners. Her heels are bright green, her toes painted white. Who dresses like this on their way to an animal shelter?

The car pulls up to a building that looks run-down, the brick walls close to crumbling. Rose gives the driver three hundred-dollar bills as if they’re pieces of notebook paper. She didn’t have to pay for my drive. I make a face and scratch my cheek as I get out the car. She calls her dog, and he zips through her legs with every step she takes. Some of her words I can’t understand, but I think they’re commands because he starts to walk in circles around her.

“Do you want a dog?” she asks with a grin I’ve already come to know far too well.

I scrunch my nose. “I would love one, but I can’t.”

She brings her well-manicured hand to my nose and taps on it. “That’s what you think. Just wait. Once a dog chooses you, you’ll never be able to leave it.”

I gulp, nervous that she’s right. Mikhail would literally kill me if he came home to a dog sitting on his couch. I’ve noticed he likes things to be completely spotless, not a single crumb in sight. When Lev touched me that night, he made me clean his touch off me. I don’t think that had much to do with him wanting to make me feel more comfortable; I think he just didn’t want another man to touch what he views as his.

And he might be right. I feel as if he is mine and I am his, but that’s a nightmare to untangle.

“Are you coming, Sloane?” Rose asks, opening the door.

I hurry up and rush after her, my ears instantly flooded with the barks and howls of beautiful animals locked in cages. Rose stops by the front desk and talks to a younger woman. She nods at whatever she says and then makes her way over to me.

“What kind of dog are you looking for?” the woman asks. Her hair is pin-straight and dark black, and her eyes are so dark they look as black as her hair.

“I’m not getting a dog, but I wouldn’t mind petting a few.”

Rose grabs onto my arm with excitement and pulls me to walk faster as the younger woman guides us in. We spend the next couple of hours lying in the playpen with a bunch of dogs, and my serotonin levels skyrocket.

“I think I get it,” I admit.

“I knew you would.” Rose sends a wink in my direction. “It’s the mama Golden Retriever, isn’t it?”

“How did you know?”

“She picked you. She forgot about her puppies the moment she saw you.”

I roll my eyes. “Her puppies aren’t even puppies anymore. That doesn’t mean anything.”

We stare at each other for a moment before bursting into laughter. At what I’m not exactly sure, but I can feel we’ve become fast friends.

“You should take her home.”

I frown. “I really can’t, much as I want to.”

Rose stands up and holds her hand out for me to grab onto. Lilly, the Golden Retriever, whines by my side when I get up. Her whines turn into sad howls as she realizes she can’t follow after me. Tears spring into my eyes.

Fuck, this hurts.

“At least put your name down for her. Go home, think about it,” Rose tells me, and I nod slowly.

I write my name down for Lilly and tell the woman I’d like to make a donation. She turns the screen to me, and I fill in the card information. Once finished, I type in the amount of the donation, accidently adding an extra zero, and press enter. My mouth drops when I realize I just donated one million dollars.

“Oh,” I say with an embarrassed smile. I feel my face redden, but I shake my head. It’s better that Mikhail’s money goes to a good cause instead of into the pockets of murderers. Plus, my best guess is most of it is fake anyway.

The woman behind the desk almost cries with happiness, and that’s when I decide to leave. I don’t want her thanking me for donating money that was never mine to begin with. I look around for Rose, but she’s nowhere.

“Rose?” I shout on the street, but I get nothing in return.

Rushing back inside, I ask the woman if she saw the girl who came in with me. “Red hair, really short, strong accent. You can’t forget her.”

“I’m sorry, I have no idea what you’re talking about, honey,” the woman tells me. “You came in here alone.”

What?

It’s as if Rose never existed. She vanished like a ghost, a figment of my imagination.

Suddenly, I’m overwhelmed by the creepy aura surrounding me.

Am I going crazy?