“It can wait,” Christian says flatly.
“I’m scared I’ll make a mess if I keep going. I haven’t peed since last night.”
Was it last night? How much time has passed?
Silence drops in as these three men hold the impending fate of my bladder in their hands.
“Fine.” That cold voice he used with the others is now pointed toward me. It’s a single word that’s cut out through clenched teeth and sharp annoyance.
But I’m buying more time, and that’s all that matters.
On quick steps that I can’t keep track of, he leads me—drags me—through the shadowy halls. My vision blurs as I stumble, and in the next hazy second, we’re in front of a stone door. I blink and try to get my bearings... This wasn’t here before. This door wasn’t here.
That’s ridiculous. It didn’t justappear.
How did we get here?
I shake my head at how quickly everything around us has changed. The candles are now torches that burn brightly. The shine off of Christian’s sleek black shoes can be seen now. The memory of how his black suit jacket hugged his hard chest last night burns painfully through my thoughts.
He was so sexy. Alluring.
Dangerous.
I don’t look back at the three of them as I turn the handle and quickly scurry inside. The heavy door closes with a thud, and I fall against it the moment something solid is put between me and them. My breaths become heavier, and I let the anxiety I’ve been holding back fully shake through me. The rattling of my chains between my quaking hands has me clenching my fingers into my palms instantly.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” I hiss to myself like a warm-up chant.
The room is small, and not a single window offers me hope. Just four cold stone walls. I bet stone walls quiet screams. I bet you can’t hear a plea for help even if you are standing right outside this room.
The toilet along the other wall is strange. It, too, is made of stone. A large crystal basin of water sits on a marble table next to it. Red roses are arranged elegantly behind the fancy bowl of water. Strangely, there’s no mirror over the makeshift sink. Just an empty stone wall. Gentle candlelight sets a mood that’s somewhere between a fairy-tale and a dungeon vibe.
Rich people are so fucking weird.
Sweat clings to my hands, and I push my palms harshly down my thighs over and over again. Once more, I think through my shitty options.
I don’t know where I am. I can’t run. The people here don’t care that I’m a prisoner.
A single solid thud hits the door, and I can’t help the gasp that slips from my lips.
“Hurry up!” Christian commands.
The harshness of his tone is like words crawling over broken glass. He was gentle with me in the bedroom.
That’s the only option I have: to play on these men’s kindness.
And hope they fucking have any left to show me.
Another pounding of heavy fists against the hard surface shakes through me, and that jagged tone calls out once more.
“Times up.” The handle turns, but at the last second, I rush, and I slide the big cold lock in place.
“Crymson,” his calculated cruelness kisses along the syllables of my name in a way that makes a shiver race across my flesh, “did you justlockthe door?” It’s a cutting question, one he knows the answer to but wants me to bow down to him just like that other girl did.
I won’t.
“I—I can’t get it unlocked. I can’t get the door open.” With hardly any effort, I weakly jiggle the handle. The door doesn’t move an inch against the solid lock that’s now in place. “Sorry,” I add rather lamely.
“Crymson.” He exhales heavily. “Open the-fucking-door before I send Rorrick in there to get you.” The cold calmness of his words is terrifying. He sounds like he would cut a man’s chest open just to see what falls out.