Chapter 30
“Comeon.Gogetchanged. You’ve got several choices to pick from.” Tore shooed me with both arms at the bottom of the stairs.
“You’re an idiot.”
“A thoughtful idiot. I even left you a little gift to lighten your mood and soften you up.” He waggled his eyebrows.
“I don’t need softening up.”
“Meh. You’re wound up tighter than a virgin at a brothel.”
I slapped him on the back with a chuckle. “You’re still just as ridiculous. Somehow, that’s more a relief than anything else I’ve seen out here so far. Never change.”
“Just take your time. No rush. We’ve got”—Tore glanced down at his watch—“a good hour before guests start arriving. I want to see a smirk on your face when you come down.”
“Get out of here.” I huffed my annoyance at his foolishness and watched as he and our men filed out of the hallway. I’d forgotten how carefree life could be outside the rigid structure of prison life.
My phone vibrated in my pocket, and I frowned, wondering how many people Tore had already distributed the number to.
Unknown
Hey, diary. Welcome back. Tore still taking you clubbing tonight? This is Ainsley, btw.
I chortled, then shook my head. No, this wouldn’t do. I had no right to feel this chest-clenching relief at the sight of one little message from her. She was too young for me, too closely related, even if not by blood. I switched the damn thing off.
The faint beat of the music resonated through the soundproofing of the club walls, but other than that, the vast emptiness of the corridor and staircase felt larger than it was. And lonely. There was no one around. No one to protect against. No prison guards ordering and shoving about inmates. No batons or pepper spray in sight. No threats of beatings when left alone. No shivs when my back was turned. Just pure emptiness, like days spent in isolation. It was…disconcerting.
I forced myself up the stairs, not because Tore told me to, but for myself. To take back the control of my life that was stolen from me. Twice now, everything I’d become accustomed to had changed in the blink of an eye, and I could feel my restraint dancing on the edge of a knife. Almost like I was waiting for the quiet to settle before throwing the first punch. No more of this bullshit.
I strode up the stairs, through the hallway that separated the offices, supply closets, and conference rooms, and entered the executive suite. The space hadn’t changed much since my visit as a guest years ago. The dark tones made the room feel a little too somber and closed in after years spent in a small cell. The walls lacked as much decoration as I’d experienced for years. The furnishings, though, were just as lavish as I remembered.
I circled the desk, my fingers trailing over the curve of it. The chair had changed—black plush leather, outrageously comfortable. I collapsed into it, trying to relax.
I was out of that hellhole. I was free…finally. The air wasn’t stale or sweat-ridden. The furniture was comfortable and clean. The food and drink were good. There was even a bottle of champagne with a red bow tie around its neck and glasses on my desk.
The shower was unoccupied. No other inmates in sight.
Just as my head fell back against the headrest and I closed my eyes, the sound of water rushing through pipes and showering down began. A woman’s singing voice murmured from the en suite bathroom.
I picked up the first weapon available: a letter opener. In fifteen steps, I reached the bathroom. Steam swamped me as the door quietly slid open, fumed with the scent of cedarwood bodywash.
A woman stood brazenly naked, head tilted back under the spray of water. She was short, close to a foot shorter than me. Her wet hair was a dark blonde, almost brown. Soft-bodied. Breasts smooth, with peaked nipples. A little pooch to her belly, with a marked waist bandying out to wide hips and a lush ass. Her fingers swept over her body, soapsuds sliding down her olive skin.
My entire body tightened just looking at her. I balled my fists and stayed still.
“Ugh, would it kill him to stock women’s bodywash? I’m going to smell like a man,” the woman groused. “At least he won’t know.”
“Who?”
She screamed, arms covering her breasts, legs crossing, as she spun in place.
“You!” she said with wide eyes. Water continued to crash down from the showerhead.
“Me?” I frowned.
“I…I thought you weren’t coming.”
“You know me?”
