A weight settles in my stomach when my eyes cautiously scan my surroundings–the gray wall that isn’t mine, the dresser that’s alsonotmine. Black velvet curtains. Definitelynot mine.Andthe bed–the ridiculously oversized, swallow-you-whole bed–also not mine.
My heart thunders harder, anxiety crawling up my throat. I try to drag in a breath before I completely lose my mind and squeeze my eyes shut.
“Trust me.”
Karson’s voice slices through the fog, and the memory crashes into me like a tidal wave. His hand around my throat, the balcony, the drop, and his storm-cloud-gray gaze.
My eyes snap open. My breathing frays as my hands ball into tight fists. My nails bite into my palms, the sting helping ground me. Keeping them clenched, my pulse begins to slow allowing my brain the chance to get with the program.
Pushing the covers off me, the first thing I notice is my bare legs. My eyes travel up the length of them, stopping at the hem of a long, black shirt.
Also not. Fucking. Mine.
Swinging my legs over the side of the mattress, my bare toes touch the plush carpet.
He’d never let me fall.
Everything comes back at warp speed. That damned realization, the frigid temperature of the shower, and the shirt that was left on the bed for me. Me slipping on the shirt and sliding into the sheets on auto-pilot, and staring at a wall until my eyelids felt like cinder blocks.
I can’t believe I actually stayed here. Under the same roof with the man who literally dangled my life in the air.
He’d never let me fall.
Irritated, I huff as I rise from the bed and reach for my phone on the nightstand, only to find it not there. Confused, I look around the room and see my purse sitting on the dresser. Rushing over, I dig through it, sighing in relief when I pluck the device out. My relief quickly washed away when I notice thebattery is dead–killing any hopes I had of calling someone to get me out of here.
That explains the silence.
How the hell did I manage to pass out without music? Ever since I was little, I haven't been able to sleep without noise. First it was the television, then it was music that lulled me to sleep. Without it, all I heard were memories of shouting and breaking furniture. Before my fucked up mind gets the chance to hold me hostage, I shake my head and keep moving.
I need to get my clothes and get the hell out of here.
Walking into the bathroom, I notice they’re not on the floor. They’re not on the counter either, or anywhere in the bedroom when I go back to check.
Did he take my clothes?
Stifling the frustrated scream that bubbles in my chest, I look toward the curtained window. Sunlight peeks through the top, but barely. It’s just starting to come up and if I want to get out of here, I have to be quiet. Back at the dresser, I shove my phone back in the bag and slowly pull out my car keys. I don’t care that all I’m wearing is his t-shirt, I’m leaving. The patrons in the casino can kiss my ass if they have anything to say about it. Fisting the keys tightly in my hand so they don’t jingle, I sling my purse over my shoulder and take slow steps to the door.
The perk of being a “ghost” most of my life? I’ve mastered moving around undetected. Tiptoeing down the hall, I pause to scan the open living space and out the balcony doors. Not seeing him anywhere, I know that now is my chance.
Quickening my steps, I silently rush through the living room and toward the exit. The door opens as I reach for the handle, dread washing over me as a pair of gray eyes and a sideways smirk stop me in my tracks.
“Going somewhere, doll?”
Her skin palesas her crystal blues widen. I push into the entryway, and she instinctively steps back. My grin grows as I shut the door behind me.
Smart dolly.
My eyes trail from her shocked face down the length of her. She looks absolutely stunning in nothing but my shirt. It’s definitely too big for her, hanging off one freckled shoulder. Her nipples poke through the fabric that stops just above her knees and I push down a groan. She shuffles from one foot to the other, unsure if she should stay right where she is or run.
She’s always running, and she’s fast. But I’m faster.
“You were going to leave in nothing but my shirt?” I lift a brow, pocketing my cell phone.
I didn't sleep last night. Most of it I sat on pins and needles like a damn guard dog waiting for her to run. Twenty minutes ago, I exited the penthouse to pace up and down the hallway, to try and get rid of some of the excess energy I’ve been feeling tohopefullyground myself.
News flash: I failed.
What she doesn't know is there are cameras all over the apartment. So when she got out of bed, I got a notification. I watched as she tried to make her grand escape, and cut her off when freedom was at her fingertips.
