Chapter 56 A Night Out
Amelia
I could hear Jeremy's breathing, and it was heavy with frustration. It was close enough that I could feel the heat of him.
"If I take you," he said finally, slowly, "you stay by my side. You don't wander off. You don't talk to strangers. You do exactly what I tell you. Understood?"
Hope flared in my chest. "Yes."
If Alexei Volkov or any other member of the Volkov family shows up, you should let me handle the situation. You don't engage. You don't speak to them. Am I clear?"
"Clear," I said.
"And Amelia—" His voice dropped lower. "You don't pull a stunt like this again. Ever. If I say no, you accept it. You don't blackmail me by blocking doors."
"I wasn't blackmailing you."
"You absolutely were." But something in his tone had shifted. Less angry. Almost—amused?" It was manipulative and inappropriate and—"
"And it worked," I said, unable to stop the small smile.
"Yes. It worked this time." His hand touched my arm—warm, firm. "Move away from the door."
I did.
"Stay here. I need to make some calls."
He moved past me, back down the hallway. I heard him pull out his phone.
"Luca. Change of plans. I'm taking Amelia to Crimson with me tonight."
Luca's voice was distant but audible: "Boss, are you sure that's a good idea?"
"No. But I'm doing it anyway. Meet me at the east entrance in ten minutes. You and Nico are coming with us."
"Understood."
"And Luca—this stays quiet. My father doesn't need to know. Antonio definitely doesn't need to know. As far as anyone asks, I'm going out alone."
"Got it."
He hung up and made another call.
"Nico. Come to the east entrance in ten minutes. We're taking Amelia to Crimson. I'll explain on the way."
Then he made another call. Another call. "Marco. It's Jeremy. I'm coming by tonight with Amelia. Room three. We'll need privacy."
Marco's voice was faint, but I caught the tone: surprised.
"Didn't expect to see her back at Crimson so early," Marco said carefully.
"It's just for tonight. And Marco—keep it quiet. As far as anyone else is concerned, we weren't there."
"Understood, Santoro."
Jeremy hung up. I heard him pocket his phone.
"Are you happy now?" he asked.
Was I? I'd won. I was getting out of the wing. Getting to go out with him, and it felt like a date unless this was not a date.
But there was something in his voice—resignation mixed with something else. Worry, maybe. Or fear.
"Thank you," I said quietly. "For saying yes. For taking me."
"Don't thank me yet. We haven't even left." His footsteps came closer. "And Amelia—if anything happens tonight, if anything goes wrong, the is on you. You forced my hand. So whatever consequences come from this, you own them."
The words should have scared me. It should have made me reconsider.
But all I felt was relief. And anticipation.
I was getting out. Even if just for a few hours. Even if it was to a bar I'd worked at and hated.
I was getting out of the cage.
And I was going with Jeremy.
Which felt—right. And safer than being alone in this house. But also more dangerous in ways I didn't want to examine.
"I understand," I said. "I'll be careful. I promise."
"You better be." He moved toward his room. "Go change. Wear something nice but not too attention-grabbing. We leave in ten minutes."
"Okay."
I went to my room and felt through my closet for the clothes Jeremy's staff had provided. I found a simple dress—dark fabric, modest cut. The kind of thing that wouldn't stand out.
I changed quickly, ran a brush through my hair, and splashed water on my face.
When I emerged, Jeremy was waiting in the hallway.
"Ready?" he asked.
"Yes."
"Remember the rules. Stay close. Don't wander. Don't engage with anyone I haven't approved of."
"I remember."
"Good. Let's go."
We walked to the east entrance together. I heard car doors opening—Luca and Nico were already there.
"Boss," Luca said. "Are you sure about this?"
"No. But we're doing it anyway." Jeremy's hand found my elbow. "Amelia, get in the back seat. I'll be right beside you."
I climbed in. Felt Jeremy slide in next to me. Close enough that our shoulders touched in the confined space.
The car started moving.
And all I could think was: I did it. I stood my ground. I refused to back down.
And Jeremy, dangerous, controlling, overprotective Jeremy, had given in.
This is all due to me because I'd been stubborn.
Because I'd made him choose between staying and taking me.
And he'd chosen to take me.
What did that mean?
I didn't know.
But as we drove through the New York night, with Jeremy's warmth beside me and freedom ahead of me, even if just for a few hours—
I didn't care.
I'd won this round.
And that felt good.
Even if I knew there would be consequences.
Even if I knew I was playing with fire.
Even if I knew that being close to Jeremy like this, fighting with him like this, pushing him like this—
Was dangerous in ways that had nothing to do with the Volkovs.
The car pulled up outside Crimson and my stomach tightened.
I'd been so focused on getting out of the wing, on winning the argument with Jeremy, that I hadn't thought about where we were actually going.
Back to Crimson. Back to the place where I'd served dangerous men. Where Jade and the other girls had thrown me out. Where I'd felt trapped and scared and alone.
I'd thought being at the estate was a cage.
But at least at the estate, I'd had space. Privacy. I had my own room.
Here—
"We're here," Jeremy said, his hand on my elbow. "Remember the rules."
"I remember." I cut him off.
He guided me out of the car, through the entrance. The familiar smells hit me immediately—cigarette smoke, expensive cologne, liquor, and that underlying scent of wood polish and old leather.
And voices. Conversations happening in Italian, Russian, and English. The sound of glasses clinking can be heard. The shuffle of cards.
Dangerous men that are engaged in risky business.
"This way." Jeremy's grip tightened slightly. Protective. Possessive.
We walked through the main bar area. I heard conversations pause as we passed. I sensed that someone was observing us, specifically me.
Marco's voice called out, "Santoro." "Room three is ready."
"Good. The usual whisky should be served. And—" Jeremy paused. "What do you drink, Amelia?"
"I don't."
"You don't drink alcohol?"
"No," I answered.
"Water, then. And coffee if you have it fresh."
"Coming right up."
Jeremy guided me down the hallway I remembered. Jeremy led me past room one. Past room two. Into room three.