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A few deep breaths help calm me down a little. It could be worse, right? At least I’m in a bed. At least this isn’t some shithole.
And at least I know he won’t let Prince touch me like he tried yesterday. Of all things, that memory gives me the most comfort. Enzo was a complete madman when he burst in here and yanked his friend off me. If it wasn’t for that, I’d be even more nervous at having my hands tied up, unable to defend myself.
While that memory eases some of my fear, it doesn’t do much for my physical misery. Every muscle aches, and every joint is stiff and sore from having to lie here at all kinds of awkward angles. I never knew until now how much I need the use of my arms, even when I’m doing something as routine as sleeping. I couldn’t roll over or adjust the blankets. I can’t even brush the hair away from my face right now, no matter how hard I try to blow the few strands out of my eyes, and it’s driving me crazy.
He can’t leave me like this all day. Can he? The sun’s been up for ages, a bright rectangle slowly inches its way from the floor to the wall opposite the window. I’ve heard movement elsewhere in the house. He has to know I’m going to need to pee, right? It’s starting to go from a mild pressure to something a lot more demanding.
I’m sure he’s trying to punish me a little more, the sick fuck. Making sure I’m good and sorry by the time he comes back to untie me. What did I do in a past life that led me to this? Because my karma must be seriously fucked.
“Untie me, please,” I yell at the top of my lungs for Enzo, or anyone really. “I need to use the bathroom.”
The door opens, and Enzo strolls in, looking me over before offering a wry little smirk. “You look good like this. Has anyone ever told you that?” he asks without acknowledging my request.
I don’t want to answer, but I don’t want to give him any more reasons to be mad at me. “This is the first time I’ve ever been tied up like this.”
I wish my heart wouldn’t seize up like it does whenever I see him. It’s too close to the way I used to feel when I was in middle school, and the boy I had a crush on would walk into homeroom on a Monday morning. Seeing him for the first time after the weekend always gave me that funny feeling in my chest. Is having a crush that close to the sensation of looking at the man who could blow your brains out at the drop of a hat?
His smile widens as he approaches the bed. “You mean I popped your cherry? Wow, this is a special honor.”
“Please,” I whisper when he doesn’t make a move toward the ropes. “I really have to use the bathroom. Can you untie me?”
“Oh, so you think you’re too good to lie in your piss?” He stands over me, scowling.
I realize he’s serious. This isn’t a joke to him, or maybe it is. Maybe he sees me as nothing more than a game to fiddle with.
“You want me to do it right here in the bed?” I whisper, horrified. Is there any end to the humiliation he wants to inflict?
He rolls his eyes before leaning over me to reach the headboard. “No, I don’t expect you to do it right here. You think I feel like buying a new mattress?”
His touch on my wrists makes me flinch—but under that is something else. A shiver, and not a bad one, either. The sort of shiver that means anticipation.
He takes his time about it, though. His hands linger on me, his movements slow and deliberate. It makes me think back to something that flashed through my panicked, dismayed brain yesterday when he got me back in this room after catching me. He likes this. I’d swear on anything that this is getting him off for some reason. Is he that broken?
Then again, I’m the one shivering in anticipation of his touch. Maybe I don’t have any room to talk.
The blood starts flowing back to my hands as soon as the rope is gone, and I bite my lip against a pained groan. He’s not sympathetic, but that comes as no surprise.
“Let’s go. Do you think I have all day? You’re the one who said you need to—”
I move before he finishes the thought, wincing as I get up from the bed. He clicks his tongue in mock sympathy before taking me by the arm, pulling me out into the hall, and leading me down to the bathroom.
“Don’t make me fucking regret giving you privacy,” he warns, shoving me into the room. “Abuse the privilege, and you’ll have an audience from now on.”
I nod shyly, fear and dread tying my tongue. He scowls at me again before closing the door. I know better than to think he’ll move away from it.
But it’s okay. At least he left me alone. I take care of business quickly, then wash my hands and face. I might as well since I don’t know when I’ll have the next opportunity. While doing that, I bounce up and down on the balls of my feet, stretching my legs. I don’t know when I’ll get the next chance to do that, either.
It would be stupid to think I could get away with using a weapon on him when I know he’ll be watching everything I do. Besides, there isn’t anything in sight that can be used to protect me. My sights land on the drawer, but there isn’t enough time to search. The next time he allows me to use the bathroom, I’ll look around. Maybe I’ll be lucky enough to find something to hide somewhere for when the moment arises to try to get away again.
“Let’s go. You don’t need to run the water that long.” He’s right outside the door, his voice loud and clear enough that it’s like he’s pressed his mouth to the crack.
Shutting off the faucet, I dry my hands on the hand towel hanging next to the sink, then open the door to find him looking murderous.
“I’m sorry. I just wanted to freshen up a little.”
“Who are you trying to impress?” he growls, pulling me down the hall again. It’s been almost a full day, but he still hasn’t cooled off any.
“You know, this could all go away, this whole misunderstanding.” My insides clutch at the sight of the rope lying on the bed. I can’t stand the thought of being tied up again. He seems like a man who knows how to negotiate when he has to—no, he’s not working in a boardroom or anything like that, but I’m sure he’s made deals before. This isn’t some low-level flunky. Not in a house like this, dressed the way he is.
