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My eyes bug out of my head, caught with my hand in the cookie jar. Hell, I can’t even pretend I don’t know what he’s talking about. He’s caught me right in the act, but he’s got me wrong if he thinks I’m snooping through his phone to find out how many girls he’s been screwing. I couldn’t give a shit about that. The only thing I’m interested in is what the fuck this Empire thing is, and what I have to do with any of it.
Quickly realizing I’m not going to find anything substantial, I drop the phone to the counter with a heavy sigh before glancing toward the elevator door. I could probably still make it out of here.
I glance back toward Sawyer to find his sleepy, green gaze on me. “You won’t even get to the lobby before we find you,” he mutters. “And trust me, you won’t like what happens if you try to escape us, so do us all a favor and just play along.”
I narrow my gaze on him, frustration burning through my body. But I have to admit, at least he was nice enough to give me a warning. He could have just watched me try, only for me to end up in a situation that’ll have me wanting to strangle them . . . you know, more than I already do. “Drop dead,” I tell him.
He sits up on the couch, bracing his elbows against his knees. “Feisty this morning,” he says. “What’s up? Cross didn’t fuck you hard enough?”
As if on cue, Cross comes sailing through the apartment, scoffing as he overhears Sawyer’s comment. “You know damn well I fucked her just right,” he says, striding past me to the fridge, not even sparing me a single glance. He grabs the bottle of orange juice and lifts it to his lips, taking a quick swig.
“Use a fucking glass,” Zade spits from across the apartment, stepping out of a room I can only assume is his home office, though I have no idea what kind of business would be going on in there. Hell, up until this weekend, I assumed these guys were college students, though a niggling voice inside my head tells me I couldn’t be further from the truth.
Zade’s gaze falls to me before noticing the phone on the counter beside my hands. He’s probably assuming I was up to something shady, which I definitely was, but he doesn’t need to know that. “Well, if it isn’t the big man in charge,” I say, narrowing my gaze on him, not liking the disapproving stare in his eyes. “Kidnapped anyone this morning?”
“No one worth mentioning,” he throws back at me, striding through the kitchen and heading for the espresso machine.
My jaw clenches, and I whip around, fixing him with a hard stare. “You’re a real fucking asshole, you know that, right?”
Zade scoffs and steps into me, those psychotic eyes locked on mine. “Oh yeah? Considering this asshole is the only reason you’re still fucking breathing, I’d suggest you shut your mouth and watch who you’re talking to. Otherwise, you might just find yourself locked in a cement cell. I know how you like those.”
A grin pulls at the corner of my lips. “Wow, you think so highly of yourself.Watch who you’re talking to,” I say with a scoff, mimicking his deep tone. “Here’s how this is going to happen. You’re going to stop with the tough guy act and be fucking real with me. Tell me who you are, what you want with me, why the fuck I was invited to that ball last night, and make it quick. I’ve had just about enough of you and your friends thinking you can come busting into my life, balls to the fucking wall, and start making demands. So please, hurry the fuck up and tell me what I want to know because I’d rather shoot myself through the eye than have to spend another minute here with you.”
His eyes flash with something sinister, and I watch as he reaches behind himself. A gun appears in his hand and he presses it into my chest. “Go ahead then,” he challenges. “Shoot yourself. Because the only way you’ll be getting out of here before I’m through with you is in a body bag.”
The room gets scarily quiet as I take the gun from him, our gazes locked with nothing but a fierce tension between us. The metal is both cold and heavy in my hand, and I realize this is a test.
He knows damn well I’m not about to put a bullet through my head, but what he doesn’t know is just how far I’m willing to take this.
Positioning the gun in my hand, I let my finger slide through and rest on the trigger. My gaze lingers on the gun, taking it in before lifting my eyes back to Zade’s. “You don’t think I’ll do it,” I throw back at him, my tone matching the sinister gaze in his eye.
“I know you won’t.”
Lifting the gun, I raise it to the side of my head, letting him see the crazy in my eyes while noticing the way Cross and Sawyer become extremely still. “Are you willing to bet your life on it?”
Zade doesn’t respond, and the longer I hold his stare, the quicker his face starts to fall. Unease flashes in his eyes, and I let a smirk twist across my lips. I watch as he starts to question himself, wondering if he’s misjudged me, then just to prove my point, I put on the performance of a lifetime, jumping as a sharp gasp escapes through my lips.
His eyes widen, fear paralyzing him and he jolts toward me. “NO!” he roars, reaching for me just moments before realizing his mistake. That fear quickly morphs into rage and he snatches the gun out of my hand as my veins fill with power.
I smirk back at him, smugness consuming me. “Uh-oh. It looks like someone just showed his hand,” I whisper, raising my chin as my chest presses up against his. “You may not give a shit about what happens to me, but after your little performance at the ball last night and your embarrassing act of desperation just now, it’s clear that whatever you need me for, you need me alive.”
Zade grips my chin, that stare of his sending chills down my spine. “I may need you alive,” he admits, “but that doesn’t mean I need you in one fucking piece. Fuck with me again, and I won’t hesitate to make you wish you were dead.”
With that, he releases me and walks away, shoving the gun into the waistband of his pants before balling his hands into fists at his side.
Unease consumes me, and I catch myself against the counter, trying to find a moment to breathe when a body moves in behind me. My back stiffens as Dalton’s familiar scent wraps around me. “You’re playing with fire,” he warns me. “You need to back down before you find yourself in a shallow grave.”
I whip around, not liking the tone in his voice, and come face to face with those blazing blue eyes. “Then tell me what the hell is going on,” I demand, the desperation pulsing through my veins. “Because if you assholes expect me to fall in line and be the perfect little prisoner, then you’re going to have to start offering some answers in return. If my life is at risk, then I need to know so I can better protect myself.”
Dalton watches me a moment before glancing at Cross over my shoulder and then to Sawyer. The three of them seem to have some kind of silent conversation, and just as Dalton lets out a heavy sigh, seemingly ready to give me what I want, Zade comes striding back in.
“We can’t give you the answers you’re looking for, Oakley,” he says, a hint of regret flashing in his eyes.
“Then what can you tell me?”
Zade presses his lips into a tight line before letting out a heavy breath. He steps back and pulls out a chair at his dining table, indicating for me to take a seat. I do just that, stepping out of Dalton’s space and reluctantly moving past Zade.
I take a seat as Zade moves to the opposite end of the table, bracing his hands against the back of the chair while Dalton comes closer and leans against the edge of the counter. I can’t help but feel as though I’ve been called to the principal’s office, and when Sawyer and Cross start to move in too, that feeling only gets stronger.
