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Bull: You do realize if she ever finds out, you’re fucked. Like seriously fucked. Like you could lose your company and go to jail fucked.
I smirk.
Me: She’s worth getting fucked over.
He responds with the hand flipping the bird emoji. Gwen starts cleaning up her mess in the kitchen, so I stand and shove my phone into my pocket. I stalk down the hallway because I want to steal a moment alone with Violet. She’s been teasing me in her sexy little dress all night. But when I approach the bathroom, the door is ajar and she’s not inside.
Fuck.
I rush into my room first because I worry I’ve left my chest open. Once I realize it’s still locked, but she’s not there, dread fills my chest.
Oh, God, no.
I take off down the hall to the other side of the house. The side I never want Violet to see. No other woman I’ve ever brought home has dared leave my bedroom or the living room. They were there for one reason only. But since Violet is here “as friends,” I guess she’s taken it upon herself to explore.
“Violet,” I holler as I stalk down the long hallway of my giant house. There’s a reason why Gwen stays on the other side. When I near her rooms, the stench hits me. I hardly ever come over here, and the housekeeper has been forbidden to step foot past my bedroom. Bile creeps in my throat when I find that one of the doors is open. Her bedroom. The fucking worst.
I pull my shirt up to cover my nose and mouth. Violet stands just inside the doorway. Her entire body is frozen stiff as she stares.
“Fuck.”
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
VIOLET
GRAY’S VOICE is muffled as he curses behind me. My stomach roils as I take in the scene before me. Madness. Absolute chaos. I’m so shocked because the other parts of the house are immaculate and pristine. But this…this is sick.
“Violet,” Gray hisses as he grabs my elbow.
I jerk my arm from his grip and stare at the dump. Dump is a nice word. It’s an absolute shithole. I’d barely gotten through an episode of Hoarders once a few years back. After they found a dead cat under some debris in an old woman’s house, I shut it off and scrubbed my bathtub until I could see my reflection.
This is worse.
The stink is sickening. Rot. Mildew. Sour...something. Yuck. The potato skins I ate moments earlier, before I went exploring, threaten to make a reappearance. From floor to damn near the ceiling, this room is piled high with junk. Not just junk but trash. Trash! Somewhere in the middle of the chaos is a bed. Shit has been piled up on the bed as well. Only a small portion remains uncovered. Where that person sleeps. Whose room is this?
“Gwen,” Gray mutters as if to answer my unspoken question.
He told me she was sick, but not like this. This is something else. I see something run across her bed and I let out a scream. A strong hand covers my mouth from behind. I’m dragged out of the room and the door slams shut. The stink lingers in my nostrils, and I feel like I’ll throw up at any second. I fall limp in Gray’s grip as he retreats quickly down the hallway. I expect him to drag me back to the living room but instead, he pulls me into what must be his bedroom, hence the familiar masculine scent. I inhale it in hopes of ridding my nose of the disgusting stench from Gwen’s room.
My body trembles and he hugs me tight against him. With my back pressed against his chest and his strong arm around my middle, awareness prickles through me. Slowly, he peels away his hand from my mouth.
“I’m sorry.”
Guilt rushes through me. “I-I overreacted.”
He nuzzles his nose against my hair and groans. “You didn’t. It’s…it’s not something that people besides her and I see. I didn’t prepare you. It’s disgusting. I’m sorry you had to see it.”
“Things were living there,” I hiss, my voice quivering on the line between hysteria and calm. I’m pretty sure it was a big mouse but I can’t be certain.
“I know,” he growls. “Trust me. I pay a fucking exterminator to come out every week to try and deal with it.”
“You pull it all out and throw it away. That’s how you deal with it,” I exclaim.
He releases me, and when I turn to look at him, his palms scrub over his handsome face in frustration. “If it were that easy, the shit would have been hauled away a long time ago. This is…this is something she’s learned. It’s been ingrained in her since birth.”
I frown at him when he stalks over to a chest in the room. He sits on it and then regards me with a despondent look.
“Our mother is worse,” he murmurs, shame coating his features.
Big, powerful, neat-as-hell Grayson Maxwell is surrounded by a family of hoarders.
“Your father?” I ask, my voice soft.
He shakes his head. “He’s the cause, honestly. Mom always collected things in our basement. But when Gwen got sick, she started trying to record and save all her moments. Both of them became obsessed with collecting things. It drove my dad crazy. He ended up spending more and more time at his apartment in the city near his office. Eventually, he never came home.”
My stomach roils when I imagine his mother’s house. How could it be worse than that?
“So, they’re divorced?”
He sighs. “No. He paid off the house and always saw to it that she had enough money.” He pauses and his eyes shift away, but I don’t miss the storm brewing in them. “She won’t ever leave the house, though. I’ve taken over paying utilities and sending groceries to the house. Dad won’t come see her. They’re married, but he hasn’t seen her probably in twenty years.”
I gape at him. I suppose everyone has skeletons in their closets. His are apparently full of hoarded skeletons.
“She needs help,” I tell him softly. “That can’t be safe.”
He stands and prowls over to me, anger written all over his face. I flinch when he raises his hand. The action makes his hard features crumple. Vaughn has ruined me forever.
“She used to see a therapist each week but eventually got angry with Dr. Ward and quit going. We’ve tried everything. At first, it was just her room. Then, she took over two more rooms. I refuse to let her take over anymore. Sometimes, she brings her things to Mom’s. They find room in that shithole somehow.”
I swallow and close my eyes when he touches my cheek. His other hand grips my hip and he drags me closer. I love that his masculine scent is quickly chasing away the horrible one from Gwen’s room. He rests his forehead against mine, and it grounds me. Something about this guy affects me.
His mouth is so close to mine, and if I were to tilt my head up, I’d be able to kiss him. I want to kiss him. But a kiss will lead to more. I’m certainly not ready for more with him.
“I should go,” I murmur, trying to ignore the way his thumb rubs my hip.
“I wish you didn’t have to.”
I place my hands on his firm chest that I’d love to explore more and push him away. “Can you take me please?” I bite on my lip and frown. “And please don’t tell her I…saw.”
He shakes his head. “I won’t. It would send her into a tailspin that I can’t afford to mentally deal with. I have too much else on my mind.”
It reminds me that he’s a successful businessman who spends his day acquiring hotels and businesses left and right. But a small part of me hopes that I’m also on his mind.
“Let’s go then,” I breathe out.
His gaze falls to my lips and he clenches his jaw before nodding his agreement.
I WAKE up in a cold sweat.
And naked.
Why do I keep undressing in my sleep? Am I sleepwalking again?
Dread consumes me. It’s been years since I’ve had the night sweats where I would find myself in various places around the apartment. What’s triggered this? Is it Gray?
I squeeze my eyes shut and will myself to sleep. But then I hear it. A ping. I jolt upright in bed and still my breath. Then a creak.
Holy shit.
The hair sticks up on the back of my ne
ck. Someone is in my house. I slide out of bed and snag my gun from under the mattress. I keep it loaded and ready to fire. Once I have it in my grip, I call out in a shaky voice.
“Who’s there?”
Thud. Thud. Thud.
The footsteps are heavy and a scream gets lodged in my throat. He’s coming for me. It’s Vaughn. He’s here and he’s going to drag me back home with him by my hair.
No!
I stumble backward until my bare ass hits the wall with the gun wobbling out in front of me. It’s dark aside from the moonlight pouring in from the open curtain.
The front door swings open and crashes against the wall before slamming again. My heart jackknifes in my chest. I bolt through the apartment and then twist all the locks into place. As soon as the last one engages, I start to cry.
He was here.
