Only Forever by Cristin Harber Page A

searching. A whole new type of worry mixes with what I’ve already got going on.
    “You’re sure about this?” he asks.
    I bite my lip. “Yes.”
    “Alright, Ginger. If you’re sure.” Slowly, he takes a step back.
    Jeez.
    “Second door on the left.”
    My eyes narrow as I recall the last time I was down here. That wasn’t where Bruno’s office was, but whatever. I pull a reassuring breath. Here I go. “Thanks.”
    The hall’s lit poorly, and the walls are painted the color of red wine. I pass the door I recognize as Bruno’s office. It’s open and still very much looks like his in-use office. But farther down, voices murmur, and there are two security guards standing at the second door on the left. Both look at me with hard jaws and hesitant eyes. Shit . What the hell is going on? My stomach twists.
    They silently step aside, and I move through the door. There’s a velvet curtain that I pull aside and—
    What is all this? A plain stage sits in the middle of an open room. The walls look partitioned, and they are deeply shaded. In the middle of the room, in nothing but a thong and heels, is a girl I’ve never seen before. She’s so young. Like, so young. She poses, jutting her hip out as if she’s modeling, but there’s an uncomfortable vibe in the room.
    “Sold!” A low voice I don’t recognize scares the shit out of me, and I jump, only to have a hand wrap around my mouth. I’m yanked against a stout body and dragged into a dark alcove. As quickly as we go, my eyes can’t adjust. I can’t see anything, but I recognize the scent of Bruno’s clove cigarettes.
    “What are you doing in here?” he hisses at me then drops his hand from my mouth, spins me around, and grips my shoulders. His fingers bite into my skin, and he shakes me hard—way hard—and I can’t keep my head from jerking.
    “Ow, stop,” I plead, but he keeps his hold on me.
    “Damn it.” His accent is heavy as his grip tightens. “What are you doing?”
    “I needed to talk to you.”
    He growls, and I’m trembling. My throat’s constricted. Panic and dread blind me. It looks like Bruno’s running prostitution rings, and that’s a way bigger deal than selling hand jobs upstairs. But the word sold in particular freaks me out. I gasp. “That’s an auction?”
    “That’s business. Everything is business. I own many businesses, and you do not have permission to traipse your ass down here.”
    “I just wanted to let you know—I’m sick. The pukes. I’ve gotta go. Can’t do tonight.” No way am I quitting unless it’s in a bright room in public, surrounded by people. Not when he’s shaking me like a rag doll in the dark. “Please. I need to go home.”
    His eyes narrow in the dim light, and he releases me. Nerves make my hands sweat and my stomach churn. I don’t know what’s happening down here, but I know it’s not legal. A million really bad thoughts run through my mind, starting with the idea that he’s selling people and ending with the fact that there are people I didn’t know about in the basement, buying girls. “Is this the business proposition you had?”
    He laughs, releasing my shoulders. “No.”
    I want to run, but I can’t help but try to look back at the stage. “Is she okay?”
    “Of course.”
    “She didn’t look it, Bruno.”
    His dark eyes narrow. “Watch yourself, Ginger.”
    My gut drops, and I take a step back. “You always call me Emma.”
    “You’re going to go on stage, and we’re going to talk about this afterward.”
    “My stomach—”
    “You. Are. Going to go on stage, and we’ll talk about this later.”
    “Bruno,” I whisper, knowing I’m completely blocked in by him. Even if I could get by him, he has several of his security guys posted along my way out, and they’d stop me as soon as word of my escape bled through their earpieces. “You’re scaring me.”
    “I think we’ve both known from day one that I’m a scary motherfucker.”
    “Not to me, you’re