His phone rings, and he picks it up, standing from the table and walking outside. He leans against the balcony as he talks, and I watch him, wondering if this is a trap. Who fucking cares? Even though I know it’s pointless, I leap up and try the front door. But it’s locked. Sighing, I look around at the rest of the apartment before deciding to explore like he said. I have nothing else to do, and I might find something handy.
I head upstairs first, my bare feet slapping against the glass. At the top is what looks like a library with a fur carpet in the middle and huge, floor-to-ceiling antique bookcases. It’s quite impressive actually. There’s a corridor to the left and one to the right. I choose left. The first door is locked, but I can hear the hum of computers behind it. Maybe a security room?
The door next is also locked, but this one has a scanner on it, so I back away, knowing they don’t want anyone getting at whatever’s in there. The very next door is unlocked, so I slip inside and look around.
It’s double the size of my room, but just as neat. A large, metal, low riding bed sits against the right wall. There are more floor-to-ceiling windows opposite me again. There’s no TV or even much furniture. Just a desk with nothing on it but a pen and a pad, but the drawers are locked—I tried them. The floor is a super soft carpet, which my feet sink into as I wander around.
The bedding is so straight and perfect, I jump on it just to mess it up a bit. The silky grey material wrinkles under me as I roll around before getting up and smiling down at my handiwork.
Like my room, there are two doors, one leads to a bathroom and the first signs of life with toiletries and a half filled hamper. The other door is a wardrobe, which is filled with suits on the left, and shining shoes on the back with two pairs of trainers underneath. Hard to imagine Ryder in for sure. To the right is what looks like grey joggers and shirts, pajama pants, and boxers. I run my hand across the perfectly ironed and hung clothing before an evil thought comes to my mind.
It’s petty, but honestly, they didn’t just expect me to sit and wait for them like a dog, did they? I have this need to push them, to find out what they are willing to do. I head back to the bathroom, searching the cupboards until I find what I’m looking for then, giggling, head back to his closet. Picking the first suit, I drag the scissors through the material, slashing and hacking until it’s ruined.
I leave only one untouched, grinning. I stare at the thousands upon thousands of pounds of perfectly tailored suits, which now lay in tatters. Proud of myself, I leave the scissors behind and exit his room. Now, what can I do to the other ones?
Heading back past the library, I travel down the other corridor to three more doors. I poke my head in the first two. The first one is certainly Diesel’s room, it’s painted black with leather cuts and jackets thrown everywhere. His bed is unmade, his room messy. There are lighters across his side table and cigarettes, and I frown when I spot some panties on his pillow which look suspiciously like mine.
Shaking my head, I leave his room alone. Who knows what he’s keeping in there. The next is neater, cleaner, but more lived in. There is a pack of cards on the side table, so it must be Kenzo’s. Not wanting to be caught snooping, I slip into the last room.
This must be Garrett’s.
The big guy is scary, really fucking scary. As in he could rip me apart without blinking, but he also doesn’t seem to know I exist, and that makes me curious. He isn’t like the others, why?
He has a punching bag hung in one corner, and it looks well worn. A king-sized bed is pushed up in the other corner with dark sheets. His whole back wall is painted black with industrial style lights hanging above. The other wall is exposed brick. There’s a TV opposite the bed with stacks and stacks of DVDs under it. I spot some old-school horror movies, seems he’s a horror junkie.
There isn’t much else here apart from clothing and toiletries. It’s like they barely live here, this place is so…empty. Is it new? Or do they just really not spend that much time here? Sighing, I sit on his bed and look at the side table. Pulling it open curiously, I root through the junk in there before hitting a velvet box.
Pulling it out, I open it, and my eyes widen. It’s a ring, a fucking huge ring. What the—
“You shouldn’t be in here,” Kenzo drawls from the door.
Looking up, I meet his eyes unapologetically. “You told me to look around, so I am.”
Clicking the box shut, I carefully put it back in the drawer. Is Garrett married?
“I did.” He smirks. “I’ll have to be more careful of what I say in the future, but what I meant, Rox, is that you can’t be in here.”
“Why?” I ask, tilting my head.
“If Garrett finds you in here…well, it won’t be pretty. He might seem calm and in control, but he hates women, so just stay away, okay?” He sighs.
“Hates women? Why?” I press, and he shakes his head.
“You ask a lot of questions for a captive,” Kenzo mutters, not like it’s a bad thing. His eyes light up. “Do you want to play a game?”
“Against you? No thanks.” I snort.
“Why not? Scared?” he taunts.
“I saw the dice you keep in your pocket, the way your eyes track, things and the cards in your room…it’s not hard to deduce that you like to play games. Probably win a lot.” I shrug, standing up.
“That’s true. What if I told you I owned every casino, backstreet dealing, and bookie in the city?” he questions, blocking the door, his arm outstretched.
“Then I would tell you that you have a gambling problem.”
“Or maybe I just like to win,” he murmurs, his eyes darkening as they run down my body. I swallow hard but don’t back down.
“Or you just like money, greedy bastard,” I snap, crossing my arms to block his eyes, but they drop to my exposed cleavage, and he licks his lips.
“That too,” he agrees.
“Are you going to move?” I growl.
He watches me, seeming to deliberate my question. “Why aren’t you more scared of us?”
My heartbeat triples at that. If only they knew that I am scared of them, but I get it. Why aren’t I a sobbing, catatonic mess? “I’ve been scared nearly every day of my life, eventually, you stop letting it control you and get so used to it that it’s just another day.”
He blinks, probably not expecting that. “I can understand that.”
“You can?” I counter, tilting my head. Shit, why am I talking to this bastard instead of smashing his head in and trying to escape?
Because he’s too calm, way too calm, like he knows even if I do get past him somehow, I will never get free. Which tells me more than anything that this building won’t be easy to escape from. Which makes sense if it’s the Vipers HQ.
“We’re not so different, Rox. You should remember that.” He drops his arm. “Your room is still being repaired, and before you go to beg them for help, they are ours and don’t care. Instead, let’s go relax.”
“Relax?” I yell after him, as he starts to walk away.
“Relax! It’s my day off, after all!” He laughs as I stand there, but I don’t want to be caught in Garrett’s room if what he said is true.
Hates women…why?