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And waited.
Until I was certain Chandler wasn’t home. It was nearly eleven o’clock. Surely, he would have been up by now.
I opened the elevator and stepped inside. The doors closed in front of me, and my skin prickled with nervousness as I let out a long exhale. I stared at the keypad and recalled Grey’s threat.
The elevator requires a code to operate, and the door to the fire escape won’t unlock without a key. So, unless you plan on jumping twenty-one floors onto a slab of concrete, I suggest you stay put and make yourself at home.
Patterns of numbers from familiar songs and phrases flashed through my mind. If I’d known more about this man, like his birthdate or phone number, I might have had a better head start.Knowing he was infuriatingly gorgeous with words as sharp as a scorpion’s sting didn’t get me very far.
For a solid hour, I punched in code after code. Three-digit numbers. Four-digit numbers. All different patterns. Until my head started to throb with an oncoming headache. This was impossible. The combinations were infinite, and I didn’t even know how many numbers to push. I wished now that I’d been paying attention when Grey first brought me here.
Finally, I gave up, went to the kitchen and plopped down on a barstool. I scrubbed my eyes, needing to clear my thoughts. There had to be a way. Even if I could get in one of those locked rooms and find something, anything, to use as a weapon.Because the knife idea worked out so well.I was also pretty sure I’d seen a gun tucked into the back of his pants when I followed him up the stairs last night. Okay, so no weapons. But maybe there was an office, and an office would have a phone, or at the very least, a computer.
Oh my god, the kitchen. Silverware. Why didn’t I think of that last night?
I jumped up and rummaged through the drawers until I found a kitchen knife.Jackpot.
My stomach twisted in knots with every step I took until I found myself staring at the dark wood of Chandler’s bedroom door. Fear crept up my spine at the thought of him coming home and finding out what I’d done, or worse, catching me mid-act. He hadn’t hurt me so far, but that didn’t mean he wouldn’t.
I felt like a criminal, like a burglar trespassing where I didn’t belong. I knew nothing about breaking a lock. I didn’t even have my phone to YouTube it.
My gaze moved from the silver doorknob, to the lock, to the slim crack, as I wondered where to begin. The obvious option was to stick the sharp point into the keyhole and turn, but that didn’t work. Not a surprise. I supposed if it was that easy, people would break into locks all the time. My heart raced. At any minute, Chandler could have walked up, and there was no telling what he would do.
I squatted down and found where the latch met the door frame, then slid the knife in the tiny slit and wiggled.
Nothing.
A strand of hair fell across my forehead and over my eye, so I blew it away with a huff. And then I tried again. There was a metal plate surrounding the latch that kept me from pushing it in. So, I took the knife and all my strength, and I jammed it behind the plate, prying it away from the doorframe. The wood split and the crack widened, leaving me room to push the latch with the knife.
The door swung open.
I was in.
Oh my god.I was in.
His bedroom was every bit as crisp and masculine as the rest of the place. The floors were a dark hardwood with a large, plush gray rug that covered most of it. He also had a wall of windows just like the one in the living room, but the view was hidden behind dark blue shades. His furniture was stark white with blue bedding. His walls were bare except for a slim, rectangular fireplace across from his bed.
I looked everywhere for something, anything. A phone. A laptop. A clue as to why I’d been taken. Something with the elevator code written on it. A key to the fire escape. I hoped to find literallyanything. I searched dresser drawers and nightstands. I looked in bathroom cabinets and through the clothes in his closet. What I found was nothing other than an outrageous watch collection, a drawer full of ties rolled up and organized by color, and more shoes than any one person should own.
As soon as I backed out of his room and pulled his door closed, the elevator doors slid open downstairs.
Shit.
I hurried across the hall, slammed the door shut and held my breath. My blood froze in my veins, paralyzing me while I waited for him to realize what I’d done. It was only a matter of time. My legs threatened to give out, so I sat on the bed.
Less than two minutes later, his voice echoed off the walls. “What the fuck did you do?”
The door to my room slammed open. “What thefuckdid you do?” he yelled again.
I swallowed hard, fear gripping my throat.
“Did you break into my room? Did you dig through my shit?” Chandler stood in my doorway, his stare piercing as he held the knife I’d used to pry open the door in his hand.
“Yes or no, Princess? It’s pretty fucking simple.” He walked farther into my room.
“I needed answers and you wouldn’t give them to me, so I went looking for them myself.” If I could have just found out why I was here, I could have found a way to make him let me go.
“You keep saying you want answers. You keep begging for the truth. Here it is…” He stood in front of where I sat on the bed and tipped my chin upward with his fingers. “Your father is not a good man. Grey Van Doren is not a good man.I’mnot a good man.” His voice was calm and steady as he brought the knife to the hollow of my throat.
The steel tip pricked my flesh but didn’t break skin. Not yet, anyway. My fists clenched the comforter at my sides. Other than that, I didn’t move. I didn’t swallow. I didn’t even breathe.
“Do you know what happens when you fuck with bad men, Princess?” His gaze moved from my eyes to where the knife touched my throat, then back up again.
I sucked in a startled breath when my eyes caught a glimpse of the erection straining against his pants—the thick, hard ridges all outlined in perfect detail. I squeezed my eyes shut, fighting to block out the dark thoughts seeping out of my mind.Surely, he wouldn’t…
My body hummed with tension I didn’t quite understand, like a string that had been plucked and left to vibrate. Was this what true fear felt like? No. This wasn’t fear. This was something else, something darker than fear. This was a soul-crushing blend of anger, heat and shame. I’d never felt anything like it.
The brightness of his eyes turned dark and stormy. “Bad things.”
