The Collector's Curse

【16】The Back Room

I snaked my way out of the crowd with relative ease, swaying between the dancers and avoiding collisions as I walked toward the elevator. Behind me, I heard Ulrik call my name, but I ignored him, hoping his broad build would make it hard for him to follow me. As soon as I was freed from the mass, I hastened my steps and walked to the elevator. My escape might have worked if the damned things had been here already rather than up there.

The doors were barely opening when Ulrik joined me, gently grabbing my arm. "Mila, what's wrong?"

I shook my arm out of his hold and glared up at him. "You have to ask, really?"

Before he could answer, I stepped into the elevator. Of course, he joined me there, and I turned my gaze away. But with the mirrors surrounding us, he was everywhere at once, and escaping his stare was nearly impossible.

"I'm sorry I took so long, elskling. Tyr had a lot of...questions."

"I don't care," I lied.

"You obviously do. I'm sorry I was away for too long, Mila."

Finally, I met his blue irises, hating that I could already feel my anger dissipate. "It's not just that. What does black mean?" I demanded, shoving my wrist in his face.

"I told you, it means you're a special guest."

"Really? One that's private property and shouldn't be approached?"

Slight confusion claimed his features, but not the kind I was hoping for. On his face, I read some admittance of guilt. "Who told you thi—"

"Some creepy rando who came to harass me while you were doing God knows what back there. Which, by the way, I know is only restricted to black bracelets. So, congrats on ensuring I'd be kept away while you handle your affairs."

The doors opened again, and I stepped out of the elevator, eager to escape him. "Mila, it's not like that," he insisted, catching up with me.

"Like what? Like you made sure the man handling the desk would give me a bracelet that not only claimed your ownership of me but also kept me out of the one place you plan on spending the night in?"

Although I was doing my best to control my voice and not cause a scene, my heated retort attracted the curious interest of a few people around us. Ulrik noticed, scanning our surroundings with unease.

"I'm not your property, Ulrik. And I'm not the kind of woman you can abandon for nearly an hour like an obedient bitch."

Ulrik's frustration became palpable, his resolve hardening. In a move that caught me off guard, he seized my arm, his grip firm and determined. Without a word, he began pulling me away from the prying interest and judgmental gazes of the onlookers. My eyes widened when I saw where he was dragging me, and I stopped trying to wrench my wrist out of his grasp.

The bouncer at the back room entrance started to object, raising his hand, "Sir," he began. But Ulrik's intent was unwavering, and he bypassed the bouncer with a stern gaze that left no room for argument.

As we entered the back room, a hushed atmosphere enveloped us. The opulence of the VIP lounge was amplified here, with private alcoves separated by heavy and dark velour drapes. Some people were seated in those, among which I recognized Ulrik's friend and other people I'd seen during the evening. Chandeliers cast a warm, dim glow, and gold decor adorned the surroundings, creating an aura of luxury and seclusion. In my eagerness to discover this exclusive space, I almost forgot about my annoyance and anger, absorbed by our surroundings' lavishness.

There was a golden door at the end of it, guarded by two men in suits. What was that? Yet another level of above the VIP's VIP? This place, which had seemed so incredible upon arriving, now felt overly pompous and pretentious. Those people needed a reality check to realize they weren't that important.