Hidden Heart, Book 2 of the Hidden Trilogy (Fantasy)

by Amy Patrick

  His tone earned another laugh from Reggie. “I’ll make it up to you next time, my friend. You can take anyone you want and give me the one you want to unload.” Slapping Nox on the back, he departed, heading for the field house where the rest of his teammates had already gone.

  Before Nox and I could exchange any words, a tall black-haired beauty approached us from the side and grabbed my elbow. “Come with me.”

  I assumed she was Reggie’s house manager, and he’d sent her the message to collect me. Her other hand was wrapped around the wrist of the little redhead. “And this one—Megan—is yours.”

  She unceremoniously pushed the girl toward Nox, who looked from her to me. Now his eyes held a spark of panic. He’d finally realized I was leaving him—right here, right now.

  “Wait—” he started to protest.

  “Is there a problem?” the dark-haired house manager asked. “Was this not the one you wanted?”

  It’s fine, Nox. I’ll be fine. I’ll be home as soon as possible. With Emmy. Home, meaning his house in Malibu.

  With one last helpless glance at me, Nox barked, “No, it’s fine. She’ll do.”

  She gave him a knowing grin. “First trade, huh? You’ve got to watch out for Reggie. He’s an expert. He’ll rob you blind.”

  With a wink for Nox and barely a glance for me, the woman tightened her fingers on my arm and led me away toward a waiting bus. Reggie’s pod members were already boarding. As I put my foot on the first step of the boarding ramp, I risked one last glance back at Nox.

  He stood in the same place I’d left him, hands hanging loose by his sides, wearing a forlorn expression. Be careful, he messaged me. I will have you back with me soon—one way or the other. And stay OUT of his suite.

  The last part was practically a shout in my brain. He didn’t have to tell me twice. The less time I spent alone with Reggie Dillon, the better as far as I was concerned.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Reggie’s House

  It would have been ideal if I could’ve managed to sit with Emmy on the bus—maybe I’d have been able to glamour her sufficiently during the ride so we could disembark and walk right off the estate together when we got there.

  But my luck was not that good. I was one of the last girls to board thanks to the wheeling and dealing I’d been a part of. Emmy already had a seatmate, like all the other girls. The only space available was next to the house manager. Great. There would be no influencing anyone on this ride.

  “So, Ryann—that’s your name, right? I’m Ingrid. I’m the house manager for Reggie’s fan pod. You’ll be taking Megan’s bed in her old suite tonight.” Under her breath she added as she turned toward the window, “That’s if you get to go to bed tonight.”

  I nodded and kept my face carefully blank, but her words had lit a panic fire inside me. Probably no one knew Reggie’s tendencies better than this woman—it was her job to make sure all his whims and desires were met—and she seemed to think he’d be summoning me to his suite tonight.

  I closed my eyes and concentrated on Emmy—on why I was doing this. Then to calm my nerves, I pictured my log house back in Mississippi. I saw the faces of Grandma, Mom, and Dad—all the people who cared about me, who were worried about me and needed me to come home. A vision of Lad came unbidden to my mind, probably spurred by his visit last night.

  Clearly, he no longer belonged in that group, but apparently the message still hadn’t gotten through to my heart.

  “Are you all right?” Ingrid’s sharp voice startled my eyelids open.

  I met her gaze. “Yes. I sometimes have a problem with motion sickness.” And then a brilliant idea occurred to me—something that might keep me out of Reggie’s suite tonight. “At least I think that’s what it is. My family had the flu when I left a few days ago. I hope I don’t have it.”

  “The flu?” Ingrid looked annoyed, but I knew she wasn’t worried for herself. Elves didn’t get human illnesses like flu. “I certainly hope not—I don’t want you infecting the other girls. Maybe I should have you quarantined for a few days.”

  Dang it. That wouldn’t work either. I couldn’t be kept away from Emmy for a few days. I needed to get to her immediately and make quick work of this then get home to help convince Mom that Davis wasn’t the dream guy she believed him to be.

  “I’m sure I don’t. Actually, I think I’m feeling a bit better already. I’ve always had carsickness, since I was a kid.”

  She sat back in her seat, looking somewhat relieved but studying my face. “Good. Well, be sure to tell me if you feel worse again. We have a full schedule. The last thing we need is a houseful of sick girls.”

  Okay, so playing sick wasn’t going to keep me from Reggie’s clutches. Maybe I could talk to Emmy this afternoon and convince her to escape with me before Reggie’s appetites awakened.

  Reggie’s mansion was in the Hollywood Hills off Nichols Canyon Road. The multi-level concrete, steel, and glass structure was in a gated compound, built into the side of a hill with panoramic views of the canyons below.

  Ingrid herded us through the house, past an incredible marble kitchen and a sleek, modern entertaining space toward a separate wing. When we got there and I saw how spread out the fan pod quarters were, I worried. Would I even see Emmy? What if her room was on the opposite end of our wing? It would be awfully suspicious of me to seek her out. I wanted to do this casually, as if we’d just run into each other and started chatting.

  I fought to keep Emmy in my line of sight so I’d know where her room was. I’d have to find an excuse to go there—maybe pretend to be confused and wander into her room by “mistake,” thinking it was mine.

  And then a miracle happened. Or a very lucky coincidence. Whatever it was, I felt like leaping up and tapping the ceiling when I saw the back of Emmy’s head go into a room and followed as Ingrid led me into the same room right after her. Were Megan and Emmy suitemates?

  I couldn’t let my excitement show. I wasn’t supposed to know Emmy, and I was supposed to be glamoured, so I shouldn’t have any vested interest in which room I would sleep in. I kept my emotions in check and forced myself to pay attention as Ingrid gave me the house rules and showed me to my new bed.

  Megan’s things were still scattered about—a hairbrush and makeup bag on the bed, socks hanging out of one drawer of her dresser. Her hot pink suitcase peeked out from under the bedspread. It looked like she’d rushed to get ready on time this morning, and naturally, she’d assumed she’d be coming back here. I guessed she was having a similar experience at Nox’s house, taking over my room, checking out my abandoned belongings, meeting Gigi and my other former suitemates.

  “Don’t worry about your things—they’ll be sent over shortly,” Ingrid said, anticipating my question. “And we’ll send Megan’s things to her. This sort of thing happens all the time. You’ll feel right at home here soon. You have two hours before dinner to get to know your roommates.” She spun and left the room.

  “Hey, you look familiar. You’re the girl who was looking for the porta-potty. Ryann, right?” Emmy said with a friendly smile.

  My heart broke at her disassociated tone. “Yeah. You’re Emmy, right?”

  She nodded and introduced me to her other suitemates, a girl from Boston named Kerri and a girl from Florida named Tara. They all fell into a discussion of Megan and what it might be like to be forced to leave Reggie’s exalted presence and go to another fan pod.

  “What’s Nox Knight like?” Kerri asked.

  Tara wrinkled her nose. “I’m not a big fan of rockers—they’re usually assholes. Athletes are much nicer.”

  “And hotter,” Kerri agreed.

  All three looked at me, waiting on my assessment of my former pod master.

  “Um, well, Nox is nice. Not an asshole at all, actually, he’s—”

  “Well, obviously you’re going to say that.” Kerri laughed. “You love him. Like we love Reggie. I’d die if I got sent away.”

  I wanted to arg
ue that I didn’t love Nox but quickly thought better of it. It would be stupid to reveal my objectivity, something none of these girls possessed. Reggie’s glamour Kool-Aid was obviously every bit as strong as Nox’s. The girls here were just as helplessly enslaved.

  But how was it happening, exactly? I still didn’t understand it. As my new suitemates filled me in on the glories of Reggie, I let the question turn over in my mind. How much time could he possibly be spending with them? And how long did the glamour last outside his presence?

  From what I’d seen at Nox’s house, he spent hardly any time with his fan pod members at all—yet they stayed focused on him to an obsessive degree, staring at his pictures on social media and The Hidden’s website, watching his videos on You Tube, listening to his music, and generally gorging themselves on all things Nox.

  It looked to be the same story here. As I glanced around the room, I saw a TV in the corner, its volume down low, broadcasting an interview with Reggie. A female network sports reporter, Elven from the looks of her, was holding a mic to his handsome face, and Reggie smiled charmingly while discussing the team’s readiness for the upcoming season.

  Emmy’s laptop stood open on her bed, and video of a Tremors game played on the screen. I knew the team wasn’t playing right now, so it had to be a recorded game.

  Emmy had always been into jocks, but this was extreme, even for her. She loved SEC sports, but I’d never known her to be an NFL fan and certainly not a Tremors fan. Now she was watching their game re-broadcasts? I couldn’t imagine anything more boring.

  Posters of Reggie playing, Reggie sweating, Reggie smiling and posing in a midriff-baring jersey and tight football pants decorated the walls of our room. On the ceiling above the bed where I’d sleep tonight (hopefully, please God, let me sleep tonight) was a poster of him in a locker room setting, holding a football and wearing only a towel and a smile.

  Um yeah. I did not like the idea of lying under his predatory gaze, either in a photo or in person. I needed to get this job done fast.

  After a little more conversation, Kerri and Tara went back to their room on the other side of our shared and adjoining bathroom, finally leaving me and Emmy alone. I shut the bathroom door and joined Emmy on her bed where she’d settled in to watch the outdated game. This was my chance to get through to her.

  “Emmy?”

  “Hmm?” She gave me a brief, glazed-looking glance then returned her eyes to the computer screen.

  “Emmy, can we talk?”

  “Talk?” she repeated, looking no more tuned-in and interested than before.

  Frustrated, I reached over and closed the laptop. She gave me an offended glare. “Hey! I was watching that.”

  “Sorry. I need to talk to you.”

  “About what? Reggie?”

  “Not exactly. Well, sort of. Emmy—do you not remember me at all?” Now I made a conscious effort to turn on my glamour. I focused all my intent on influencing her to listen and believe me. “We are friends. We’ve been friends since we were four. And I came here to save you.”

  “Save me? From what?”

  “You’re in danger. You’re not yourself. Look at where you are, Emmy. You’re not even with Vallon anymore—that was what you wanted more than anything, remember? You’ve loved his movies your whole life. You worshipped the ground he walked on. And now you’re in someone else’s fan pod—someone you’ve never even mentioned to me. Doesn’t that strike you as strange? And you don’t even seem upset about it.”

  She shook her head, her eyebrows pulling together and her mouth turning down in a bewildered frown. “I’m… not upset.”

  “Because you’re not thinking for yourself. Someone is controlling your mind—controlling you—and putting you into positions you didn’t choose, maybe making you do things you don’t want to do.”

  Now her chin bobbed up and down, the frown deepening. “I didn’t want to go to Reggie’s room. I didn’t want to do those… I wanted to be with Vallon.” Her eyes glistened with newly formed tears. I could read fear from her again, as well as the ever-present confusion.

  “That’s why I’m here. I’m going to get you out of here. We’re leaving—tonight.”

  Emmy stared intently into my eyes, and I saw a spark of recognition, a glimmer of my old friend. “Ryann?”

  I laughed, unable to contain my joy. “Yes. It’s me. I’m here—I came here to get you.”

  Tears spilled over her eyelids and she did a little laugh-cry thing as she threw her arms around me. “Ryann. I want to go home.”

  She sobbed again, and I nodded against her shoulder, squeezing her tightly. “Yes. Yes, we’re going home.”

  Drawing back to look at my face, she asked, “When?” Her voice was full of hope.

  “Right now. Let’s go. Do you need to bring anything with you?”

  She shook her head and rose from the bed to follow me to the door. “What are we gonna do, Ryann? I don’t have any money to fly home. Do you?”

  “Don’t worry about that. N—” I stopped myself from saying Nox’s name. I didn’t want there to be any chance of his being implicated in our escape. “Someone will help us. I’ll call him when we get away from the estate, and he’ll come pick us up.”

  And I knew he would. In my heart, I had no doubt Nox would help us, help me. That he’d do anything I needed. Holding Emmy’s hand, I opened the door to our room and pulled her out into the hallway. It was crowded with girls in bikinis.

  Kerri turned to us. “What are you doing? You can’t go out to the pool like that. Go get your suits on.”

  “Oh, I uh…”

  “Didn’t you hear the announcement? Reggie’s invited us to swim with him. And there are some other super-hot celebs out there. It’s a pool party!” Tara squealed and bounced, testing the limits of her tiny triangle top.

  Dang. Ingrid had said we had two hours free. When had this come up?

  I didn’t have to consider it long before realizing we were all responding to Reggie’s whim. He was probably hot after returning from practice and decided there was no better way to cool off than in his Olympic-sized pool surrounded by half-naked adoring women. I should have been thrilled he wanted us only half-naked. These girls would no doubt take it all off for him if he suggested it.

  But there was still a way out of this. In fact, this new development could be a good thing. If I could stall a bit, Emmy and I would be able to sneak through the house and out the front entrance while everyone else was splashing around out back.

  “I don’t have my suit with me,” I said, feigning disappointment.

  Emmy came to life beside me. “I’ve got an extra—in my room—you can borrow it.”

  She grinned at me, and I gave her an approving nod. Truthfully, I wanted to hug her. This was perfect—the exact opportunity we needed for escape. We’d go back to the room, wait until the others were outside, then make a break for it.

  “Great. Listen y’all—we’re gonna go back and find a suit for me, I’ll get changed, and we’ll meet you out there.”

  And then someone tapped me on the back. I spun around to see Ingrid giving me the coldest smile I’d ever beheld.

  “There will be no need for borrowed swimwear. I have this for you. It’s brand-new. It’s Versace.”

  I had to swallow my heart before answering. First, because it scared me to death that she’d been standing right behind me as I tried to concoct a scheme to escape. And second, because what dangled from her fingertip resembled a hair ribbon more than an actual garment.

  “Oh. Wow. That’s… great. So generous.”

  “It’s not generosity,” she snapped. “It’s what Reggie wants. He likes his girls to look good. Now get in there and put it on.” She dropped the ribbon into my palm. “Emmy—grab your suit and go with the others. You can change in the pool house. I’ll make sure your new roommate finds her way to the pool deck.”

  Emmy snapped into action, obeying Ingrid’s orders and emerging from the room in under a minute w
ith a yellow bikini in hand. Giving me a last searching glance over her shoulder, she followed the other girls down the hall.

  “You two seem to be getting along well,” Ingrid said in a measured tone.

  I made sure my answering tone was all small-town-girl innocence. “Yes. She’s nice. And I like my room. Okay… I’ll go get changed.”

  Five minutes later I stood in front of the full-length closet door mirror, almost in tears. I couldn’t go out there—anywhere—in this swimsuit. Donatella Versace was known for her daring, body-baring designs, and she’d outdone herself on this one. Not only was I being asked to shed all my street clothes, I’d have to drop every scrap of modesty I possessed to wear this in public.

  The suit would officially have been called a one-piece, but when I walked out of this room, parts of me that had never seen the sun would be exposed for the world to see. It was black, with a halter-style top that plunged to my lower ribcage. The halter straps themselves barely covered the centers of my breasts, revealing side cleavage on both sides. The top and bottom halves of the suit were joined by a metallic gold ring over my belly button.

  Matching gold rings at each hip anchored the bottom half of the suit, which was no more generous than the top. It consisted of a tiny panel of black fabric that barely covered my bikini zone in the front and a mortifying never-in-my-life G-string in the back.

  Cringing, I turned around and peeked over my shoulder at the rear view.

  Oh dear God. It was worse than I’d expected. I looked basically nude from behind. My eyes went to the window. Was it wired with a house alarm? Maybe I could climb out and hitch a ride back to Nox’s? No. Emmy was here. I couldn’t leave her.

  I turned back around to the mirror, my face a twisted image of anxiety and my hands wringing each other white from loss of circulation.

  A knock sounded at the door, making me jump.

  “Are you dressed? What’s taking so long?”

  I called a shaky answer back to Ingrid, my guard dog. “Almost. Just a minute.”

  Oh God. I had to do it. If I refused to wear the Emperor’s-new-swimwear, Ingrid would know I wasn’t glamoured.