His Indulgence || Book Two

Louis

Alessandra's POV:

At the end of my fifteen minutes, I walked out of the dancing crowd and toward the lounge area, scanning each area around me. Eric was nowhere to be found on the dance floor, he must've been elsewhere.

There had been waves of tables, and the further away from the dance floor, the more prestige it was. There had to have been at least a dozen elite VIP booths lined up against the wall, each guarded with security and a red, velvet stanchion rope. Knowing Eric, he had to have picked one of these areas.

One quick time check made me realize I only had a few minutes before having to meet with Danica once again.

Deciding that a few extra minutes won't hurt, I shuffled toward the VIP sections and skimmed by them. The poor lighting made it incredibly hard to recognize who had been in each booth.

Each silhouette had an unrecognizable frame, so I had no interest in investigating further. Coming towards the last few booths, I skidded to a stop in front of one.

Even in the darkest light, I was able to identify my brother. He was lounging back with a glass of alcohol in his hand but didn't notice me.

Then, I realized why he couldn't. He was surrounded by touchy girls in lingerie, rubbing their hands all over him.

"Eric!" I called out, over the bodyguard that had been blocking the entrance. Eric didn't look up, he was clearly busy entranced by the women, and the loud music didn't help either. I hollered out to him one more time, and this time his gaze and chin lifted.

When his eyes met mine, I seen the playfulness drain from his eyes, he was completely dismayed. In a few seconds, he shoved aside the girl off his lap and the others in his way and moved towards me.

"Can I come in?" I questioned, still shouting over the guard.

"Let her in," he stated to the huge man, and the man stepped aside.

When getting in such close distance to him, I internally collapsed in horror. Eric was nearly unrecognizable.

His complexion was pasty, eyes ghostlike, and his soul was deserted. Most importantly, he was wretched and monstrous. Any and every bit of humanity in him was now far gone. He was much, much worse than I had ever imagined.

"What the hell happened to you?" I managed to spit out, unable to stop staring. The more I looked, the more damage I'd see.

With a stoic face, he stared down at me with cold, unfriendly eyes. "The better question is— why are you following me? Surely you didn't come halfway across the world to know how I'm doing."

"Can we discuss this somewhere more private?" I glanced around, meeting the surrounding faces of the half-undressed women in the booth.

When scanning around the booth, my eyes instantly fell onto the ashtray on the lounge table. Countless of cigarette buds had been smashed in, and I could smell that same distinct odor from Eric's breath. A pit in my stomach began to well when the situation sank in. He had relapsed into smoking.

"What do you want? I was clearly in the middle of something." Eric used his eyes to beckon the women.

"Dad's in trouble," I decided to be blunt and harsh, "We need to help him before it's too late."

The news caught him off guard, and the delay in his response indicated his worry. Despite this, he regained composure quickly and just shrugged.

He swallowed and got rigid, in an unsympathetic tone, "Well, that's tragic. But there's nothing I can do."