No money.
No car.
Absolutely nothing.
When they took me from the bar, I didn’t have any of my shit with me. So, my only hope is that Susie or Bexley will get worried and call the cops to report me as a missing person—but I can’t rely on that. Bexley knew where I was staying. I’m sure she will go check, but Chase will make it seem like I left with Emris willingly.
What a fucking mess. If I hadn’t been covering for Susie, this wouldn’t have happened. Yeah, I’d be in that shitty ass apartment, on the shitty ass bed—but at least it was mine.
This room, this house, this fucking bed isn’t mine, and I have no idea how the hell I’m going to get out of this one. But sitting here feeling sorry for myself isn’t going to get me out, either. I need a plan, and I need to figure it out fast. Before I end up dead.
Knowing it’s going to take me longer than a few minutes to figure it out, I decide to take a shower. My clothes are filthy. Black grime covers my arms, and my palms still sting as I unwrap them—but when I turn them over, expecting worse, I’m relieved to see the cuts are shallow after all.
I head to the ensuite, andJesus fuck. This is the biggest bathroom I’ve ever seen.
Black marble lines each wall and the floor. Dark, fluffy towels are stacked on a shelf along with everything you would need to wash—shampoo, conditioner, body wash—even though it’s men’s products, but whatever. If it gets me clean, I don’t care. Opening the cabinets, there’s even some face wash. This bathroom is probably worth more than Chase’s entire apartment building. I scan the room, my eyes landing on a small window—one that looks big enough to climb through. Relief floods my system, and I race to it. My fingers shake from the adrenaline. This might be a little easier than I thought, but all that relief drains the second I try to open the latch and nothing happens.
“No. No! God fucking damn it!” I yell, throwing my fist against the window, but I’m sure they aren’t fucking breakable, either. I run my hands through my knotted hair as tears spring to my eyes, but I refuse to let them fall. I aggressively strip my clothes from my body and throw them on the clean floor.
Opening the walk-in shower, I turn the knob, and a perfect flow of water falls as I wait for it to warm up.
Stepping under, I let the water run down my head and body, keeping my eyes closed as if that will somehow help the feelings inside of me that are trying very hard to escape. I don’t let myself get buried in any more self-pity, though—I don’t havetime for that. Instead, I reach for the soap and squeeze a good amount into my palm before lathering my hair, rinsing it out, and repeating with the conditioner, hoping it will be enough to get these fucking knots out.
My body is exhausted, and so is my mind. I’ll take today to rest and figure out things tomorrow when my mind is clearer.
Next, I grab the body wash and pour it down my chest. The soap runs along my breasts and down my stomach. I move my hands over my skin, scrubbing harder than necessary, chasing the memory of yesterday down the damn drain. Soap stings against the cuts, but I force my shoulders to loosen.
When I lean forward to rinse, something shifts—like a weight in the air. The hairs along my spine stand up, but I don’t turn around.
I know he’s in here.
I rinse the soap from my arms, letting the water run over my skin and wash away the suds. If he’s expecting me to react, to scramble for a towel or cover myself, he’ll be waiting a while. I straighten, water sliding down my back as I take my sweet damn time.
Let him watch.
When I’m done, I turn off the water, step out of the shower, and reach for the towel. But before I wrap myself in the fluffy material, I lock eyes with him. His are full of hunger and need as they track every visible inch of my skin, but he won’t get anything from me. Neither of us say anything as we stand there, both refusing to be the first to look away. There’s something dead in his eyes, and it reminds me too much of how I feel inside and can’t take it anymore.
As I go to push past him to leave, his hand grips my bicep.
“Here.” He shoves a black shirt and some shorts into my hands, but before I have a chance to say anything, he releases me and stalks out of the room, the door locking behind him.
I’m not sure what the fuck to make of this situation. One second, he’s tying me to chairs and locking me in the trunk of his car, and the next he’s watching me naked in the fucking shower. I don’t let it bother me as I slip on the clothes and plop down on the bed. After the last twenty-four hours, all I want is to be left alone.
Before I climb under the blanket, my eyes land on a tray of food and a drink on the nightstand. And as if on cue, my stomach lets out a low growl.How long has it been since I’ve eaten? No wonder I feel like shit.
I grab the tray, inhale the food, and the second my head hits the pillow, I fall into a deep sleep. One I was desperate for, even as the sun spends the rest of the day behind the clouds.
13
EMRIS
It’s beenhours since I watched Brielle in the shower, and I still can’t get the image out of my head. How the water and soap rolled down each curve of her body, making me wish it was my hands instead.
I have no idea how I can want her this much.
I shouldn’t.
This is wrong, and if I were a good man, I’d let her go and forget everything, but there’s something about her that calls to me, and it’s not something I can ignore.
