He continues as if he didn’t just serve me the most delicious threat I’ve ever heard. “Don’t speak of your personal life. Nothing that means anything to you anyways. You’re here to get information on Gigi, and that’s incentive enough.” “Incentive?” I interrupt, whipping my head back towards him. “You’re walking into the viper’s pit because Mark found something that you care about and is holding it over your head,” Zade explains plainly. I snap my mouth shut, contrite and a little worried. “If he finds out anything else you care about, that will be something he’Il use to his advantage if he’s given the chance.” My mouth falls back open. “But don’t worry,” he says, cutting in before I can demand that he take me home. “Ill flay his skin from his body before he can even think to do anything to hurt you.” With that, he opens the door, gets out and throws his keys at the waiting valet, shutting the door firmly and cutting off any questions I had on the tip of my tongue. For starters, can I go home now? I’m asking myself if solving Gigi’s murder is worth involving myself with dangerous people. But it’s too late. I’m here, and I’m bound and determined to get at least a few more of my questions answered before Zade takes me home. I have the feeling that not only am I putting my safety in Zade’s hands tonight, but my life. Because I’m walking into a house owned by an evil man, I don’t need Zade to spell that out for me. Zade opens my door and holds out a hand for me to grab onto as I slide out of the car. Electricity explodes from where his hand grips mine, and all I really want to do is guide his hands to other parts of my body. I suck in icy air, the cold offering a balm to my insides, and allowing me enough clarity to concentrate on everything else besides the domineering man beside me. Mark’s house is ostentatious. A massive white monstrosity with five huge pillars and a million windows. In my opinion, the house is ugly, typical and downright boring. The inside is even worse. I walk into a large, wide hallway with picture frames lining either side of the wall of who I assume is Mark’s family. My heels click against the ivory tile, and I can’t help but think it’s going to turn brown after all the shoes that’ ll be treading across it. We’re ushered by a butler down the hallway, past an all-white kitchen and into a ballroom. An actual fucking ballroom.