Chapter Seven

Amelia's POV

"It's no use, Miss Domitia. They won't do anything."

Those words wouldn't leave my head as I walked down the streets of the city, pulling my hood down to hide my face better.

Of course I had snuck out of the Domitia mansion. Staying in that madhouse for even a second longer would have driven me insane. I needed to find somewhere quiet and secluded where I could call Isabella without being overheard.

I needed explanations now more than ever.

According to Daisy, Jeremy was my weird foster brother. He was always cooped up in his room, he had no friends, and he hardly ever stepped out of the house. Also, his favorite hobby seemed to be bugging my room and spying on everything I said.

That's some messed up stuff.

From the sound of things, that dude shouldn't be at the Domitia mansion. He should be at a facility for the mentally ill.

Daisy had also told me about how Isabella repeatedly reported the spying to her parents, but they refused to do anything about it. Talk about lousy. No wonder she ran away from home.

Though of course, none of that justified how she sent me here without any warning. Likely because she knew that I would have never agreed to her deal if I had known what she was getting me into.

Finding a place to make the call was proving difficult. Even though the sky was dark, the streets were still very much alive.

Music was blaring from several clubs, and there were people everywhere I looked.

Night time was never this bright where I used to live, and the new experience was quite exciting.

It was only after walking for nearly an hour that I came across an empty phone booth. I stepped in, ducking behind a wall as I pulled out my phone. Quickly, I dialed Isabella's number. Only for it to go straight to voicemail.

"No, no, no," I muttered. "This can't be happening. Somebody tell me this isn't happening."

I called over and over, only to get the same result each time.

"Come on, Isabella, pick up!" I yelled at the phone.

It was pointless. For whatever reason, my calls weren't going through. If I was frustrated before, now I wanted to set something on fire. I stormed out of the phone booth, knowing that I couldn't go back to the Domitia mansion like this.

I needed to cool off, to get rid of this blazing anger swirling around inside me.

"This isn't fair," I muttered, letting my legs carry me forward even though I had no idea where to go or what to do. "None of this is fair."

I ended up walking into a bar, impatiently wiping frustrated tears from my eyes. I made straight for the counter, carefully skirting around the rowdy group of young men talking and laughing loudly over their mugs of cider. But despite my efforts not to get noticed, I could still feel more than one pair of eyes on me as I sat on a tall stool across from the barman.

"One beer," I said.

He gave me a polite smile as he poured the drink into a glass and handed it to me.

It was cool, just how I liked it, and I almost couldn't resist pressing it to my forehead.

All the unpleasant surprises were giving me a serious headache. And to think I had just arrived at the Domitia mansion today.

It already felt like I had been there for years. Several miserable years.

I took a gulp of my beer, feeling it burn its way down my throat. The familiar sensation was comforting. I continued drinking, willing the alcohol to push all my problems out of my mind.

"Hey there, pretty," some guy said, taking the seat beside me.

I recognized him as one of the loud men who had been watching me earlier. He was clearly here to hit on me.

I wasn't in the mood, so I ignored him and focused on my drink.

"Want me to pay for that?" he asked with a leering smile, gesturing to the glass in my hand. "Or I could buy you another one. A colder drink, to make you a little more chill."

He laughed at that, and I really couldn't see what was funny. I kept on ignoring him, even as he went ahead to order two drinks. He pushed one to me.

"For you, lovely," he said. "No need to thank me."

At that point, I knew I had to say something. Otherwise he might do something stupid, like interpret my silence to mean that I was into him.

"No, thanks," I said.

"No need to thank me, remember?" he said, but he was no longer smiling.

I rolled my eyes. Typical insecure man.

"Go find someone else to bother, asshole," I retorted.

I had just lifted my glass to my lips, about to take another sip, when I felt a hand on my backside. Without wasting any time, I turned around and threw the contents of my glass into the face of the man behind me. He startled backwards with a curse, one hand over his face as the drink dripped onto his designer jacket.

One look at that face, and I felt like startling backwards too. I had seen handsome men before, but this… this was a god. With the raven black hair slicked back with obviously expensive hair products, sexy dark eyes, flawless tanned skin and a muscular body outlined by the black jacket, he looked like he had just stepped out of an A-list fashion magazine.

But I wasn't going to let that affect me. He could look like the god Apollo if he wanted. It didn't change the fact that he was a shameless pervert. I placed my hands on my hips, lifting my chin in a challenging gesture. I met his glare with one of my own.

"How dare you?" he growled.