Page 50 of My Ghost

“There we are,” she says smoothly, pressing a discreet button under the desk.With a soft hiss, the heavy security door at the back swishes open, revealing a darkened hallway lit with a faint, moody glow.

Underworld, here I come.

I step inside, not really knowing what to expect.And at first glance, it all looks…pretty tame.Elegant, even.The space opens into a vast lounge with an expansive bar as its centerpiece.The polished surface glows under the soft amber lights.Clusters of people sit on tall stools and in plush booths, their low voices blending with the slow, sultry rhythm spilling from hidden speakers.The lighting is dim and cozy, casting everything in warm shadows that feel both inviting and secretive.It’s the kind of lounge bar where someone can come just to unwind with an expensive cocktail, or to sink into something much darker.

My gaze drifts to the far end of the room, where a stage commands attention.Half a dozen figures are moving there, dancing, though I’m not sure that is the right word.Their bodies writhe and twist with a liquid, hypnotic flow, every movement languid and suggestive without crossing into anything overtly sexual.It is sensual in a way that makes my pulse pick up, and I feel heat creep up my neck despite myself.

I square my shoulders and head toward the bar, forcing my focus back on why I’m here.This might be the best place to start.I have no idea how I will unmask the villain, but I’ll just keep my eyes open for any suspicious behavior.

“Good evening, what may I get you?”the barman greets me.

“Hi, can I have a margarita, please?”I say, opting for the comfort of something familiar as I slide onto the stool.

He returns a minute later, setting a beautifully cut glass in front of me.But then he also places a sleek black box on the bar and slides it my way.I glance up, puzzled.

“Your bracelet,” he explains patiently.“It’s chipped.Simply scan it here and your tab will be automatically added to your account.”

Oh…that’s genius.My admiration for Matteo hikes up another notch.Nope, Erin, don’t think about him!

I lift my wrist, but before I can sweep it over the device, a hand appears in my line of sight and waves a large red ring over the scanner.The device blinks green.

“Let me take care of that drink,” a smooth, low voice says beside me.

I blink and look up, startled.A man is standing a few inches away, close enough that his hip nearly brushes mine.He is dressed in a perfectly tailored black suit and open white shirt, no tie.He looks to be around mid-thirties, and he is unfairly handsome, his presence radiating money and confidence.

I realize I’m staring because he chuckles, extending a hand.“Arthur.”

“Um…” My brain freezes for a second.“Am I supposed to give my real name?”I cringe as the words leave my mouth.Arthur throws his head back with a laugh that draws a glance or two from nearby patrons.When he recovers, there’s still amusement glittering in his eyes as he takes the stool next to mine.

“Sweetheart, you can give any name you want.The one that’ll matter is the one I’ll give you.”He winks, and suddenly my face feels too hot.

I duck my head, flustered, and murmur, “Uh…Rin.Thanks for the drink.”

Arthur studies me for a beat, eyes sharp despite his easy smile.“Don’t tell me you’re a virgin?”

I nearly choke on my drink.“Wh-what?No, I—”

“Relax,” he drawls, gesturing toward the club with a lazy wave.“I meant here.First time?”

“Oh.”I wince.“Is it that obvious?”

Something dark flickers in his gaze, gone as quickly as it came.“A little.But don’t be nervous, sweetheart.”He aims his panty-dropping smile at me, but all it does is give me the chills.

The mission, I need to get to work.

The plan had been simple.Sneak in, spot the meanest-looking guy, commit his face to memory for cross-check with the client list, slip out.Easy-peasy.

This is a complication I have not planned for.I guzzle down half of my glass and set it back on the bar.

“Well, Arthur, it was nice meeting you.I have to get going now.Thanks again for the drink.”I slide down from the stool, prepared to sidestep him and go looking for suspicious-looking criminals, when his hard hand clamps around my wrist.

“Where do you think you’re going, sweetheart?”Arthur hisses into my ear, his breath hot and sour.He slides off his stool to stand, towering over me like a mountain.

I gape up at him in shock, suddenly feeling small and vulnerable without the height of the stool.“I told you, I need to go.Let go of me,” I declare in a tone I hope sounds firm and not afraid.

“I don’t think so,Rin,” he sneers down at me, hand still clasped around my wrist like a vise.“You are mine for tonight.And judging from this”— he holds up my wrist, showing me the bracelet—“you are giving yourself fully over to me.”

“What?No!”I cry out.“There’s a misunderstanding, I’ve never—”