My ex takes a step back. “Call me anytime if you’re in trouble, Lex.”
I refuse to acknowledge him. I don’t owe him anything. Not a word. Not a glance. Nothing.
After a long, tense moment, Brett stalks out, his footsteps retreating down the hallway. The front door opens, then closes with a soft click.
Silence.
Liam lingers, still staring at the doorway, his teeth grinding. Then he turns to me, and the dangerous edge in his expression softens, just slightly. “Well, that was entertaining.”
I lift my brows. “Entertaining? You just let my psycho ex see me handcuffed to a bed!”
He rolls his shoulders. “He needed to see you’d moved on. Seemed effective.”
“Liam!”
“Oh, Jesus Mary and Joseph, where are my manners?”
Stepping toward my dresser, he picks up the remote and turns on my wall flat screen, selecting Netflix and Squid Game. “Can’t have you being bored, Luv. Enjoy your show. I’ll be back in a wee bit to give you a foot massage. Then I’ll be bringing you some lunch.”
And then he’s gone, door shut.
I flop back against the pillows, stifling a screech. A foot massage? Seriously? Is he playing it up a little too much? Or is he really morally gray with this silver lining? Make that gold.
You’re mine to keep.His words.
Defiance rises, but the fever in my blood shoves it down. I should enjoy it while I can. It’s not like this is going to last, right?
I scan the room. My nightstand is just within reach if I stretch. On top of it sits a stray hairpin. I guess Liam didn’t notice it when he brought me breakfast. Or when Brett showed up.
An idea sparks.
I angle my body toward the nightstand. My legs are free, and I hook my foot onto the surface, slow and careful. I slide the barrette to the barest edge. Just need to get my toes. Holding my breath, I catch the pin between them and clench every muscle, maneuvering and dropping it right on my lap.
Yes.
Okay, I can do this. Thankful for all those years of gymnastics, I clasp the barrette between my toes, lift my leg, and bend it until I snatch it with my free hand. Victory!
My dad taught me a lot of things; picking a lock was one.
It takes a few tries, but finally, the lock gives.Click.
The handcuffs fall, and I sit up, rubbing my wrists. Freedom.
I swing my legs over the side of the bed, my heart thumping with adrenaline and vindication. I glance down at myself. I need to change. I also need a shower, but that will come later. Water is running in the kitchen. He’s still doing dishes. Good.
Quickly and quietly, I toss last night’s dress in the laundry basket, put on a new bra and underwear, praying he doesn’t hear. I grab the first dress I see: a soft pink sundress with a sweetheart neckline. It’s not because I think he’ll like it. It’s because it’s comfortable. And easy to move in.
The fact that it makes my curves look…curvier…is completely irrelevant.
Liam Donovan thinks he can just handcuff me and tell me to be a good girl?
Oh, he has no idea who he’s dealing with.
I tiptoe out of the bedroom and down the hallway, sneaking to the kitchen. I peek around the corner.
He’s standing at the sink, his back to me, sleeves rolled up to his elbows as he scrubs a plate. The gray sweater stretches across his broad shoulders, and for a moment, I’m distracted by how his muscles shift under the fabric. And the masculine veins in his arms.
Focus, Lexie.
