Brian hated my, as he called them, whorish dresses. Whenever a guy looked my way when we were out partying, he threw a fit. On bad nights, he yelled at me until I agreed to go home just so that he would calm down. At least I don’t have to worry about his fragile ego anymore.
Three pairs of high heels land behind me on the wooden floor with a thud before I decide that even an act has limits. I’m not going to walk down an unpaved road in goddamn stilettos. I pull a pair of boots out of my closet when I’m suddenly interrupted by a knock on my door.
Hastily, I put on a bathrobe and kick the three discarded pairs of heels under my couch before I open the door.
I’m greeted by a black shirt and I have to take a step back to see the face of who I assume is my new bodyguard. All this hassle, only to see a black balaclava where his face should be.
Ridiculous.
It would be kind of hot in other circumstances, but right now, it’s just ridiculous. I wonder if that’s his personal shtick or if my father instructed him to do this.
“Where did he find you? Did the men in black reject you?”
“You must be Ruby,” he says, and it’s impressive how judgmental someone can look at you when the only thing you can see are eyes.
The disdain that drips from his voice is mutual. Something about him pisses me off. I don’t know if it’s the mask or the way he’s looking at me, as if I’m a cockroach that ran over his dinner. My mood hadn’t been the best the past few days, and so far, he’s not improving it.
I take a step back from the door, raising my eyebrows as I look him up and down. I take my time, eye him like he’s afucking horse I contemplate buying, and he apparently doesn’t like this at all.
He makes himself even bigger until the whole doorway seems to be filled with his broad body. If he wants to appear intimidating, he needs to try harder.
“Don’t even try to start with this attitude. Behave, don’t get on my nerves, and we won’t have a problem.”
I scoff and slam the door shut right in front of his face.
“Don’t even start with this attitude,”I repeat mockingly as I wait for him to leave. He keeps on standing in front of my door, but as I turn my TV back on, I hear his footsteps in the hallway, followed by the sound of a door that’s being closed.
I don’t like it when people try to tell me what to do. Maybe because I spent most of my life as a marionette for my father, and then for Brian, until I decided I had enough. And I won’t start being all nice and quiet and compliant for the gorilla next door.
Half an hour later, I deem it safe enough to start my escape. I fill a bit of corn and seeds into a ziplock bag that I put in my purse. I can’t come to the park empty handed.
The boots were the right decision, even though the dress doesn’t make the descent from the second floor any easier. It’s still manageable because of the dumb design elements my father picked out. He shouldn’t have decided on stuff that could be used as a makeshift ladder if he didn’t want me to sneak out.
The headlights of Dom’s car lighten up behind the gate as he sees me walking towards him. He knows the code, but I told him not to drive onto the property tonight. I don’t know how attentive the new bodyguard is, and I don’t want to alarm him when he hears a car in the driveway.
With the sun already setting, it is beautiful out here. Quiet and green, and I love this side of Eden Hills. It makes for apretty prison yard. I feel like I’m finally able to breathe again after a week of being in constant fight-or-flight mode.
But a huge hand on the back of my neck ruins my mood in a matter of seconds. Whoever it is, is squeezing slightly, not enough to hurt me, but hard enough to clarify that bolting off isn’t an option.
“You’re fired.” I try to remember some self-defense moves, but the only thing I can think of is smashing my elbow into the figure behind me. The result is nothing but an annoyed groan from my captor.
“You can’t fire me. And you’re not allowed to leave the house,” he says while he shoves me back towards the house.
I can’t understand how he caught me so quickly, because my method of running off usually works without fail. Either that or the other bodyguards just didn’t give a shit.
He must have watched me from his own window. Who the hell takes their job this seriously? I bet he’d like to watch me sleep and attach an ankle monitor to my leg. Fucking nutcase.
“I have rights, you can’t force me to stay in there.” My tone is more whiny than I’d like it to be. The last few days were hard on my nerves and I’m unable to hide it.
“Your rights end where my orders begin and your father explicitly stated that you are not permitted to leave the house, so you will stay the fuck in there.”
Something about him makes me so angry it is impressive. I slam my elbow into his stomach once more, harder this time. A barely audible groan comes from behind me and for a fraction of a second, I grin. As quickly as the grin came, it’s wiped off of my face again.
He grabs my wrist and turns the arm I smacked him with on my back. It stings, a disgusting feeling that spreads up to my shoulder blade, but I’d rather bite my tongue off than admit thatit hurts.
“Stupid asshole, stop acting like a fucking Navy SEAL and just let me go.”
“What did you just call me?” he growls, pulling my arm higher until the pain that shoots through my shoulder is so bad that I whimper.
