Save Him Free Preview

[Three Months Earlier...]

'Money or Fame?'

'Fame!'

It was the same set of questions. Same two friends. Todd and Ben. The rules were still the same too. Two choices. Pick an answer. No wasting time.

The only difference was they were now fifteen minutes away from their destination. The bus driver had just informed them of their ETA, pretty much the same way a pilot gives a weather update before making a descent.

She wouldn't have ordered the ham and cheese sandwich if she knew how close they were. She wasn't hungry anymore.

'Batman or Superman?'

Of course, now and then, they switched things up a bit and threw in a random question or two. It was the only way to pass the time without slitting each other's throats. Eight hours in a stiflingly hot bus was enough to turn anyone into a mass murderer.

To stay sane, she'd spent her eight hours on the game between the two friends across the aisle and the serial killer paperback she'd picked up on a whim at the bus station. A hundred pages in, she still had no idea where the missing women were.

'Why is that even a question? Batman any day!'

Obviously. Who wouldn't pick a guy with an arsenal of cool gadgets and luxury cars?

She liked Ben. He made smart choices. Most of the time.

'Money or Sex?'

The entire bus surged to life, and a few passengers drifting in and out of heat-induced sleep for a large part of the trip were wide awake again. This was their favourite part of the Todd & Ben Show.

She also sat up and casually glanced outside her window, pretending to be taken with the view of the skyscrapers rolling by. She'd been eavesdropping on their little game since they left Sparrow Beach, but she didn't want to make it so obvious.

Was it eavesdropping, though, if they were speaking so loudly?

'So? Money or Sex?'

It was the third time, maybe fourth, the question had come up. And Todd almost always picked money. He looked like he could use it too. Ben, though, was a wild card. She never knew what he'd choose. Sometimes he went for the money. Sometimes sex. He was a little fickle if you asked her. But who wasn't now and then?

'Sex, of course.'

'Dude. If you have money, you can have all the sex you want.'

She liked where Todd was going. Money got you lots of nice things. And she liked nice things. But sex wasn't high on the list of things she'd spend her money on. Todd would probably get all the sex he wanted and then some with his money.

'You don't need money to have sex. You only need a willing participant.'

Gosh, she was so torn now. She liked Ben's answer too. Consent was so sexy.

"What would you do?"

The question was so out of the blue that she didn't even think they were talking to her, so she continued staring at the scenery, zooming by.

"Hey, Tina Turner!"

Turning to the snapping sound of Ben's fingers as he tried to get her attention, she found two pairs of eyes on her—one as dark as the bark of an old tree, the other pale and calm like the ocean before a storm.

Did they know she was listening in and silently weighing in on their little game all this time?

"What would you do?"

"Me?" she ran a self-conscious hand through her mass of black curls, feeling a little triggered by the name-calling. Sure, Tina was iconic and all, but still—

"Yes, you," Ben nodded, slurping the last bit of his coffee, his red knockoff Spider-Man t-shirt straining over his ample gut. He squeezed the paper cup gleefully, rejoicing as it squeaked in his gigantic hand.

All wired up after his last cup of tepid coffee and unable to sit still, Todd bounced one leg. A big toothy grin spread across his face as he leaned across the seat and rested his chin on Ben's stomach, his eyes shining with expectation.

"Money or sex?" he asked again.

She stared at the cup in Ben's hand, fascinated by how he'd turned it into a tiny brown ball fitting snugly in his palm.

"So?" Todd pushed her for an answer. They were at an impasse and needed someone—her—to tip the scales. It didn't matter which way, just as long as she declared one of them a winner.

The question had come up several times over the past few hours, but she never thought about her response if she was ever presented with the choices. And now, they'd sucked her into their little game, and she had to choose. But she couldn't, so she stared at them, unable to decide.

"Come on. It's not complicated. Don't overthink this," said Ben, pushing Todd's head out of the way so he could rest his hands on his tummy, his interest in her response waning fast.

He was right. It wasn't complicated.

"Neither," she decided.

The duo turned to each other, confusion written on their faces. Her answer wasn't part of the script. But they weren't about to let her off the hook.

"Why not?"

She had to make a choice. Pick one. That was the game. Those were the rules.

"Because I don't want either."

They fell silent again for a moment, processing her response.

It seemed odd to them that someone in this entire universe didn't want money or sex.

She finished her ham and cheese sandwich and sipped her now-cold tea. It tasted exactly like the one she made at home. Hers didn't cost so much, though. But sometimes, when your world was suddenly turned on its head, it was nice to drink tea made by someone else, even if it was overpriced and served out of a flask by an unsmiling hostess.

"So, what do you want? There must be something you want. Everyone has something they want!"

The gears in Ben's head were slowly working again, already tweaking their game a little, perhaps adding her answer to the pool of possible choices. He was clearly the brains behind this operation.

Pulling into the depot, the bus screeched and shuddered, coming to a complete stop in the parking bay with one final groan.

Chaos erupted around them as passengers, eager to be reunited with their loved ones waiting in the sweltering heat, scrambled out of their seats and grabbed their bags.

Natalie reached for her luggage stowed in the compartment above her head, a trickle of sweat running down her back as she hauled it down and placed it in the empty seat beside her. The brown suitcase passed down through the years had seen better days and way more places than she had.

Turning to the mismatched couple she'd never see again, she announced. "A new kidney. That's what I want."

And it was her only reason for moving to Rock Union.

[Present day...]

"The results came back. It's just as we thought, Nat."

These weren't the words Natalie Taylor wanted to hear, and it certainly wasn't the news she'd expected.

"Jamie's's gonna need that new kidney soon."

She felt like a steam train had run her over, crushed her chest and squeezed all the air from her lungs as she struggled to breathe. Her fingers turned as rubbery as her legs, and her phone slipped out of her hands, whining as it crashed to the floor at her feet.

"Nat? Say something. Are you okay?"

Her sister's disembodied voice sounded muffled, as though it came from some far-off place. Natalie leaned over to grab the phone, wincing at the huge spiderweb crack on the screen. So much for tempered glass!

She brought the damaged iPhone to her ear, mumbling, "Sorry, I dropped my phone."

"I thought you fainted," Amber replied. "I was so worried."

Natalie ignored her concern as she swayed on her feet and held on to the wall to steady herself. She was very close to passing out.

"What does this mean for Jamie?" she asked, loathing the thin, terrified voice squeaking through her suddenly dry lips.

"He's on a waiting list. But we both know how long these lists are. There's a chance we could be donors."

Natalie smiled weakly, seeing a glimmer of hope for the first time since she picked up the call. "That's great! Let's do it, then. I'll come up this weekend, and we can get the ball rolling—"

"It's not that simple. For us to get tested, the costs are astronomical." Amber carried on in her quiet, calm voice.

Natalie inhaled slowly, swallowing down her frustration. Their little brother was fighting for his life, and their lives were a hot mess of note, but Amber was as cool as ever.

It was the one thing she could never understand about her sister—how she remained level-headed even when the situation didn't call for calmness.

"I don't know how to say this—"

"Just say it," Natalie said, forcing herself to be brave and face the truth head-on. But she was as afraid as she was at eight when she realised their father wasn't coming back. The last time she was this petrified was seven years ago when their mom suffered her final stroke.

"Jamie has to start dialysis soon. The doctors say it's the best treatment plan while we figure something out for the transplant."

"Dialysis is a good thing, right?"

"Yes," said Amber.

Sensing she was holding back stuff from her, Natalie pushed. "What are you not telling me?"

"We've already exhausted the funds in the medical aid on Jamie's in-hospital stays. My remaining savings will cover a few treatment sessions, but that's pretty much it."

There was a brief pause while Natalie tried to make sense of her sister's revelations and ignored the chatter and footsteps echoing in the corridor as her colleagues were swept away in the lunch-hour rush.

Her stomach rumbled as if on cue, reminding her in her mad dash to make it for the 6:00 AM bus to the Central Business District she'd skipped breakfast. Hungry as she was, she doubted she could eat anything after their call.

Amber continued, shattering the uncomfortable silence, "I know it's not fair to ask, especially since you're already doing so much for Jamie. But, are you able to give us a bit more?"

"Of course. Send me all the details," Natalie said, her mind already racing with plans and ways to raise the extra cash. She didn't know much about dialysis, but it sounded costly. After paying off her living expenses and sending money to Amber, the little left of her salary wouldn't cut it.

"Nat, he can't die. We promised Mom we'd look after him."

Her sister's pitiful sniffles five hundred kilometres away broke Natalie's heart. She would have given the last cent in her bank account if it meant Amber would stop crying.

"Listen to me, Jamie won't die. I'll get a second and third job if I have to. We'll figure something out," she promised.

"Thanks, Nat!"

Natalie hated cutting her sister off, but she had to return to work. "I have to go. I left my workstation unattended."

"Of course!" Amber said quickly on her end. "And I'm sorry I called you at work."

"Don't be. You did the right thing."

Natalie didn't leave the bathroom after they hung up. Her legs finally gave in, buckling under the crushing news she'd just received.

She sat on the toilet pan and hid her face in her hands, her hair floating around her in a thick cloud of black curls as she dissolved into a flood of tears.

The bathroom door screeched open, ushering in a stream of visitors. Toilets flushed. Taps gurgled as water gushed and splashed. The thunderous hum of the hand dryers drowned out the gossip and make-up tips.

In the safety and privacy of her stall, Natalie covered her mouth with her hand to block out her sobs, her slight shoulders quivering.

Minutes passed. The body-break rush eased and eventually slowed down. Engulfed by silence again, Natalie smoothed down her black pantsuit, dabbed her eyes with a wad of tissues and blew her nose.

Feeling more in control of her emotions, she left the stall, washed her hands and headed back to the office.

When her still-misty gaze fell on the photo on her desk, she immediately wanted to dash back to the bathroom and bawl her eyes out again.

It was the only personal item she had in her little cubicle, the only thing that made this place less lonely.

Having faced her fair share of layoffs in the past, Natalie had learned early in her short career as an office administrator not to turn her workstation into a second home. The fewer personal items she had, the easier it would be to pack up and move on when the time came.

The photo was her most treasured possession. One of the few she had of everyone together and the last they ever took with their mom. Almost a year later, they'd buried her next to the father Natalie barely knew.

Had she known it would be the last photo they'd ever take as a family, she would have smiled more, held her mom's hand even longer, and maybe dropped a kiss or two on her cheek.

Tears still brimming in her eyes, Natalie picked up the black metal frame and traced her fingers on the glass, marvelling at how happy they were. Even the colours looked more vibrant too.

Memory was such a weird thing. She remembered the day and how excited they all were. But not what the photographer wore, the weather outside, or the background music while they waited to take their first-ever family portrait.

"Mom, what do I do?" she asked the ghosts of their former selves trapped in time in the photo.

Now that she was back to her senses, Natalie realised she'd made promises she couldn't keep. Could she honestly get a second job when her first one kept her busy enough as it was?

Still troubled by her sister's call, she forced herself to put the photograph and her money problems aside and focus on her work. Turning to her laptop, she picked up where she'd left off before her unplanned break.

She was so engrossed in her report that she didn't notice her colleagues shuffling in from their lunch break. She only looked up from her screen when Emily placed a steaming red latte on her desk.

"Marry me, please?" Natalie said, taking a sip from the colourful paper cup. She closed her eyes, relishing the honeyed tea swirling in her mouth.

She was an instant coffee kind of girl. But she'd never turn up her nose at red lattes from Rise, the coffee shop across the street. They made the best, not surprisingly, since they had franchises all over the country.

"I figured you'd need it when you skipped lunch," Emily said, sitting at her desk. She was twenty minutes late but in no hurry to start on her reports.

She scratched through her designer bag and fished out a cute compact case, grumbling about her 'terrible' skin while she retouched her make-up.

It annoyed the shit out of Natalie when pretty girls moaned about being ugly. Or when skinny ones claimed to be fat. But with Emily, she wasn't offended. Not as much, at least.

Tall and slim, with big green eyes and flaming-red hair, Emily looked like she belonged on the cover of Vogue. Her looks alone were enough to make any woman want to hate her. But her sweet disposition endeared her to everyone who knew her. She was a girls' gal and any man's dream.

"So, where did you go?" she asked, returning the make-up kit inside her bag.

"I had to take a call," Natalie said, avoiding her friend's gaze because if she saw pity in her eyes, she'd fall apart again. "Jamie's results came back. It's just as we thought. His kidneys are failing."

"Oh, Nat, I'm so sorry!" Emily pulled her close and squeezed her hard. "Anything I can do to help?"

Natalie shook her head, her lower lip quivering, a clear sign the waterworks weren't too far off. "Not unless you have a hundred grand stashed away somewhere."

"Well," Emily had a thoughtful look in her eyes as she tapped her long, blush-pink nails on her desk. "I might be able to help. Let's chat later."

Natalie didn't think her friend would have that kind of money, but she nodded anyway.

"Will you be alright? You don't want to take a half-day?"

"Nah, I'll be fine," Natalie replied with an award-winning smile.

"You know, you can talk to me, right? I may not look like it, but people tell me I'm as good as a therapist sans the crazy hourly rates!"

Natalie couldn't help but laugh at her nonsense. It was so like Emily, though, to make her feel better without even trying.

"Good, you laughed! I was starting to think I'll have to call in the clowns or something."

"Right!" Natalie smiled and turned back to her screen.

Promptly at 3:00 PM, Emily stood up and knocked on Natalie's desk. "It's drink o'clock. Are you coming?"

"Oh, shoot! I forgot it's today," she groaned, mussing up her hair. "And I'm so overdressed for the occasion!"

Emily saw right through her and called her out.

"Natalie Taylor! I know you're not trying to leave me with all these animals!" She pointed at their colleagues still gathered in the office. They'd all planned to go for drinks after work.

"Great, you caught me! Now what?" Natalie held up her hands in feigned surrender.

"You are so cute!" Smiling, Emily grabbed their bags, took her hand and led her out of the office, not giving her a chance to bail on her.

Saints was already buzzing with the usual Monday afternoon rowdiness when they arrived. The place was packed, and not just from their colleagues. The bar was a crowd-puller every day—except Sundays because it was closed—attracting an impressive number of patrons from the big five banks and several tech startups in the Central Business District.

Natalie clutched Emily's hand, squeezing through the mass of sweaty but smartly-dressed drunken bodies as they made their way to a miraculously free corner booth near the restrooms.

"What do you want to drink?" Emily yelled over the blaring music, a catchy tune from last summer but still played to death on all the radio stations.

"I'll have a margarita!" Natalie shouted back.

Emily said something about hopping over to the bar to get their drinks. Natalie waved her off and checked her emails but quickly closed them when she saw too many zeros in the quote from Amber. There was no way she could afford that on her salary.

To her relief, Lennie, the owner, or maybe one of the waitresses, changed the music to something soft and sultry. She relaxed in her seat, glad she and Emily wouldn't have to spend the afternoon yelling just to hear each other.

Her friend returned moments later with three glasses of happiness and set them down on the table before taking her place on the other end of the booth. "One margarita for you and two cosmos for me."

Natalie smiled as she watched her guzzle her first drink in one go. "Were you that thirsty?"

"You have no idea," Emily laughed and picked up the second glass.

Natalie stared at her with mild horror, convinced she'd gulp it down also. Surprisingly, Emily simply held it in her hand and twirled it side to side as she appraised her from beneath her long fake lashes.

"I might have a solution to your problem."

Intrigued by the announcement, Natalie leaned forward in her seat with her chin in her hands. She liked solutions, and after seeing all the zeros on the cost estimate for her brother's dialysis treatment, she'd need plenty. "I'll do anything as long as it's legal."

"I'm glad you said that," Emily nodded as she pulled out her phone, her slender fingers softly tapping the screen as she swiped up and down. "Here you go—Dreams."

"That's where you moonlight, right?" asked Natalie.

She didn't know much about websites, but Dreams looked sleek and high profile. Nothing like the banner ads she'd seen on the internet for escort services.

"Yeah, it's a great place. The pay's good too!" Emily sipped her cocktail and allowed her eyes to feast on a guy with shoulder-length dreadlocks—a true definition of tall, dark and handsome—as he made his way to the dartboard with his crew.

Natalie laughed at the ridiculousness of the site's name and her friend's undeniable interest in the tall stranger.

"Couldn't they come up with a better name, though?"

"Well, technically, they are fulfilling everyone's dreams, the clients' and the companions'," Emily replied, her gaze still on the guy. She was practically drooling over him, and Natalie had to intervene.

She waved her hand in front of Emily's face to get her attention. "That's what they call them, companions?"

"Sorry, Nat," she smiled sheepishly as she sat straight and focused on their chat. "Wealthy people don't like people to know they use escorts, and it doesn't matter how classy the establishment is. So, companions, it is."

Natalie fidgeted in her seat and twirled a lock of black curly hair around her finger as she stared glumly at her untouched margarita. She should have headed home and sent out her CV instead of sitting here, contemplating what was undoubtedly a ridiculous idea. If she knew Emily's sure-fire solution was escorting, she wouldn't have gotten her hopes up.

"Do you want to check it out?"

Without waiting for her response, Emily gave her a quick site tour on her phone.

"Where are all the companions and the clients?" Natalie asked. She'd expected to see them all on display, like in a police lineup.

"The clients see the gallery with all the companions, and we get matched according to their requirements," Emily explained. "So, do you want to try it?"

"I don't know," Natalie sipped her margarita, relishing the strong kick of the tequila as it hit the back of her throat. "What's the money like?"

"Depending on your comfort level, you could make as much as thirty, forty thousand a night."

"That much?" Natalie could see rand signs swimming in front of her eyes. Her two months' salary in one night? Now that was...Promising?

"Huge disclaimer, though," Emily continued as she drained her second glass and set it down. "Sometimes, clients have weird preferences, and there's always a chance you'll find yourself in a situation you never anticipated. Callouts are the scariest because nothing is in your control."

"Why do you still do it?" Natalie struggled to understand why anyone would gamble with their life like that and carry on with the risk longer than they had to. "You've made enough money; you have a car and an apartment."

Plus, Emily lived in Rock Castle—the right side of town.

"I want more than a car and a nice apartment. I want to travel and see the world, fuck a random stranger in Greece, swim with the whales in Cape Town, and bungee jump off the Himalayas. Natalie, there's so much I haven't done and still want to do, and Dreams will pay for all my adventures."

"But you get paid to have sex."

"So?" Emily shrugged. "Some people hate having sex with their spouses, and they don't even get paid for it. I don't see why I can't make money from something I love."

Fair enough, Natalie thought. But she was having a hard time understanding her friend's attitude. She wasn't a prude by any stretch. But sex was sacred to her, an act she wanted to perform only with someone she shared an emotional connection with. On the other hand, Emily saw it as a means to an end. Something to be used as a commodity. A way to assert power and control over her life.

"Look, Nat, escorting isn't for everyone. But it works for me. I get to do what I want, when I want, and with whomever I want. At the end of the day or night, I take home a nice money bag and don't answer to anyone. It doesn't get better than that."

"But, what if you meet someone and fall in love?"

"Gosh, you're so cute! You still believe in love!" Emily laughed and flicked her hair over her shoulder. "Anyway, I'm always careful that my real life never collides with my moonlighting. We never use our real identities on the job, and of course, a disguise is always recommended but not a must."

"What happens if you meet someone you know in real life on the job?"

"I've been doing this since I was twenty on and off, and I guess I've been lucky I've never met any of my clients outside of Dreams," Emily said, slipping her phone back into her bag. "I'll send you the link, and you can decide whether you want to do it. You can't access the site without a referral. Check it out, and sign up if you want to. If you don't want to, we'll figure something out for Jamie."

Natalie nodded absently, her attention now on a group of guys wrangling over the pool table. Any second now, one of them would say something stupid, a fight would break out, and Lennie would chase everyone away.

She was right.

A testosterone-fuelled brawl broke out not even ten minutes later between the group. Screams pierced the room, bottles and chairs flew over their heads, and Natalie grabbed her stuff. She had seen enough. She had CVs to send out.

Emily wanted to stay and watch the drama. Natalie hugged her quickly and headed out.

She broke into a light trot as she circled back to the office to catch the 4:00 PM bus home.

The forty-minute ride turned into a two-hour trip because a Van Holt Industries freight truck had jackknifed, and the highway had to be closed for a while.

By the time Natalie got to her flat in Beacon Hill in the south, she was cranky, sweaty and generally miserable. She took a quick shower and whipped up something to eat.

As she made a cheese and ham sandwich and a cup of black coffee, she looked around the open-plan living space and tried to see her apartment through a stranger's eyes—through Emily's eyes.

And what she saw filled her with despair.

The ugly grey walls could do with a new coat of paint. The second-hand furniture left by the previous tenant belonged in the nearest dumpster. The appliances were old and faulty, and every time Natalie used the stove and microwave, she ran the risk of electrocution.

But, as shabby as it was, this dump was her home for the past three months, her tiny piece of Rock Union. She'd wanted to do more with it when she had enough money. But now, with Jamie's medical expenses, her new couch and wallpaper had to slip further down her bucket list.

She sat at the rickety round dining table, pushed her sandwich and coffee to one side, and pulled her laptop closer to crunch the numbers.

Jamie's annual treatment at a private facility would cost around a hundred thousand rands. If they were lucky to be donors, they'd need another hundred and fifty at the very least for the surgery and other costs.

Natalie hated, hated asking people for money. But even if she managed to get a second and third job, it would still take her at least five years to save half of what they needed.

Jamie didn't have five years.

With a goal in mind, Natalie set up a fundraiser page, and as she wrote Jamie's bio and motivation for the fund, she thought back to when she had to write her mother's obituary. It was the same feelings of sadness, grief, and heartache but different circumstances. One was a celebration of life after her mother passed away, and the other was a motivation for her brother to live.

When she was done setting up the fundraiser page, Natalie searched for her second dream job.

Not many places were hiring. The recession had forced hundreds of businesses to close. But Saints was an option. When she left the place earlier, she'd seen an ad for a waitress on the community board.

The salary was probably way below her expectations, and she didn't have any waitressing experience, but she sent her application through anyway. She was a quick learner; she'd be bussing tables in no time.

With her job search complete for the night, Natalie closed her laptop and went to bed. The used cup and plate, tomorrow's problem.

Levi Van Holt ran on autopilot for fourteen hours, fuelled by the strongest coffee he could find at various layovers. But he crashed almost immediately under a wave of exhaustion when he reached his office.

For a minute or maybe longer, he remained in his seat in the back of the Uber, unable to move, dreading the night ahead.

"Sir, are we at the right place?" Eyebrow raised, the driver turned in his seat.

"Yes. Thank you," Levi said as he gathered his messenger bag and luggage and gave the man a generous tip before he slipped out of the car.

The ground floor was ablaze with lights, but the rest of the building sat in darkness.

Levi trudged to the entrance, his eyes droopy, his shoulders sagged. If someone told him they'd hidden a body in his duffel bag, he'd believe them. But nothing in there would interest law enforcement other than several outfits and shoes. So he couldn't understand why it was so heavy.

He stopped to chat with the security guard in the lobby.

The older man beamed with pride when he talked about his children. His eldest would be off to varsity in a couple of months, and his youngest had recently started high school.

"If we can help in any way, Sol, don't hesitate to ask."

"You've done a lot for us by paying their school fees all these years, Mr Van Holt. Anything over and above that, we'd be taking advantage of you."

Levi nodded and smiled. "If you change your mind."

"Certainly, sir." Solomon took his hand and squeezed it.

They spent a few more minutes comparing notes on the quarter-finals last night.

A loyal Sun Downs supporter, Solomon was still reeling over his team's shocking elimination from the league. The odds were stacked against them, though, as soon as their opponents scored two goals ten minutes into the first half. He quit watching the match when it became clear they would not go to the semi-finals.

The game was low stakes for Levi since his team wasn't playing, so he'd stayed glued to the TV in his hotel room for ninety minutes, overindulging in beers and potato chips.

"It's wonderful to see you again, Sol," said Levi as he called the elevator to the tenth floor.

"You too, sir, and welcome home. It's good to have you back," the security guard replied as he returned to his comfy seat.

While he waited for the elevator, Levi narrowed his wide-set grey eyes to slits as he took in his surroundings. He was happy the place was still in one piece. But Mark Turner—his best friend, business partner, and chief financial officer—had gone overboard with the office makeover.

The only familiar item in the lobby was the studio's logo flashing behind the marble reception desk.

Everything else was new—from the colourful armchairs and two three-seaters in the waiting area to the massive abstract mural taking up the opposite wall. The bright rug and the glass coffee table were also recent additions.

When his partner suggested a few office improvements, Levi agreed, even though they weren't necessary. But now, confronted by all this newness, he should have asked about the cost instead of trusting Mark to make sound financial decisions in his absence.

The makeover wouldn't break their bank balance. But Levi would have preferred to use the money on something worthwhile, like the end-of-year bonuses for staff.

He shuffled inside the elevator, and as it sped to his floor, he did his best to avoid eye contact with his reflection. But his face in the mirror walls followed him everywhere, reminding him that he needed at least 24 hours of uninterrupted sleep, a shave, and a haircut, not necessarily in that order.

His hair had grown very long over the past several weeks. The beard, too, was now an intolerable length. The longest he'd kept one was for the Movember challenge the year before. He'd broken his own record. He was now going on two months, and it itched like crazy.

Happy he was alone, Levi gave in to the urge and scratched his chin, groaning with relief when the tingling subsided.

The motion sensor lights flickered on one after the other when he stepped out of the elevator and plodded down the hallway, the long shadow on the wall his only company. His Vans squeaking on the smooth floors with every step he took amplified the silence around him.

The stuffy heat hit Levi as soon as he opened his office door, but he didn't mind. He was thrilled to be home and even happier that Mark's renovations hadn't made it up here. Everything was still exactly as it was when he left.

He inhaled deeply, appreciating the familiar smells as he dropped his luggage just inside the door, removed his messenger bag and jacket and dumped them on the couch.

He pushed up the sleeves of his black t-shirt and waltzed over to his desk. Expecting a thick film of dust, he was pleasantly surprised when he ran a finger on the glass top and found it clean. His assistant had done a good job taking care of the office. Not so much at arranging the files, though. He preferred them colour coded according to priority. Green at the bottom and red at the top. Not this jumbled mess.

But the files were tomorrow's problem.

He pulled out his phone and checked the time.

12:50 AM.

Grateful he still had a few minutes to collect himself, he poured two stiff drinks, sat on the sofa in front of the bar, and waited.

At 1:00 AM on the dot, the private investigator knocked on his door, and Levi invited him inside, pleased he was punctual. Tardiness was high up on the long list of things he hated.

They'd never met in person because Mark hired him while Levi was gone. But they'd talked on the phone a few times, and he had always imagined a burly man in dark shades and a trench coat.

He was way off the mark. Seth was none of that.

He didn't have a potbelly and thinning hair, and his gruff voice didn't fit his tall, scrawny frame clad in blue jeans and a white Rock Union University hoody. He looked so young he could have easily passed for a high school senior. His dark eyes, though, behind round rimless glasses, held a maturity and sincerity Levi found comforting.

They shook hands and exchanged names.

Levi offered him one of the glasses.

Seth declined, explaining he didn't drink. He didn't give reasons, and Levi didn't ask. Instead, he pulled out a bottle of still water from the bar fridge and handed it to him.

"Thanks," said Seth as he took it and turned on his laptop.

"What did you find?" Levi asked.

The PI slid the laptop across the smooth glass coffee table, and a thick, uncomfortable knot settled in Levi's stomach the longer he scanned the report.

Mild intrigue flitted in his eyes as he surfed through Colleen's digital footprint. All the places she'd visited included the usual online shopping sites, social media pages, animal shelters, women's organisations, and thousands of search results on various topics and forums—things Levi assumed were typical for a twenty-eight-year-old woman.

One site, though, stood out.

Dreams.

Colleen visited the place over a thousand times in the weeks leading up to her disappearance and a ton more before that.

Dreading what he'd find, Levi opened the link, an audible sigh of relief shooting through his suddenly parched mouth when he got a 404 error.

Maybe this was a sign he should stop here, suspend the search, and pray Colleen would resurface like she'd always done in the past after vanishing for a few weeks.

Despite what his head told him, Levi knew in his heart that this time was different. It wasn't just a few days or a few weeks. It was going on—

"The site is by invite only," Seth explained, breaking through his thoughts. "Each user has a unique link and code. It doesn't work when forwarded or accessed from an unsecured network."

A sliver of ice slithered up Levi's spine as his heart dropped to his feet at Seth's announcement. With trembling hands, he slid the MacBook back at the PI and finished both drinks.

Not for the first time since Colleen's disappearance, Levi wondered what sort of trouble she'd gotten herself in.

"Do you know anything about this place?" He got up, massaged his eyes and stretched, his stiff joints creaking with every movement. He desperately needed to catch up on sleep.

"They specialise in companion services."

"You mean escort services?" Levi corrected him as he paced the room, pausing in front of the window wall behind his desk. He was a straight shooter, never minced his words or skirted around an issue.

His shoulders drooping and his eyes glued to the floor, Seth appeared to be at a loss for words and unsure how to tell him the truth, finally whispering, "I'm sorry."

Levi shrugged off his apology and gazed unseeingly at the night sky beyond the glass. It wasn't Seth's fault that Colleen had made stupid choices.

"The parent company is The Corporation," Seth announced.

"You mean Rock Castle's underworld?" Levi corrected him again.

It didn't matter if they chose to call themselves the mob or went with the more professional name. They were still a criminal organisation. One Levi always hoped and prayed he never had to get entangled with.

"Their client base is a network of uber-wealthy, powerful men and women. Doctors, lawyers, CEOs, financiers, hoteliers and politicians, and they are all associates of the Ivanovs— directly or indirectly," Seth continued.

Levi wasn't surprised that Andrei and Aleksei Ivanov, heirs to Aero Shipping, one of the largest logistics companies in the country, had their hands in Dreams. After all, everyone had long suspected they dabbled in prostitution.

What was stunning, though, and perhaps the hardest pill to swallow, was that Colleen was somehow involved.

As if he could read his thoughts, Seth tried to ease his fears. "It's unclear at this point if she was a client or—"

Levi's back and shoulders stiffened as he turned back from the window. He didn't like the 'or' part of Seth's explanation, the unspoken words and loaded suspicions. He hated the pitiful look in his eyes even more.

He expelled a long, shaky breath. "I need to access Dreams."

"You mean as a client?"

"Is there any other way?"

There wasn't.

Seth closed his laptop and shook Levi's hand again, promising to have his Dreams profile within a week.

"Why so long?"

It turned out that creating a believable internet identity took more than a couple of hours.

After seeing Seth off, Levi returned to the sofa and pulled out his phone. It was late, and his parents should have been sleeping. But he knew they were waiting anxiously to hear from him.

The dreaded phone call turned into one of their ugliest fights when Levi informed his parents he had nothing new to report.

"What do you mean you didn't find her? What the hell were you doing for the last three months? No doubt fucking random whores in shady hotels. You were always irresponsible. You only had one job, Levi—to find your sister!" Charles Leviticus Van Holt Senior went berserk on him, accusing him of all sorts of crazy things, including being the most incompetent son in the world.

Levi couldn't say he was surprised. Colleen was always the favourite child. A true daddy's little girl who could do no wrong in their father's eyes.

She was the impulsive and reckless one of the two of them. But for some inexplicable reason, her disappearances always fell squarely on Levi's shoulders.

Cynthia Strauss, his mom, tried to defend him, but Leviticus quickly shot her down, not giving her a chance to get a word in edgewise. Nobody could talk any sense into him when he was in one of his unreasonable moods.

Seething at his father's harsh tone, Levi sat down and held the phone away from him.

Sure, he was not the most responsible person he knew, and he certainly wouldn't be nominated for the 'Best Son In The World' award if it ever became a thing at the Oscars. But for his father to accuse him of neglecting his brotherly duties when all he'd done for six months was pour his time and energy into finding his twin was uncalled for.

"Father, I think we should talk some other time." Levi gritted his teeth, a sheet of red-hot anger flashing behind his eyelids. "I can't have an adult conversation with you when you keep talking to me like I'm a two-year-old. If you can't be respectful, I'm hanging up."

Arrogant to a maddening degree and as stubborn as a bull, his father saw nothing wrong with his actions. He almost popped a vein at Levi's audacity for calling him out on his disrespectful attitude.

So for the longest fifteen minutes of his life, Levi sat there and listened to him rant and rave about how he would personally search for his only daughter and do a bloody good job of bringing her home. But as the CEO of one of the largest hospitality groups in the country, he couldn't take time off, and that was his reason for assembling a highly specialised team to find Colleen.

Levi was tempted to remind him that his highly specialised team had done shit for six months except steal millions from him. But he swallowed his caustic response with a quick swoosh of whiskey down his throat. The animosity between them was bad enough. It didn't need any accelerant to keep that fire raging.

The coffee table lined with months-old tech magazines swirled in front of him as a dull pang throbbed between his eyes. He had clearly reached his limit. But he was never a quitter, so he placed his parents on speaker and finished his drink.

"—And you call yourself her older brother?"

That one minute of seniority was a tremendous responsibility Levi was never allowed to forget.

"How could you not figure out she's in trouble?" his father asked as they once again found themselves at the all too familiar place, where accusations, blame, and guilt collided into an endless spiral of resentment.

Levi had lost track of the number of times they'd found themselves at this juncture over the past several weeks.

His father didn't understand how his 'twin radar' was so far off the mark.

And Levi, while he pinched the bridge of his nose and slowly massaged away the mild beginnings of a tension headache, struggled to explain to him that his bond with Colleen wasn't some telepathic ability he could turn on and off.

But as he prepared to pour himself his third shot, he was starting to believe everyone was right. He should've sensed his twin was in bad shape.

There were tell-tale signs, things he hadn't shared with his parents.

Levi had asked—No— He'd demanded the bastard's name. But, his twin had refused to open up, insisting the bruises and marks all over her arms and face were from her boxing class.

He'd been through his fair share of bar brawls and knew a beating when he saw one, so he never believed a word she said.

Someone had roughed her up.

It could have been a boyfriend.

Or a client, now that he knew of her connection to Dreams.

No—Levi shook his head. It wasn't confirmed yet his twin was an escort, and his lack of proper intel on her entanglement with the escort agency was the only reason he'd decided to keep this latest development from his parents.

"I'm sorry," Levi apologised like he'd done countless times in the past at this point in the call.

"For what exactly this time?" His father demanded on his side, his breathing hard and heavy.

A lot, Levi thought, but he didn't voice his regrets. He doubted his father would even care.

He was sorry for a lot of things, though, like how he should have tried harder to reach Colleen, more so in the months leading up to her disappearance. But he was so consumed with the new game that keeping up with his twin and friends, in general, became less of a priority.

His father broke through his million regrets and voiced his disappointment like he'd always done. "You've failed your sister and let me down like you always do!"

And it didn't take long for him to bring up Levi's past screw-ups, starting with how he flunked his first year of business school.

His father had big dreams for him, but Levi had smashed his heart to pieces when he pursued a career in programming and built his startup instead of taking over Van Holt Industries.

His resentment had run so deep that he never came to support him when he launched Chassis Studios with Mark at the impressive age of twenty-three.

"I'm sorry we can't all be perfect like you!" Levi said, but his sarcasm was lost on his father.

"I don't need your apology! Find your sister, I don't care what you do, but you need to find her fast! Quit your job and put that stupid company of yours on the market if you have to! But I want your twin found!"

Absolutely not, Levi bristled. He'd die first before even dreaming of giving up on Chassis. He'd poured his blood, sweat and tears into making it the fastest-growing game development studio in Rock Union.

"I won't quit my job or sell my company!" he informed him, his voice as cold as his hatred for the man.

"But I'll keep searching for Leeny," he added quickly before his father could lose his crap again.

Taking any more time off was out of the question, though. As CEO, he had to lead by example. He'd neglected his duties long enough. Besides, three months was the longest he was allowed to take, and he'd already exhausted all his time off with his fruitless 'sabbatical'.

"Good! See that you do!"

With that, Senior excused himself from the call. He still had an even bigger fire to put out. One of the group's freight trucks had jackknifed on the M1 earlier in the day and lost its load, causing a ten-car pile-up. It was the worst road accident in the history of the company.

The last time Levi checked the news during his flight home from following up on yet another sighting of his sister—this time in Berlin—loss of life had stood at twenty-five.

"Honey—"

Levi relaxed at the sound of his mom's voice. He sprawled out on the couch and rested his head on the armrest. Lying down seemed to be just the cure for his headache. He felt so much better already.

"He didn't mean any of it. He's dealing with a lot at the moment. The shareholders have been giving him a hard time. They think the company is not evolving and innovating fast enough. They want new blood."

Levi understood what she meant by 'new blood', so he ignored her. He'd made it clear to all concerned that he wanted no part of the family fortune, and it wasn't only because of the rift with his father. He had no interest in the hospitality industry; it would be unfair and a great disservice to lead the group when his heart wasn't in it.

"And now this terrible accident," his mom carried on with her futile attempt to smooth things over. "Give him time. He's under a lot of stress."

Levi smiled, a little sad to see that even though he'd been gone for three months, a lot hadn't changed, especially his mom's knack for making excuses for his father.

"Mom, he's an asshole!"

"Levi, you can't say that. He's worried about your sister. But he can't do much to help with the search since he's fighting to keep his position as CEO."

"It says a lot about his priorities as a father, don't you think?"

His mom brushed off his comment, blew her nose, and wailed. "Do you think Leeny's still alive? Why haven't we heard from her? Where is she?"

"She'll be back. You know her. She's probably swimming with the whales somewhere," Levi lied. His twin radar may be malfunctioning, but nothing would stop his little sister from reaching out to him if she was fine.

"What if she's not? What if something terrible happened to her? I'm telling you something bad has happened to her. I can't sense her anywhere. Call it a mother's intuition."

"Mom, don't think like that, okay?" Levi said gently and coached her through her anxiety which could easily spiral into a full-blown panic attack if he didn't rein it in quickly. "Now, take deep, slow breaths. Hold for five seconds. And release. Nice and slow."

All Levi heard for a little while was the sound of his mom's shaky breathing as she followed his instructions and let his voice guide her out of her distress.

When she spoke again, she almost sounded like her usual composed self. "How are you doing, honey? Still seeing that girl, Chloe-What's-Her-Name?"

No, Chloe Lennard left him the first chance she got. She wouldn't stick around for his bullshit.

As the hottest new thing to hit the world of lingerie modelling, she had millions of fans ready and willing to make her their number one priority. She was way too gorgeous to compete with Chassis Studios for his time.

The last time Levi checked, she was fucking Julian, Liam Anderson's cousin and one of the heirs to the Anderson Logistics fortune.

Barely able to keep his eyes open and his speech more than a little slurred now, he informed his mom, "we broke up."

"I'm sorry, honey. The right woman will come along."

"Sure," he mumbled, but he wasn't holding his breath. Not with his track record of shitty relationships. Besides, his life was already complicated enough with trying to find Colleen.

He hung up after promising his mom he'd check in daily.

He'd talk with her ten times a day, any day. His father, on the other hand, was a different story. The less they spoke, the better.