The way he said it made my skin crawl. It was as if he thought this was a game, and I was finally learning the rules. I hated how calm he was and how entertained he looked, as if this didn’t even register as wrong to him.
“You can shower and get dressed,” he said, nodding toward the marble-covered bathroom. “Since you didn’t touch the food last night, I’m assuming you want something to eat.” Right on cue, my stomach growled. His smirk deepened. “Starving, huh?”
I lifted my chin. “What, you’re gonna feed me yourself?”
He stepped closer, just enough to make my breath catch again. “Only if you askrealnice.”
Heat crawled up my neck. I clenched my jaw and yanked the shopping bags closer. “I think I can manage.”
“Good,” he said, already turning toward the door. I rolled my eyes and stood, marching toward the bathroom. But his voice stopped me at the door. “Oh, and Princess…”
I turned, hand on the frame.
His face had changed. It was still unreadable, but no longer playful. “Don’t get any ideas,” he said, low and cold. “I got menwatching every inch of this muthafucka. You can’t escape and if you try, you won’t like what happens after that.”
A chill ran down my spine, but I forced myself to appear unbothered. “Then I guess I’d better behave.” He held my gaze for a moment or two, then he nodded once, like I passed some invisible test, and walked out. The lock clicked after that.
I stood there for a long second, fingers tight around the bag handles, heart pounding so hard I could barely think.I shut the bathroom door behind me and locked it, even though I knew it wouldn’t do shit if he wanted to come in.
The bathroom was just as lavish with black marble floors, gold sink fixtures, and a tub I could swim in.
All of it polished, perfect, and untouched. A single white towel sat folded on the counter, and brand-new toiletries wereon the sink, including perfume. I stepped up to the mirror and froze. I looked like shit.
My wedding dress was wrinkled. My lipstick was gone. My hair was wild, falling out of pins and sticking to my neck. The smudged eyeliner under my eyes made me look like I’d been crying even though I hadn’t shed a tear.
I reached behind me, unzipped the dress with unsteady fingers, and let it fall. Then I stepped into the shower and turned the water on hot, letting it wash away the last several hours of disaster. When I came out, wrapped in a towel, steam clinging to my skin, I looked at the bags again.
I pulled out a pair of black biker shorts, a matching top, and black, furry slides. After moisturizing, I slipped everything on, ignoring the way the clothes hugged my curves perfectly. I didn’t care if he’d guessed right or if some woman on his payroll had done the choosing. Either way, I hated how good it felt.
I sat on the edge of the bed again, damp hair pulled up into a loose bun as I stared at the door. I didn’t know what Nyce’s plan was, but I knew mine. I wasn’t about to sit here and play victim. One way or another, I was getting out of here. And when I did, Nyce was going to regret ever laying eyes on me.
