* * *
Being locked up in Dallas’ private quarters like a child being punished was suffocating me from the inside out. I paced the floor with anxious unease as I replayed everything that happened in my mind.
This whole thing was so…messed up. It wasn’t supposed to go this way. I didn’t come to California to become a sex slave to a crazed mask man and then be kidnapped twice in one day.
Well, I guess I’m being a bit dramatic with the second kidnapping but it definitely felt like it, kind of.
I threw my head back in frustration and ran my hand over my face. My skin felt thick and rough, probably from the filth in that abandoned house. I went to the door and found Jackson standing outside, guarding it like he had been for what felt like several hours.
“Any word from Dallas yet?”
I asked in the most aggressive tone as possible, making it clear I was not happy being held against my will.
“No, ma’am. Not yet,” he said plainly with a grin, making it obvious my discomfort amused him. I slammed the door closed and then heard a chuckle from behind it. He was clearly enjoying watching me behave like this.
I walked into the bathroom and started the shower, turning the water on as hot as I could stand it. Steam immediately filled the room as I undressed. I stood in the mirror, watching as the fog slowly took over the space, making my reflection slowly dissipate into the blurred linesof condensation.
I stood under the water, letting it run from my head to my toes with my hand pressed against the wall. I imagined the water cleansing me of my hurt and confusion, which was so hard to decipher. It was like my mind was a cluster of emotions but the one thing I kept coming back to was Dallas and why I wasn’t good enough for him, why he didn’t want me in the way that I now know I truly wanted him.
I stayed in the shower until my skin wrinkled and the room filled with steam. Wrapping a big fluffy red robe with the club’s logo around my tired body, I walked back towards the room that was currently my prison, staring at the floor, watching my steps against the black marble as I towel-dried my wet hair.
“You look perfect in my robe.”
I nearly jumped out of my skin at hearing Dallas’s rich tone in the quiet of the room. My face flushed as I tried to feign anger, knowing relief was hidden behind it. I was so happy to hear his baritone voice and the sweet head tilt that had become one of my favorite things about this arrogant masked man.
“Good! You’re back. Can you please take me home now?” I snapped way less antagonistically than I intended because if I were being honest with myself, I didn’t want to be mad at him. I wanted him, and I wanted him to want me just as badly. I wanted him to want me like he wanted whoever was in that photo.
“Yes, I would love to take you home,” he said with what sounded like a smirk. I couldn’t see for certain because of the mask that covered his face. That annoying barrier that kept me at a distance, never fully letting me in, a mask that, while it offers the most thrilling experience sexually, has now become an obstacle to whatever real connection I thought was between us.
“Of course you would,” I snapped, completely destroyed by his response. Was he really so anxious to get rid of me? This really wasjust an arrangement between us for him. If I brought up the photos now, would it even matter?
Probably not.
He hasn’t even asked if I was okay from being kidnapped by that weirdo. What if something would have happened? And it almost did.
“Something wrong, Sweetheart?” He questioned. The humor in his tone told me he already knew I was upset. Probably that blabbermouth Jackson, and he isn’t taking me seriously.
“Yes, there is, Dallas.” My voice started off strong and confident but faltered at the last minute. His body stiffened, “Did he hurt you?” The emphasis on the wordhurtwas clear, and I knew exactly what he was asking.
“No, I’m fine. He was a weirdo, and that house was disgusting, but Jackson stormed in just before anything could happen. I’m fine. It’s not about…” my voice trailed off and stopped mid-sentence. I wanted to tell him how I felt, to express these new emotions I was feeling toward him. I wanted to scream at the top of my lungs,” PICK ME!” but instead, I just shook my head.
A single tear escaped my eyes before Dallas stood right before me, with his arms wrapped around my waist. He pulled me in tight as I laid my head against his chest. His heart was pounding fast as he rubbed his big hands down the back of my head.
“Delaney, those pictures, that wasn’t…”
“It’s fine, Dallas; you don’t have to explain or make excuses.” I pulled back from his hold to look up at him. “We were never real; this was just an arrangement. I know.” I stopped, trying hard to keep my voice from quivering as I broke my own heart with my next words.
“You were never really mine, and I was never really yours. Besides, we aren’t right for each other anyway.”
There was a long pause and the loudest silence before he spoke again. His tone now laced in something unfamiliar.
“What if I want it to be real?”
My breath hitched, and the sudden rage I felt flush over me was fierce as I tried to pull myself together enough to respond without coming off as a hormonal lunatic. He didn’t say anything else, as I assumed he was watching my emotions battle across my face.
“How could you even utter those words to me?” I snapped, “This isn’t a game, Dallas; this is my life,my heart.” My voice cracked at the last part. As much as I tried not to let my feelings be seen, there was no way he wasn’t seeing every single bit of it as I stood there in his robe, with vulnerability seeping out of my pores.
My vision blurred from the tears threatening to fall as I tried like hell to keep them at bay.
