Page 23 of Blissful Devotion

The room spun when I stood up, reminding me of the masked man's comment about my possible concussion.

If only I knew what to look out for with that…

I reach for my phone to look it up, only to remember I don’t have one.

Well, that’s annoying.

I’ll just have to watch out for everything, I guess.

I move into the bathroom, staring down at my feet, embarrassed to see myself in the condition I know I will find myself in when I raise my eyes to meet my reflection.

With a sigh, I flick on the light and turn to look in the obscenely large mirror.

Wow, I look like shit, but somehow not as bad as I’d expected. First things first, I pee before I move back into the room and pull sweatpants and a T-shirt from the drawer.

I’d rather keep my own clothes on, but after the crash and the time in the dungeon, they’ve seen better days. There’s blood, holes, and dirt in enough places that I intend to simply toss them in the trash once I’m out of them.

Moving back into the bathroom, I’m not surprised to find there’s no lock on the bathroom door. That level of privacy and ability to hide away doesn’t seem like something Lorenzo would be worried about providing for his guests.

I take a second to look around the bathroom for any obvious cameras and cross my fingers that there aren’t any. Though it might just be something more high-tech than I can spot. Either way, I keep my clothes on until I’m in the shower stall, the water already warming as I peel them off.

I intend to keep my underwear and bra on; taking clean ones from him just feels weird—wrong—so I toss them over the shower wall the second they're off.

Even naked, I feel gross; it’s almost as if the dirt is caked on me like a second skin. The thought pushes me to move, and I reach for the single brand-new loofah that hung from the wall, drowning it in body wash until it’s covered in bubbles before I turn it on myself, only to jerk to a stop when it catches on… glass.

Dropping the loofah, I start pulling shards of glass from my arm, carefully setting them on the ledge that houses the body wash and shampoo; the last thing I need is to step on them too.

Thankfully, none of them are very big, and while I bleed, it’s not enough to worry me. I just need to keep it clean and dry; that’s all I really can do.

With all the glass removed, I scrub and scrub until there’s no way a speck of dirt can remain, and then I scrub again. My skin is red and raw by the time I drop the loofah at my feet, and while I still feel icky, I don’t feel dirty.

I wash my hair just as harshly, then stand and let the hot water wash all the soap away, giving myself just long enough to breathe before I flip the water off and reach for the towel.

It’s plush, just like the ones back home, and I nearly laugh at the difference in actual wealth.

I’d always thought that Carter was rich when we were younger, but I think that might have been a vast overreaction based on the fact that I simply didn’t know any better.

The guys made him look like he was simply getting by compared to the life they lived.

Wrapping myself in the towel, I stand in the shower stall for another moment, giving myself the illusion of privacy even though I’m sure it’s not real. I stand, looking down at the floor that still shines even after my shower full of dirt and blood, and can’t stop my hand from sliding down my stomach, pressing the towel tight to see just the smallest hint of a bump.

Choking back a sob, I pull back, letting my hand drop to my side as I climb out of the shower.

I get dressed in a blur, moving around the room to check everything again, hoping that I simply missed something.

I didn’t.

I do find a small first-aid kit under the sink. My arm is still bleeding, so I wrap it up.

It looks awful, but it holds, and thankfully, the cut on my head isn’t bleeding anymore, though it is beyond painful.

Clean, bandaged, and trapped, I move to the bed; I don’t want to sleep; I hate the idea of closing my eyes here with him…

But I know I need it; I can feel the bone-deep exhaustion creeping in, and who knows when I’ll get another chance alone like this.

I move back into the bathroom, grabbing towels, clothes, and the shampoo bottle to set in front of the door. It won’t stop anyone from coming in, but hopefully it will be enough to alert me.

Please let it be enough.