Chapter 8. In the Penthouse

Proserpina

We entered a small cage-like elevator hidden by heavy red drapes that whisked us upstairs. All the while the man kept me imprisoned, his large hand trapping my arm painfully behind my back and I breathed shakily. I glanced fearfully at the man and his companions, with their blank faces, who were behaving as though it was normal for their boss to whisk a girl into an elevator and drag her to some unknown destination.

Suddenly, we were upstairs and I blinked, completely disoriented by the change of scene. The entire corridor we had emerged into, was carpeted richly, in dull browns and maroon, the wood-panelled walls giving it a classy finish. Doors led off from the corridor but every wooden door was shut. The silence was also a sophisticated one, I thought hysterically as he dragged me along.

It was entirely different from the raw, almost violent atmosphere of the large fighting club we had just left. The sights, the smells of that virile,