Nicole nodded. “All right.”
Sloane reached out and tucked his forefinger beneath Angela’s chin, lifting her face so her downcast eyes met his. “Remember what we talked about earlier, Angel,” he said, his tone gentle, yet firm. “Be a good girl and do whatever it takes to make Alex happy.”
“Okay,” she whispered in a small voice.
Sloane transferred his gaze to Nathan. “We’ll be back in a while. Enjoy your time together.”
Nathan refused to return the sentiment. As he watched Sloane lead Nicole back upstairs, he felt torn between staying with Angela, and following Nicole to make sure the slimy bastard kept his hands to himself. Releasing a deep breath, he focused on what he’d come here to Summerlin to do. He had to trust that Nicole could take care of herself.
Right now, he didn’t have a choice.
Taking Angela’s small hand in his, he felt her tremble-and sensed her fear as he led her toward one of the draped beds. Angela watched him warily, and in an attempt to put her at ease, he plumped up the pillows so they both could sit up, rather than lie down, as most of the other couples in the room were doing.
He settled on top of the mattress and leaned against the mound of pillows, then patted the vacant spot beside him. “Come and sit down.” As soon as he saw the flash of apprehension in her eyes, he sought to relieve her anxiety. “I’m not going to hurt you or do anything you don’t want to. I just want to talk.”
“Talk?” She eyed him skeptically.
He chuckled, soft and low. “Yeah, just talk. I promise.”
She hesitated only a moment before climbing up onto the mattress and sitting beside him-close enough for them to look intimate if anyone should glance their way, yet far enough so that she didn’t feel threatened by him. Being with Angela without any sexual contact was the first step to lowering her guard. Next was establishing a friendship and making sure she realized he had no intentions of manhandling her, that he wanted her to feel safe and secure with him.
Angela absently pulled her dress over her knees and glanced at him shyly. “What do you want to talk about?”
He smiled. “You.”
A frown creased her light blond brows, as if she wasn’t quite sure what to make of his interest in her. “What about me?”
Because he’d given her no reason to fear being with him, she was finally starting to soften, her initial trepidation fading, allowing her to relax more and more with each passing minute. Whatever she was on had a mellowing effect on her, and he took advantage of her docile disposition while he could.
“How long have you been here?” he asked, keeping the exchange between them light and casual. He needed to get a feel for her mental and emotional state and gauge if she was going to cooperate with a rescue attempt, or not.
She shrugged. “A few weeks.”
He tipped his head curiously. “Do you like it here?”
“It’s okay,” she replied softly.
Nathan took her lack of enthusiasm as a good sign. Hopefully, the glamour of being one of Sloane’s girls was wearing off and she was starting to realize that running away from home hadn’t been the answer to her problems- that it had only created problems of a different kind. Then again, she was young and most likely couldn’t see the extreme situation she’d entangled herself in.
“That’s a pretty dress you’re wearing,” he said, deliberately steering their conversation in a different direction. “Pretty necklace, too.”
She blushed at his compliment and fingered the pendant hanging around her neck. “Preston gave it to me. He gives me lots of nice things.” A smile wavered on her lips. “He told me that I was special.”
“You are special,” Nathan said, and smiled to reassure her.
“Then why is he making me do this with you?” Her voice was thick with confusion, and a bit of anger, too.
“We’re only talking.” Shifting to his side to face her, he propped his head in his hand. He gave her a charming grin. “Am I really so bad?”
“No, you’re actually very nice.” She met his gaze, her eyes a bit glossy, but sincere. “You don’t creep me out like the other guys at these parties.”
It was a start-the beginning of gaining her trust. “Tell me more about yourself. What grade are you in?”
Surprise flashed across her delicate features, telling him he’d startled her with his direct, unexpected question-which he’d done intentionally. “I’m… I’m not in school,” she said nervously. “I’m eighteen.”
He studied her just long enough to let her know he doubted her claim. “You look much younger.”
“I’m
Knowing if he pushed the issue he’d risk her retreating when he’d already made so much headway with her, he backed off and decided to probe into another aspect of her situation. “So, where do you live, Angel?”
“Here at The Sanctuary.” She obviously didn’t feel that was a secret she needed to keep. “I’m living in one of the guesthouses on the property.”
“Do you live there all the time?”
“Yes,” she said with a nod of her head. “I have my own room there.”
All good information for him to know, yet there were still so many unknown variables-starting with finding which of the guesthouses she was staying in, and what he’d find once he made his way into the house. Undoubtedly, there was some kind of security involved, whether Sloane employed guards for the girls or used a surveillance system. Either way, he needed time to figure out his options and decide the best way to get her out of the estate.
Going by past experience, rather than skulking around the property in the middle of the night and risking detection, it might be easier to take Angela in the midst of a party-so long as she didn’t scream, struggle, or draw attention to the rescue attempt. But he hadn’t earned enough of Angela’s trust to know how she’d react, and because of that he couldn’t even think about an escape tonight.
“Don’t you miss your family?” He continued their conversation, asking questions that would make her think of her parents, and hopefully long for the warmth and security of her real home.
“No.” The sadness in her eyes contradicted her reply.
“Are you sure about that?” he asked gently. The more he was able to get her to admit to herself that she no longer wanted to live this kind of life, the easier his job would be.
“Maybe I miss them a little,” she admitted in a quiet voice. Grabbing one of the red silk pillows strewn on the bed, she drew it to her chest and wrapped her arms around it. “And my cat. I miss Twinkie a lot.”
“Twinkie?” He chuckled in amusement, lightening the mood and making her smile, too. “Where did that name come from?”
“Ever since I was a little girl, I’ve always liked Twinkies.” She ducked her head, as if the admission embarrassed her. “I found her at the park when I was ten, and I had to beg my mom to let me keep her. She’s this yellow-orange striped color, and her paws and belly are white.”
“So she looks a Twinkie?” he guessed.
“Yeah.” She laughed, the joyful sound untainted by her current circumstances. “Twinkie slept with me every single night and I loved to listen to her purr.”
Angela’s whole expression changed as she talked about her cat. She looked so happy, for the moment forgetting that she’d left that childhood behind the day she’d run away from home.
“How about you?” she asked, once she was done regaling him with tales of Twinkie the Cat. “Do you have a dog or a cat?”
“I did growing up.” Seeing this as a way to bond with her, he told her about Roxie, the family’s golden retriever. He also amused her with stories about his older sisters and made her laugh at his antics as a kid.
While she listened, he glanced at his watch and realized that Nicole and Sloane had been gone for over a half
