30. Luna

30

"Hey, boy. You're not supposed to be on the bed."

Rocky ignored me—probably because he didn't speak English, only dog—and carried on licking my face. I tried to push him away, giggling, but a voice made me freeze.

"Thank the stars you're awake."

The voice was female, but why was the woman in my hotel room? Was she a housekeeper? They had a habit of just knocking and then walking in. I forced open heavy eyelids and then gasped in horror.

"Welcome to hell."

The woman standing over me was a pretty brunette with a pale white complexion that had gone a little blotchy and bloodshot blue eyes. The skin around them was puffy, as if she'd been crying. Rocky whisper-yipped at her.

"Is your dog friendly?"

"Uh, yes?"

Another face swam into view, this one with smooth warm-brown skin and pursed lips. The newcomer's hair had most likely been neatly braided a few weeks ago, but now it was going fuzzy around the edges. Both women wore plain white dresses and beaded necklaces, and for some reason, they looked vaguely familiar, although I couldn't recall ever speaking with them. But my mind was hazy. Every memory was a stretch. What had happened to me? How did I get here? Where were we?

I looked past the strangers, past the high stone columns to the wall beyond and saw it was painted with hieroglyphs. A wave of relief washed through me. I was still at the Nile Palace, but this wasn't my suite.

"Who are you?"

"I'm Michelle, and she's Kacie," the woman with the braids said. "Are you that singer? The one who went skinny-dipping with fifty men in the Caribbean?"

"I didn't go skinny-dipping. I fell off a yacht, and they jumped in to save me."

"Sure you did."

"Can we discuss the bigger problem?" Kacie hissed. "Like how we're going to get out of this place?"

"Where are we, anyway? Do you work for Frank?"

"Who's Frank?"

"Frank Serafini. He owns this place."

"You know where we are?"

"At the Nile Palace."

Michelle laughed and shook her head. "Oh, honey. We're not in Vegas anymore."

What? "But I have a show tonight."

I pushed myself upright, and that was when I saw the chains padlocked around their waists. Felt the cold metal snaking around my own and experienced the crushing terror of knowing the worst had happened. That was when I screamed.

"Damn, girl. You got a pair of lungs on you."

Heck, now I'd scared Rocky. He'd run to the corner of the room. A sob welled up in my throat as I tried to get my fear under control.

"H-h-hey, boy. I'm so s-s-sorry. It's okay."

I tried to get up and walk to him, but sudden dizziness nixed that idea and I fell back onto the bed. The bed. Why was there a bed here? A four-poster bed with embroidered drapes hanging at the sides? A bed fit for a queen.

A queen.

Oh, fuck.

Oh fuck oh fuck oh fuck.

I took in the rest of the room. The only windows were high up and too small to wriggle through, although someone had painted murals on the side walls in an attempt at a view. Desert to the left, a river with sailboats to the right. Fake vines hung down in one corner. There were nightstands holding ornate urns on either side of the bed, and a potted palm to my right that might have been real.

It was a prison.

A fancy prison.

A fancy fake Egyptian prison.

Kacie… Michelle…. Those names were vaguely familiar, but I couldn't…I couldn't quite think where I'd heard them. Memories skittered out of reach when I tried to focus.

"What's through there?" I asked, nodding toward two doorways in the opposite wall, the one with the hieroglyphics.

"The bathroom—or as he calls it, the bathing chamber—the living room, and our bedroom."

"Sleeping chamber," Kacie corrected.

"Whatever. The man's on crack."

"What man?" Terror pooled in my belly because I already knew the answer. How had he gotten to me? How had he taken me out of the hotel? The last thing I remembered was eating breakfast with Rocky. We'd shared croissants, not the chocolate ones because those were bad for dogs, and then I felt weirdly tired, so I'd gone to lie down for a minute or two. Probably because I'd been awake half the night worrying about Ryder and whatever he was?—

Ryder.

Had anyone even noticed I was missing? Because he was gonna lose his mind when he found out.

"His name is Mark," Kacie offered. "He said you're his wife?"

"No, no, no. No way."

Michelle shook her head. "You got that wrong. He said she was his wife. The freak thinks he's Mark Antony and she's Queen Cleopatra."

"He's been writing me notes. Sending me dinner every night and leaving gifts. I think…I think he kidnapped me from my hotel suite."

"You didn't lock the damn door?"

"No, I did. I always do. And there was security at the end of the hallway, but…but… I don't know what happened. My boyfriend took a trip, so I was on my own." My head was so fuzzy. "Why are you here? I mean, does he think you've also been recar…rinate…reborn?"

"Hell no. We're meant to serve you. And I'll tell you now, I ain't being no slave. They abolished that shit two damn centuries ago."

"I don't want servants. We need to get out of here."

"Good luck. The chains are attached to the wall."

I studied the chain and the padlock. I'd seen rappers wearing chunkier jewellery, but there was still no way I could break free. Not without bolt cutters. Panic clawed its way up my throat, but I forced myself to stay calm. I was alive and uninjured. So were Kacie and Michelle. Mark Antony had gone to some effort with this setup, and if he thought I was his wife, he wouldn't kill me. Not unless I upset him, anyway. I just had to bide my time. When Ryder got back, he'd look for me, and I'd seen firsthand the effort Blackwood put into a rescue operation. They'd leave no stone unturned.

But…but Mark Antony thought I was his wife. What if he expected me to…to… Oh hell. I looked around at the king-sized bed I was lying on, and nausea overwhelmed me. I rolled to the side and retched.

"Yeuch!" Michelle jumped sideways as vomit splashed onto the floor. "I'm not cleaning that up."

"Where is he? Where's Mark Antony?"

"How should I know?"

"He comes and goes," Kacie explained. "Every few days, he's been bringing more food, but he said that he'd be able to spend more time here after you arrived."

"He told you he was going to snatch me?"

She nodded miserably. "And we couldn't do a thing about it."

"Your bodyguard kept getting in the way," Michelle told me. "That's why it took so long, but then you moved to a different hotel or something, and he said that made things easier."

Because Ryder was gone.

Whoever Mark Antony was, he must have been watching us so, so closely, although I still didn't know how he'd gotten me out of my suite. Frank had promised no male staff, and he'd kept his word. Mark A had to be a reporter, didn't he? That was what Ryder thought. One of those pesky paparazzi must have braved Romeo's wrath and come back to the Nile Palace.

"Do you know where we are? Are we still in Nevada?"

Michelle rolled her eyes. "How should I know? Do I look tall enough to see out of those windows?"

No, she didn't; they were at least ten feet above us. But if I stood on her shoulders…

"Can you lift me up?"

"Which part of ‘I ain't being no slave' did you not get?"

"Which part of ‘we need to get out of here' did you not get? If I stand on your shoulders, then I might be able to see where we are."

"Why don't I stand on your shoulders?"

"Because you're twice my size?"

"Are you callin' me fat?"

Kacie stepped between us, her chain jingling across the floor. "Michelle, Cleopatra's right. You're much stronger, and she's only five feet tall."

"It's Luna, and I'm five feet one, actually."

Michelle huffed. "Okay, fine."

She crouched a bit, and Kacie helped me to scramble up onto her shoulders. I took a few deep breaths. My mind was still fuzzy, and perhaps this hadn't been the best idea after all? The window was still three inches above my head, so I grabbed the bars and hauled myself up.

"Can you see anything?" Kacie asked.

"Trees. Just trees. Miles and miles of trees. I think we're on a hill."

"Are there any people?"

"No signs of civilisation whatsoever."

I wobbled and nearly fell off Michelle's shoulders, but Kacie caught me and helped me down.

"Guess that explains why nobody came when we yelled," she said, slumping to the floor. "This is my worst nightmare. I mean, I've been here for more than three weeks, and my boss is gonna fire me for sure."

Michelle rolled her eyes again. She'd detach her freaking retinas if she kept doing that. "Who cares about being fired? I'm more worried about not dying."

"Well, if we ever get out of here, I care about not being evicted. We don't all have savings."

"You think I have savings? I'm a nursing assistant. We get paid peanuts."

"Can we just stop fighting?" I asked. "I have five thousand people waiting to hear me sing tonight, so I'm in trouble too." At least, I was assuming it was tonight. How long had I been unconscious? "Do either of you know what day it is?"

"Saturday," Michelle said.

"How about the time? Is there a clock anywhere?"

"Through there," Kacie said, motioning with her head toward the next room. "Plus Mark sometimes mentions the day, and then we count the number of nights."

"What's he like? Mark?"

If Ryder were here, he'd be telling me to ferret out every piece of information I could. Knowledge is power. In San Gallicano, it had been the smallest of clues that led Blackwood to the villain's lair on a neighbouring island. Half a year ago, I would have been hyperventilating at this predicament, but my time in the Caribbean had made me more resilient. Men had tried to kill me—twice—and I'd survived. Was Mark Antony a cold-blooded murderer? I didn't think so. Ryder had told me there were two possibilities—either he was cruel and toying with me, or he was unwell and genuinely thought he was Mark Antony. All the clues so far pointed toward the second option.

But I knew what he'd expect from me. What a husband expected from a wife. In this twisted game, Kacie and Michelle were meant to serve me, and I was expected to serve him. That was the thought that scared me more than anything, and I wasn't even physically capable of having sex. How would he react when he found out? Would he be angry?

I feared I knew the answer.

But I also knew something else. Ryder would come for me. Beyond a shadow of a doubt, he'd come for me, and I just needed to hold out until he got here.

"Mark's batshit crazy," Michelle told me. "The man thinks he's an Egyptian general."

"Roman."

"Huh?"

"Mark Antony was a Roman general."

"Whatever. You're as bad as him."

"Excuse me?"

"She wasn't the one who kidnapped us and left us in the middle of a forest," Kacie pointed out.

"But if she wasn't here, neither would we be."

"Don't blame the victim."

I was about to point out that maybe some of the blame fell on the lack of mental healthcare availability when I saw Rocky backing away with his tail between his legs.

"Can we please stop fighting? You're scaring my dog."

I fell to my knees beside him, and yeuch, that vomit really stank. Why was Rocky even here? To use as some kind of sick bargaining chip? And more to the point, how had he gotten here? Why hadn't he barked in that funny way of his when a man came to abduct me?

"Sorry," Kacie muttered, but Michelle just glared. Fine, I didn't much like her either. I hadn't freaking asked to be kidnapped.

"He needs water. Is there any water?"

"There's a faucet in the bathroom."

"What about food?"

"There's a kitchen area off the living room."

"Dog food?"

She shrugged. "I didn't see any of that."

Which made me wonder again why he'd brought Rocky. Mark Antony had obviously been preparing to snatch me for months—he'd built a whole freaking temple—but he hadn't provided kibble?

None of this made any sense.

"Who cares about dog food?" Michelle huffed. "I don't get how you can stay so calm."

Six months ago, I'd have been freaking out right alongside her, but that was before I met Ryder. He'd taught me that I was stronger than I ever realised.

"Because the last two times someone tried to kill me, I held my nerve and fought back, and that's what I'm going to do again."

"You think you're gonna fight him? The man's a giant."

"A giant?"

"Over six feet tall, and real strong," Kacie explained.

Well, crap.

"Okay, fine. Then I'm going to play his game until my boyfriend rescues us."

That earned me a snort from Michelle. "Oh, sure, your boyfriend's just gonna ride to the rescue like some white knight."

"Yes, he is."

"The whack-a-doodle who kidnapped us is in la-la land, and so are you."

Kacie didn't seem convinced either. "If the police haven't found us, I doubt anyone else will."

"Girl, you think the police are even looking for us? They might get off their heinies for Miss Rich-and-Famous here, but they ain't lookin' for a poor-ass waitress and a nursing assistant."

Why did Michelle always have to be so negative? Okay, so things weren't looking great right now, but I had a new life waiting for me. No way was I going to spend the rest of my days in a fancy barn.

"I'm, like, eighty percent sure I saw your pictures on the news. Michelle disappeared after a night out at the Peppermill?"

"I thought he was my Uber driver. I fell asleep in the back seat and woke up here."

Kacie mimed drinking from a bottle and did little finger quotes. "Fell asleep."

"It was my friend's birthday," Michelle snapped. "Is having a good time illegal?"

"How did he take you?" I asked Kacie before they got into a fistfight.

"Some sleaze tried to follow me out of the parking lot at work, and Mark offered me a ride home. He'd been in the bar earlier, and we'd chatted for a while, and he honestly seemed like a nice guy. Plus he was a good tipper. We stopped at the gas station on the way, and he bought me a slushie. I think he put something in it. You really saw us on TV?"

"Yes, on a local station. All we need to do is play along until we're rescued."

I was Cleopatra, the original founder of the girl power movement. She'd married not one but two Roman generals and gotten the better of both of them. She wasn't a warrior, but she'd still managed to gain control of basically the whole of the Middle East by using her brain and her feminine charms.

I only had to temporarily gain control of one man.

"Are you sure we'll be rescued?" Kacie asked.

Ryder would come. He would. He just had to work out which photographer was missing from the horde, find out where he lived, and sneak in with Knox or someone else who knew how to shoot a gun.

"Yes, I'm certain."