There’s an ornate iron fence lining the property, enclosing a large circular driveway in front of the main manor. A series of statues surround a huge fountain in the center of the drive, and there are several other smaller buildings in the back. Probably guesthouses and other quarters for their staff. I assume one of them is a pool house with the large bean-shaped swimming pool that peaks out from behind the house.
In the distance I can spot gazebos, a tennis court and putting greens for golf. Sprinklers are sputtering away as they mist the perfect green grass. I can only imagine what expensive cars must rest behind the garage doors. They really have it all.
The yard is huge and well-kept with big, perfectly trimmed trees. They lead me past brick walls covered in sprawling ivy and manicured hedges up to the thick
white columns and large brick steps leading to the front door.
The manor towers above us as we approach the entrance, my neck craning to make out the multiple balconies and rooftop patios. I hope to god we aren’t headed for one of those spots once we’re inside. One drop down from any of them and I’d be a dead woman.
We enter into a foyer with high vaulted ceilings that are covered in ornate gold leaf patterns that match the crown molding. A large chandelier sparkles up above the wide spiral staircase. It’s more classic than I expected, but I guess it makes sense since they are such old money. I imagine the Hendersons’ mansion is more modern.
I am too taken in at the sight of it to say a single word as they lead me up the stairs and into a bedroom. Each door we pass on the way reveals another spacious room perfectly decorated with giant velvet curtains draped across tall windows. The hallway is lined with expensive-looking paintings and sculptures. I have never been in such a nice house before. Every room I’ve seen so far even has its own fireplace.
They say nothing as they file me into one of the bedrooms, before promptly leaving and locking me inside.
“Just wait here,” Emmett calls out from behind the door. “I’ll be back soon enough.”
“Great,” I grumble sarcastically. I’m still for a moment, in shock from the sheer size and decadence of the house. I quickly begin to look around the room, hoping to get some clue as to exactly where I am.
I recognize the backpack thrown on the floor in the corner, but I quietly look inside to confirm. The name scribbled across the notebooks and homework assignments tells me I was right. This is Emmett’s backpack, meaning this is probably his room.
I scan the framed photos scattered across his dresser and nightstand, confirming once again that he’s featured in each one alongside smiling friends and family. I even spot one of him and Malcolm together. They’re younger. Probably close to the same age they were in the photos Malcolm kept in his glovebox. It tugs at my heart.
Why would Emmett keep this around after deciding he was too good to be close friends with him? What if what Malcolm said was true? Emmett’s just as trapped as any of us are. That would at least make me feel better about the way I surrendered to his touch in the car, which I am still reeling from.
There’s something intoxicating about being in his room, especially when he’s not in here with me. I feel like I could learn so much about him and uncover so many of his truths, if only I knew where to look first. And if I wasn’t terrified of them returning at any second and catching me.
His room is nothing like other teenage boys’ rooms I’ve been in. It’s missing the musty dirty sock and sweat smell, but that’s probably just because they have maids. Even still, it’s meticulously neat. In a way that seems impossible even with hired help cleaning once or twice a day. I speculate on what this could mean. Is he a sociopath? OCD?
Even his trashcan is spotless, only littered with one fresh apple core.
I realize I can’t remember the last time I’ve eaten. I’m kicking myself for not grabbing something from that McDonald’s before heading home. That was the last chance I’ve had to eat since the Elites dragged me out of the lunchroom this afternoon. I’ve been running on nothing but adrenaline ever since.
The smells of popcorn and simmering dinner from home rush through my memory. I wonder how long they’ll keep me here. Mom and Brendan will wonder where I am. I hate the thought of them worrying, but I can only hope that somehow saves me.
The door flings open again, sending me stumbling back innocently to the center of the room as the three of them re-enter with a pair of handcuffs in hand.
They’re silent as Emmett walks over and handcuffs me to his bed, staring straight into my eyes the entire time. I wish more than anything that Trey and Vincent weren’t standing right behind him.
The smell of his cologne fills my nose as I feel his hot breath bearing down on my neck. That smell is one that has haunted me. One that strikes both fear and arousal deep inside.
It’s completely fucked up, but there’s something incredibly erotic about him chaining me down in his room. It shouldn’t be so fucked up. All sorts of regular couples do kinky shit like this, but Emmett’s history of being rough with me makes it twisted. I can’t help but admit that it somehow only makes it sexier to me. Maybe he has just completely worn me down.
“What are you doing?” I ask finally, reluctantly breaking the spell within our locked eyes. I imagine we’re both thinking the same thing. I can see the desire glinting across his eyes.
“My father has put me in charge of watching you twenty-four-seven,” he explains casually, as if it were the most normal thing in the world. “Your dad still hasn’t responded to any of our messages, and his time is running out.”
“How much time is left?” I try asking again, recalling that they refused to tell me when they first put me up to this and started tracking my every move.
They still don’t answer. Probably just another power move, just like the blindfold. The only reason they could possibly have for not just coming right out with their deadline is to fuck with me.
“We’re gonna go check in with the old man,” Trey grumbles as he and Vincent turn to leave the room. “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do,” he winks disgustingly.
Emmett watches them leave with an excited but subtle grin, making a point to shut and lock the door behind them.
“This isn’t necessary,” I tell him as he turns back toward me. “You don’t have to handcuff me. I’m not stupid enough to try and escape. I know you’d catch me.”
“I have to do what my father tells me,” he explains, not seeming too upset about it. Stirring up Malcom’s words once again. I decide to try and play to this supposed good side he promised me is there.