“Who’s to say that dreams and nightmares aren’t as real as the here and now?”
—John Lennon
After Adam disappears around the corner and my breath catches up to me, my eyes drift to the basement door left hanging open in his wake. I finally stand and straighten my dress. He stalked off in such a hurry he didn’t check to make sure it closed behind him. His hard expression is still stuck at the forefront of my mind, bags beneath his eyes and a vein popping in his neck.
He’s slipping, and I ache to know why. I may not have signed up for Adam Matthews, but I’m here now. I’m here to serve him.
I want him to use me.
I want him to show me everything.
My heart skips when I take a step closer to the basement, torn between dreading going back down there and feeling compelled to. I tell myself it’s just my search for Frankie that pulls me in that direction, but I know better. And that’s what scares me.
The clicking of heels down the hall makes my decision for me. I slip inside, close the door behind me, and take a breath. Removing my shoes, I grip them in my sweaty hand and slowly make my way down the pitch-black staircase and to the hall. I’m almost to the same room as before when a large form blocks my path. I halt before we crash.
Lifting my eyes, I take a slow step back as my gaze meets Griff’s.
He inches closer, making me slink further back with each step he takes. I bump into the cold concrete wall, and I swallow.Shit. I played his game once. I don’t think I have it in me to do it again.
“There are cameras everywhere, Emmy,” he breathes against my neck. “Someone is always watching.” My breaths quicken when he slips a hand beneath my dress. “Something tells me your master wouldn’t like finding you here.”
I try to push him away, but he doesn’t budge. “Something tells me he wouldn’t like you touching me, either,” I manage.
He grunts and steps closer until his huge body crushes mine. My shoes slip from my grip, landing with athumpon the floor. His fingers pull on the string of my thong, and his wet mouth skims my ear. “I find that hard to believe. You think I don’t notice the way he avoids you? Not only would he let me fuck you, he’d sit back and watch. He doesn’t have the balls to touch you himself.”
When I bring my knee to his groin, he catches it, blocking the movement with his arm. A slap stings my cheek and whips my head to the side. “Slut. It’s my job to acquire people and get them where I want them,” he warns, his voice ragged. “I’d try to get comfortable if I were you.”
The burn of his slap trickles through my cheek and down my neck. In the back of my mind, a little voice tells me to keep my mouth shut. I can’t risk getting thrown out. Or worse. But sometimes, I can’t stop the words that bubble up my throat.
With my head still cocked to the side and my eyes narrowed on the wall, I whisper, “All this for a quick fuck? Are all your women sick of you?”
His sweaty palm clutches my neck, and my back drags along the wall as he lifts me off the ground. “You think this is about a quick fuck?” he spits. He leans in and slides his tongue up my cheek, where I still feel a sting. “This is so much more.”
I try to swallow, but it gets stuck in my throat when his grip tightens. My lungs squeeze, latching onto any thin streams of air they can. Suddenly he releases me. Just as I catch my fall and inhale, he grabs me again, then flips me so my back is against his chest. With one arm locked around my ribcage and the other around my hips, carrying me like I’m a doll, he marches us up the stairs.
I kick and struggle against his hold. “Get off me! Let me go—”
He clamps a hand around my mouth. “Shut the fuck up. Raife is waiting.”
A shiver crawls up my spine.Raife?
He takes us through the halls until recognition hits me. Adam’s room is just a few doors down. Which means Griff’s and Raife’s must be close, too. When we reach a room I’m unfamiliar with, he unlocks it, releases me, and shoves me inside.
I stumble forward before looking up and taking in my surroundings. My eyes widen.
The bedroom is identical to Adam’s—except for the four naked blondes sprawled on the bed, each of them toying with golden scarves between their fingers. They’re watching me, two of them wearing seductive smiles, the other two with curiosity—as though I’m the unusual piece in this picture.
Raife sits at the foot of the bed, his hands clasped on his lap and a smirk on his face. “Hello, lovely,” he purrs. “I’ve missed you.”
I tense when Griff moves behind me. His fingers brush my dress, and he pops each button open, one by one, snapping the thread and letting the buttons fall to the floor.
“What is this?” I ask, my voice shaky.
“This,” Raife murmurs, “is called show and tell.”
When I frown, his chuckle fills the room.
“Not for you, of course.” He eyes something to my left.
