Page 12 of Vicious Seduction

Me: What’s a waste?

Unknown: Every minute you spend with him.

There it was. Warmth spread from my chest down to my belly and onward. He was wrong about my time being wasted, but I liked knowing it bothered him.

Me: Jealous much?

A tiny smile perched at the corners of my lips.

Unknown: It’s hard to be jealous of something that’s already mine.

That got an audible laugh.

Me: I was wrong.

Me: You’re not jealous. You’re arrogant.

I practically salivated for his response like a junkie anticipating her next hit. This man was so damn dangerous for me, but I couldn’t stop myself. Truth be told, I didn’t want to.

I waited a solid minute, staring at my phone screen for his reply.

Unknown: I’m right.

I started to text a response, then deleted it, a hollow void expanding in my chest. What the hell was I doing? Engaging him was pointless. If anything was a waste of my time, it was texting Oran Byrne. I needed to get my head out of the clouds and stop letting myself get distracted.

Me: As if you’d be any different.

I wasn’t sure I believed it, but the despondency I felt was seeping through.

Unknown: Let me show you.

Exactly. It was pointless. I shook my head slowly and started to shut down the conversation when he sent another quick message.

Unknown: Look in your purse.

My heart teased its way up my chest and into my throat.

I glanced around, suddenly aware of the people on the train with me, feeling like they all surely heard my thundering pulse. After assuring myself no one was paying attention, I slid my hand into the moderately sized leather tote-style purse I’d been carrying lately. I wasn’t the sort to carry a ton of unnecessary items around, but being on the go in the city meant needing a good number of things on hand at any given time.

I jostled a few items before I saw a photo-sized piece of white cardstock paper that I didn’t recognize. When I pulled it out, I discovered that it was an invitation.

A cordial invitation to

The Bastion Club’s

5thAnnual December Masquerade

Beneath the listed address was a date. Tomorrow.

Unknown: Give me a chance, Lina. Come by tomorrow—I’ll be there all night.

I didn’t reply. My mind was too busy racing.

Olympus wasn’t the only club Oran belonged to. What sort of club was Bastion? The invitation looked formal, with elegant embossing on expensive cardstock. Maybe it was silly of me, but I was surprised I hadn’t heard of it.

Maybe it was just as secretive as Olympus.

Using printed invitations? That didn’t track. So … not secretive, but maybe still elite? Maybe that was why he’d joined Olympus, though—because it provided something other clubs didn’t.