Princess
Sunday | 7:30pm
I lay flaton my back, arms stretched wide across the plush bed like I was waiting forsomethingto happen.Anything.I was bored out of my mind, and I knew by now that my best friend, Mora, was losing her mind because she couldn't reach me.
I shouldn’t have been surprised to still be locked away. I knew my father wouldn’t pay up. The whole situation made me wonder just how crooked he was and why he’d need to borrow from someone like Nyce. After showering, napping, and eating cheddar and broccoli soup, I lay there for hours. The silence was killing me.
I tried to escape because staying locked up was eating me alive. I needed control back, even if I knew the odds were bad. I went for the windows first, hoping to pry one open and scream for help. They didn’t budge… they were reinforced glass. I should’ve known.
Next, I grabbed a lamp from the side table, heart pounding, and slammed it against the window. The lamp bounced off like I’d swung a pillow. Breathing hard, my pulse thundering, I stood over that damn lamp on the carpet, as if it had given up too. Then came the door.
I spent twenty minutes running my fingers over the lock, checking for gaps, seams, and anything I could work with. The only weapon I had was a thin, diamond-studded hairpin in the nightstand. I bent and twisted it, trying to work it into the lock as I’d seen in movies. Nothing worked, and it let me know that Nyce didn’t just have this house designed because he was rich. He was paranoid, too.
“Screw this.” I balled my fist and pounded on the door. “Open the fucking door!” I shouted, voice echoing off the walls. Nothing. I hit it harder. “I know somebody’s out there. I swear to God, if you don’t let me out of here…”
Still nothing.
Breathing hard, chest heaving, throat dry, I was ignored… just somethingto be contained. I closed my eyes, heart pounding, but the pressure climbed, sharp and relentless in my chest. My hands shook as I opened my mouth and screamed, raw and aching, from somewhere below my ribs… a sound packedwith rage, grief, humiliation, everything boiling behind my eyes since Nyce dragged me out of that damn wedding.
And just like that, I heard the lock disengage on the door. My heart kicked into overdrive as I jumped back just before it swung open. Nyce’s huge frame stood in the doorway like a demon dressed in black. His eyes were darker than usual, almost black, and locked on me like I’d fucked up totally. His shirt sleeves were rolled up to his forearms, exposing his tattoos. His presence filled the room before he even stepped in.
“The fuck is your problem?” His voice was low, dangerous, and calm in that terrifying way that told me he wasn’t in the mood for games.
My throat tightened, but I refused to flinch. I lifted my chin, heart still pounding. “My problem? Maybe the fact that I’m locked in a room while you sit around playing fucking Scarface!”
He stepped inside. Before I could blink, his hand was around my throat, backing me into the wall. My breath caught with slight fear but that wasn’t the only thing I felt. His grip wasn’t tight enough to hurt, but it was firm. The way his body crowded mine. The heat off him. The way his fingers curled just under my jaw…
I should’ve been kicking, clawing, and screaming. But instead, a low shiver crept down my spine, and my stomach flipped as if I’d just stepped off a rollercoaster. I hated it. But something about the way he looked at me like I was his most beautiful challenge made my whole body buzz.
“You don’t get it, do you?” His voice rasped against my skin, a slow grind of gravel and smoke.
I stared straight back at him, even as my body betrayed me with that low heat pooling where it shouldn’t be. “I get that you’re an asshole,” I snapped. “And if you don’t get your damn hands off me, you’re gonna find out how sharp a diamond hairpin really is.”
That slow, smug smirk curled up on his face like heenjoyedme threatening him. Like I was just amusing him. “You’re lucky I’m too tired for the antics right now,” he murmured, his thumb pressing slightly into the side of my throat, making my breath catch in my lungs.
My stomach twisted painfully. I wanted to punch him, kiss him, run, and never look back...all at once. “I hate you,” I spit out, voice tight and uneven, humiliation making my fingertips tremble.
His eyes dropped to my mouth. He was studying me. Watching my every blink, every inhale, like he was trying to memorize every detail. “I don’t think you do.”
I dug my nails into his wrist. “Let… me… go.”
For a second, I thought he might not. He didn’t even blink. He just stared, his grip still solid like he was trying to decide if I was bluffing. Then, finally, he released me, and I sucked in a breath with my throat tingling. We stood there for a moment, locked in a standoff, the air thick with heat, tension, and something way too dangerous to name.
Nyce dragged a hand over his beard and exhaled like he was trying to shake it off. “Come on,” he said, nodding down the hallway.
I didn’t move right away. I didn’t trust him. I’d be a fool if I did. Still, the last thing I wanted was to get dragged, so I walked, hoping he’d just let me go. Right before I stepped through the doorway, he grabbed my wrist. Not rough, but firm enough to make me stop.
I tensed. “What?”
“I don’t do stupid,” he said, voice calm like he was just stating facts. “I may be tired, but if you pull anything reckless, you won’t like how this shit ends.”
I snatched my arm back and looked him dead in the eye. “Noted.” He didn’t say anything else, just jerked his chin for me to keep moving.
I turned and walked ahead of him, keeping my pace steady and my head high. I felt the prickling heat of his gaze trace down my neck and shoulders, making my skin pulse and my jaw tighten. I hated how exposed it made me feel, although I’d changed into a pair of leggings, tank top and cropped hoodie. I didn’t dare look back. But the tension in the air shifted the second my back was to him, as if his eyes probed deeper, searching for cracks, trying to see what I was made of.
“I’m hungry,” I said finally, breaking the silence.
When we reached the bottom of the stairs, he nodded to the left. “Turn here.”
I did, and we walked into a dark and beautifully designed movie room, plucked from a luxury magazine. Everything was clean, expensive, and untouched.
I crossed the room and sank onto one of the couches, pulling my legs up beneath me without thinking. The softness swallowed me, and for the first time since I’d been taken, I let my shoulders relax just a little. Nyce walked over and set a phone down on the armrest before taking a seat beside me. He didn’t explain. He just placed it there, and I wondered what was coming next.
