Don't Escape, My Contract Bride

Chapter 2 The Escape

Raine bolted out the door, her heart pounding.

On the other side stood Malcolm's men.

Taking advantage of their brief lapse, she sprinted down the opposite end of the hallway with everything she had.

'Don't get caught!'

That was the only thought running through her mind.

But the floor was swarming with Malcolm's guards. Spotting the stairwell, she pushed her way into the emergency exit and raced down the steps.

The lower level was Havenmoor's infamous luxury club, Lumina Heights.

The flashing lights were almost blinding, the air heavy with cigarette smoke and the cloying scent of alcohol. Throbbing music vibrated through the room, only barely masking the sound of lewd laughter and gasping whispers between men and women.

Raine stumbled into the chaos, immediately overwhelmed by the sights and sounds.

"Move it! Quit dragging your feet! The guests are waiting!" a sharp voice snapped nearby.

Raine turned and saw a man in a sharp suit, likely the manager, Paul, barking orders at a line of scantily clad women with heavy makeup."

Malcolm's men weren't far behind her. Desperation surged through her veins as she yanked her neckline lower, exposing just enough to blend in. Keeping her head down, she slipped to the back of the line and followed the women into a private suite.

"This is our newest batch of beauties," Paul said with an oily grin, bowing slightly. "Take a look, see if anyone catches your eye."

The room was dimly lit, and Raine couldn't make out the man seated in front of them. All she could see were his long legs, crossed casually, exuding a lazy dominance.

"Smile!" Paul hissed through clenched teeth.

Raine obeyed, tilting her head up with a bright, sugary smile. She scanned the room quickly, taking note of the other men, by the look of their tailored suits and bulky frames.

Her eyes darted toward the rest of the suite. It was large, likely with more than one exit. She had to find a way out, and fast.

"Her."

The low, magnetic voice cut through the room like a blade.

"That one," the man said.

Who?

Raine felt an icy chill creep down her spine as all eyes turned to her.

A bad feeling twisted in her gut.

She tried to keep her smile in place, though it wavered slightly, as she lifted her gaze toward the man who'd spoken.

He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. For the first time, she got a clear look at him.

His shirt was undoubtedly expensive, tailored to perfection, fitting his powerful frame like a second skin. A luxury watch glinted on his wrist, catching the light in a way that only emphasized the wealth and power he exuded.

But it was his face that truly caught her off guard.

Sharp, chiseled features that looked like they'd been sculpted by a god. His eyes, dark and fathomless, held a dangerous allure, as though they hid secrets no one could uncover.

Raine stared, forgetting for a moment the dire situation she was in.

"Me?" she asked after a beat, disbelief lacing her voice.

Paul glanced at her. Though she seemed unfamiliar, she was undeniably young and beautiful. The qualities that made her an easy choice. And Damien Voss was not someone he could afford to displease.

"Yes, you," Paul barked, shoving her forward. "Don't just stand there!"

Raine stumbled into the circle of men. She glanced nervously at the group seated on the surrounding couches and broad-shouldered, stone-faced bodyguards who were all sizing her up like prey. Her stomach churned.

'Out of the frying pan and into the fire,' she thought bitterly.

Hesitantly, she stepped toward Damien, who leaned casually against the bar. Those piercing, icy eyes of his seemed to linger in her mind, making her shiver.

Damien's lips curved into a smirk. "What's wrong? The escorts here don't even know how to fake a smile anymore?" He poured a glass of whiskey and slid it toward her.

Raine realized her face had gone stiff. Forcing herself to relax, she plastered on a polite smile.

"Sir, excuse me," she said, keeping her voice light and feminine. "May I use the restroom first?"

Her plan was simple: find an escape route.

But Damien wasn't so easily fooled.

"Sure," he said casually, gesturing toward one of the bodyguards. "Go with her."

Her heart sank.

But when Raine looked at the glass of whiskey in front of her, a crazier idea took shape.

'If I get him drunk, maybe I can slip away.'

In the past, desperate to break free from Victor and his family, she had thrown herself into part-time jobs as soon as she entered college. She had worked in various venues, even picking up a few tricks to navigate the drinking scene.

She swallowed hard. This was her best shot.

"Oh! Whiskey!" she said brightly, feigning excitement as she pointed at the bottle on the table. "Sir, I just had a thought. Maybe you'd enjoy a fountain show later."

Leaning closer to him, she fluttered her lashes and flashed a mischievous smile. "You know, that kind of fountain."

Her voice dripped with flirtation, her eyes sparkling like a sly little fox.

Damien raised a brow, intrigued. "Go on."

"I propose a game," she said, her tone light but her heart pounding. "Think of it as a whiskey challenge. Two rows of whiskey shots. Whoever finishes first wins. The loser? They owe the winner one request for anything they want."

He remained silent, his expression composed but unreadable.

"What's wrong?" she teased, letting a hint of mockery creep into her voice. "Don't tell me you're scared."

She paused and then added with a pointed glance downwards, "Or are you... not up for the challenge in other areas?" Her gaze caught on the impressive bulge beneath his waistband, and she swallowed hard, her confidence wavering slightly.

'Focus, Raine,' she scolded herself. She was only trying to rile him up enough to take the bait.

To her surprise, Damien chuckled. His fingers tapped rhythmically on the table as he studied her, amusement flickering in his eyes.

"All right," he said finally, his voice smooth and dangerous. "But don't come crying when you regret it."