Chapter Forty-Four

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"I'm not trying to be your friend." Taisley giggles, but her sapphire eyes are void of humor. Her porcelain face is set in a venomous death stare that sends a shiver down my spine. "Get in the car, bitch."

"Yeah, right."

"Do you want to see that drunk old grandma of yours again?"

Tears sting my eyes. Margo did nothing wrong. Why did they drag her into this?

"We're doing it to protect the people we love. Our secrets are like time bombs. Anyone who knows them is bound to get blown to bits one day."

"Get in the car," Taisley says again. "Now."

I walk around to the passenger side. I almost buckle my seatbelt but then change my mind. Whatever awaits is likely more perilous than an automobile accident.

"Where the hell is she?" I demand.

Taisley flashes a maniacal grin and puts the car in drive. "Oh, you'll see."

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I thought I'd be awestruck. All the glamour and secrecy surrounding this room has never ceased to pique my interest from the moment Mr. Bishop hired me last June.

However, standing here now, I'm unimpressed.

The mystifying VIP room is actually a small chamber with dark red walls, a black shag carpet, and various BDSM toys lying around. It's a sex dungeon, nothing more.

Considering the nature of this room, I'm afraid to sit down, but my aching feet make it hard to stand. Taisley locked me in here, promising to return soon. She didn't tie me up or chain me to the wall, but she did warn me that trying to escape would be pointless. The door is made of solid steel, so there's no way my one-hundred-pound body could break it down.

As I contemplate my break-out, the door is pushed open. Mr. Bishop enters, my unconscious grandmother in his arms.

"Margo!" I exclaim.

"She's alright. It's just a sleep spell, nothing too dangerous." Bradley lays her down on a leather sofa and then turns to me. "You know, Layla, I liked you. I trusted you. When I found out you stole from me, it hurt. I felt betrayed."

I stifle a laugh. He abducted both me and my seventy-year-old grandmother and wants to lecture me about betrayal?

"I might be able to forgive you," he continues, showcasing a toothy smile, "if you return what you took."

"No offense, Mr. Bishop, but we're past the point of forgiveness. I'll settle for some answers instead."

"Alright." He takes a seat on the couch perpendicular to the one Margo is lying on. "What would you like to know?"

That's a loaded question. There is so much I want to know, so many things I'm curious about. I don't know where to begin.

"Let's start with who you are," I finally say. "Is your real name Anson?"

"Actually, my real name is Cassius. Anson, like Bradley, was one of my many aliases," he replies nonchalantly.

"How old are you?"

"Two-hundred, give or take a decade."

My eyes widen. "You've been alive for two centuries?"

He shrugs his shoulders. "It's not as glamorous as it might seem."

"Are you... are you a vampire?" I ask.

"What? A vampire? Are you crazy?" He lets out a boisterous laugh, tilting his head back and placing his hand over his chest. "Don't be silly. Vampires were eradicated in the early twentieth century. I'm a warlock."

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