Love Me Without My Name

Chapter 2 — Escape Room

‎Veronica flopped onto her bed, breathing heavily as if she had just run out of air. She kept her eyes tightly shut.

‎‎She swore she had seen something just before collapsing onto the mattress. Deep down, she hoped it wasn’t what she thought it was. Slowly, she opened her eyes, and there they were. Two large, luxurious boxes sitting in the middle of her room.

‎‎“I know you’re f*****g lying,” she muttered under her breath as she pushed herself up.

‎She reached for the boxes and tore the first one open. It was filled with clothes, lots of expensive, high-end designer clothes.

‎Veronica sighed heavily, she picked them up one after the other, and stared at them with disdain, as though they were worthless trash. The thought of wearing any of them to school made her stomach turn. She dropped the clothes carelessly and fell back onto her bed, staring blankly at the ceiling of her grand, fourteen foot high decorated room.

‎The sting of the slap from earlier still burned on her cheek as her mind raced. Just then, a soft knock sounded on the door.

‎“Who is it?” she asked, her voice flat.

‎"Miss Veronica?” a familiar voice called from the other side. She immediately recognized the polite, almost timid tone—one of the maids. That was always how they announced themselves.

‎Veronica dragged herself out of bed and walked to the door. She grabbed the handle and opened it just halfway.

‎“What is it?” her voice was low and irritated.

‎Her eyes landed on the maid standing patiently in the hallway, and then on the boxes of shoes arranged neatly on a service cart.

‎“What are those?” she asked, her brows furrowed.

‎“They are Red Bottoms, Miss Veronica. Your mother asked me to deliver them to your room...”

‎“My mom?” Veronica cut in, frowning deeply. She didn’t even have the energy to argue. At the end of the day, her mother always won.

‎With a deep, weary sigh that carried all her vulnerability, she opened the door fully and stepped aside. The maid wheeled the cart into the room and began carefully unpacking the designer shoes one by one while Veronica watched in silence. She desperately needed to clear her head. So she waited patiently for the maid to finish.

‎Once the maid left, Veronica closed the door gently behind her. She quickly changed her clothes, applied a touch of makeup, grabbed her phone, purse, and jacket, and slipped out of the house. She made sure no one, not even the drivers knew where she was going. Soon enough, she found herself inside a dimly lit bar.

****

‎“Get me anything, please. Something not too strong,” she told the young bartender, who was staring at her strangely.

‎“What is it?” Veronica asked, her voice slightly aggressive. The way he was looking at her made her uncomfortable, especially since she was there alone.

‎“You look familiar,” the bartender said as he mixed her drink. “Like I’ve seen you on TV or something.”

‎“I don’t know what the hell you’re talking about,” Veronica replied with a forced grin, feigning ignorance. “And I suggest you mind your goddamn business before I speak to your supervisor.” Her tone was sharp and far from friendly.

‎“Okay, I’m sorry. I was just being nice, Jesus,” the bartender murmured, placing her drink gently on the counter before stepping back.

‎Veronica picked up the glass, her cold stare fixed on him, even colder than the drink in her hand. She took a slow sip, feeling the chill slide down her throat. Damn, she needed that.

‎A few minutes later, the sound of a microphone being adjusted buzzed through the bar. The crowd began to whisper in anticipation. It was time for the live music everyone had been waiting for.

‎“Hello, everybody,” a smooth voice rang out.

‎Veronica froze mid-sip. That voice sounded strangely familiar. She lifted her head toward the small stage and narrowed her eyes. Sure enough, it was the bartender from earlier. What the hell is he doing with a microphone? she thought.

‎“I hope we’re all doing good tonight. Are we having fun?” he asked, his voice full of energy.

‎“Yes!” the crowd shouted back with excitement.

‎“Alright… I wrote this song. It’s dedicated to my ex.”

‎“Uuh!...” The crowd rippled collectively through the room.

‎“I hope you love it as much as I do.”

‎He began strumming his guitar, and the moment he opened his mouth to sing, Veronica was stunned. His voice was hauntingly beautiful, smooth, powerful, and incredibly moving. She watched him in complete awe. Not only was he talented, but up close, she could see he was around her age, probably twenty or twenty-one. She had never been laid before, but if there was one person she'd let rip her guts apart, it'd definitely be him.

‎“Hey, beautiful.” An annoying, slightly drunk voice pulled her out of her intrusive thoughts. Veronica turned to see three older men standing in front of her.

‎“Mind if we buy you a drink?” Another guy asked, flashing what he thought was supposed to be a charming smirk.

‎Veronica looked at them with open disgust. “Thanks, I can buy my own drink,” she replied coldly.

‎“Come on baby, it’s just a drink. No need to be rude about it.” another pressed.

‎“Baby?” she scoffed. “You’re old enough to be my father. Get the hell away from me before I call security.”

‎“Alright… we’re leaving,” one of them said, though their eyes lingered on her body as they backed away. The thought of what was going through their minds made Veronica sick to her stomach.

‎By the time the bartender finished his performance, the crowd erupted into loud applause.

‎“Thank you, everybody,” He said smoothly. “My name remains Adrian Cole. And I hope you'll have a good time, tonight.” He stepped off the stage to thunderous applause.

‎Veronica was quite drunk by now. She was surprisingly having a good time, chatting with strangers and laughing with a few girls at the bar.

‎But it was getting late. The bar would soon be closing. By now, her mother or brother must have noticed she was missing. She glanced at her phone, 10:58 pm.

‎“Oh no,” she murmured. “My mom is going to kill me.”

‎She stood up quickly and nearly tripped, almost falling onto the guy beside her. The room spun slightly, she was drunk.

‎“Sorry,” she whispered, quickly scanning the environment to make sure no one who may recognize her was recording.

‎She reached for her phone to call her driver, then remembered she had snuck out alone. Goddamn it. She stepped outside and tried to order a cab. The street was dimly lit, and she walked a few steps away from the bar entrance.

‎Suddenly, three dark, broad figures, stepped out of the shadows, as if they had been waiting for her.

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