He’s bad.
He’s wrong.
But his kiss felt good in such a bad way.
Oh, my God. My mind was like a minefield, a ticking timebomb threatening to explode any second.
Frustrated and confused as hell, I grabbed a pillow and pulled it over my face, screaming like a woman gone mad. I refused to accept the fact that I was turning into one of those women you read about in romance novels who developed this sordid attraction toward her kidnapper, thinking she’d be the one to change his evil ways.
Only I had been attracted to Granite long before this nightmare started. Long before I knew how dangerous he really was. My attraction toward him wasn’t a new thing—the way he affected me, the way I desired him, it had been that way long before this. He had been on my mind every day for the last few years. Apparently, I had been on his mind as well. But did that make all this right? Did it justify my body’s twisted desire to be taken by him? I wasn’t sure. I wasn’t sure of anything anymore.
All this time, I thought my father was behind guys being too scared to date me. But it was him. Granite. Somehow, he made sure men stayed away from me. How was that even possible? Did he really have that kind of power in this city? Was he really capable of threatening whoever he wanted to, manipulating lives?
“God.” I got up from the bed, tossing the pillow on the floor. Unreal. That was what he was. Un-fucking-real.
Pacing, I caught sight of the chest of drawers with my stuff on it. My brush. My make-up bag. My perfume. He was in my room. If he had been able to manipulate my life without me knowing, getting access to my room was probably a piece of cake for a man like him. By dealing with my dad, his weekly visits, it gave him the perfect opportunity to invade my privacy.
Jesus. My insides coiled tight just thinking about it.
I picked up the blue bottle of perfume. It was unused, and the bottle I had at home was almost empty. For some reason, knowing it was only replicas settled me a little. Placing it back, I glanced around before walking to the window. Someone had closed the shutters, probably to remind me that this wasn’t a bedroom. It was a prison. Twice I had been let out of the room, and not once did it occur to me to look out a window, to try to see where we were and if the area seemed familiar. It was pathetic, really, the fact that I had zero survival skills.
“Yo, Swan Lake?” Neon knocked on the door. “You okay in there?”
“Is that a trick question?”
“No.”
The door unlocked, and Neon slowly opened it before walking in holding out my clothes. “You looked hideous dancing in that outfit that’s, like, five sizes too big for you. So I washed these. Thought you’d feel more comfortable in your own clothes.”
I crossed my arms. “Thanks.”
She placed it on the bed. “No problem. So, needless to say, Granite is slightly pissed at me for letting you out of the room. And judging by the bulging vein across his forehead when he came out, it’s safe to say he’ll chew my ass if I do it again.”
“It’s okay.” I hugged myself tighter. “At least I don’t smell like a mucky ballerina anymore.”
Neon stifled a laugh. “Yeah. There’s that.”
She hovered for a few moments, glancing around the room.
“Neon. You don’t have to stick around. I’m okay.”
“You sure? You’re not hungry or anything?”
I scowled at her. “Not funny.”
“Oh, I wasn’t trying to be.”
“No, Neon. I’m not hungry. But thank you.”
“Such good manners,” she mumbled on her way out. “Oh, by the way. We’re having pizza tonight. Extra cheese.” She winked then closed the door.
Why was everyone so obsessed with my weight? God.
With a grunt, I grabbed my clothes from the bed then opened the closet doors which Neon said led to a mini bathroom. It only had a tiny sink and a toilet. Nothing else. Not even a window or a dash of color. If you asked me, the bathroom was probably a new addition to the bedroom. It gave me shivers thinking about it being added to accommodate my kidnapping.
I walked into the nothing-but-white bathroom and caught sight of my reflection in the full-length mirror placed on one of the doors. Neon was right. The clothes she gave me were far too big. I looked like a child playing dress-up in adult clothing.
I stepped closer, examining the bruise on my face. It was a mix of black, purple, and blue—an ugly reminder of the night my entire life changed. Softly, I placed my fingertips against the purple welts. From afar, a bruise just looked like a giant purple and black blotch. But up close, you’d see shades of green, yellow, different shades of blue. Almost like people. From afar, they looked simple and two-dimensional, some grotesque and ugly. It was only when you got up close and personal that you realized how intricate and complex they were. Every line played a part in shaping a three-dimensional being. I guessed that was why they said every person was unique, even though we all had the same goal in life. To survive.