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Roxxane will not be like that, I can tell. She doesn’t react like a normal person, she’s wild. Uncontrolled. A nightmare for me. Not that I will let her see that. No, she will come to heel, or we’ll kill her.
Either works. For now, I’ll ignore her the best I can. I have far more important matters to deal with than one trashy little girl from the southside with anger in her eyes and pain in her heart.
Chapter Twelve
ROXY
Garrett and Diesel leave with Ryder, following behind him like little pets, only after Diesel blows me a kiss. Psycho. It leaves me with Kenzo, who I can feel staring at the side of my face. “You can explore the apartment if you wish.”
“What? Not going to lock me back up?” I snap.
“Only if you’re good.” He leans closer then. “So be good.”
His phone rings, and he picks it up, standing from the table and walking outside. He leans against the balcony as he talks, and I watch him, wondering if this is a trap. Who fucking cares? Even though I know it’s pointless, I leap up and try the front door. But it’s locked. Sighing, I look around at the rest of the apartment before deciding to explore like he said. I have nothing else to do, and I might find something handy.
I head upstairs first, my bare feet slapping against the glass. At the top is what looks like a library with a fur carpet in the middle and huge, floor-to-ceiling antique bookcases. It’s quite impressive actually. There’s a corridor to the left and one to the right. I choose left. The first door is locked, but I can hear the hum of computers behind it. Maybe a security room?
The door next is also locked, but this one has a scanner on it, so I back away, knowing they don’t want anyone getting at whatever’s in there. The very next door is unlocked, so I slip inside and look around.
It’s double the size of my room, but just as neat. A large, metal, low riding bed sits against the right wall. There are more floor-to-ceiling windows opposite me again. There’s no TV or even much furniture. Just a desk with nothing on it but a pen and a pad, but the drawers are locked—I tried them. The floor is a super soft carpet, which my feet sink into as I wander around.
The bedding is so straight and perfect, I jump on it just to mess it up a bit. The silky grey material wrinkles under me as I roll around before getting up and smiling down at my handiwork.
Like my room, there are two doors, one leads to a bathroom and the first signs of life with toiletries and a half filled hamper. The other door is a wardrobe, which is filled with suits on the left, and shining shoes on the back with two pairs of trainers underneath. Hard to imagine Ryder in for sure. To the right is what looks like grey joggers and shirts, pajama pants, and boxers. I run my hand across the perfectly ironed and hung clothing before an evil thought comes to my mind.
It’s petty, but honestly, they didn’t just expect me to sit and wait for them like a dog, did they? I have this need to push them, to find out what they are willing to do. I head back to the bathroom, searching the cupboards until I find what I’m looking for then, giggling, head back to his closet. Picking the first suit, I drag the scissors through the material, slashing and hacking until it’s ruined.
I leave only one untouched, grinning. I stare at the thousands upon thousands of pounds of perfectly tailored suits, which now lay in tatters. Proud of myself, I leave the scissors behind and exit his room. Now, what can I do to the other ones?
Heading back past the library, I travel down the other corridor to three more doors. I poke my head in the first two. The first one is certainly Diesel’s room, it’s painted black with leather cuts and jackets thrown everywhere. His bed is unmade, his room messy. There are lighters across his side table and cigarettes, and I frown when I spot some panties on his pillow which look suspiciously like mine.
Shaking my head, I leave his room alone. Who knows what he’s keeping in there. The next is neater, cleaner, but more lived in. There is a pack of cards on the side table, so it must be Kenzo’s. Not wanting to be caught snooping, I slip into the last room.
This must be Garrett’s.
The big guy is scary, really fucking scary. As in he could rip me apart without blinking,buthe also doesn’t seem to know I exist, and that makes me curious. He isn’t like the others, why?
He has a punching bag hung in one corner, and it looks well worn. A king-sized bed is pushed up in the other corner with dark sheets. His whole back wall is painted black with industrial style lights hanging above. The other wall is exposed brick. There’s a TV opposite the bed with stacks and stacks of DVDs under it. I spot some old-school horror movies, seems he’s a horror junkie.
There isn’t much else here apart from clothing and toiletries. It’s like they barely live here, this place is so…empty. Is it new? Or do they just really not spend that much time here? Sighing, I sit on his bed and look at the side table. Pulling it open curiously, I root through the junk in there before hitting a velvet box.
Pulling it out, I open it, and my eyes widen. It’s a ring, a fucking huge ring. What the—
“You shouldn’t be in here,” Kenzo drawls from the door.
Looking up, I meet his eyes unapologetically. “You told me to look around, so I am.”
Clicking the box shut, I carefully put it back in the drawer. Is Garrett married?
“I did.” He smirks. “I’ll have to be more careful of what I say in the future, but what I meant, Rox, is that you can’t be inhere.”
“Why?” I ask, tilting my head.
“If Garrett finds you in here…well, it won’t be pretty. He might seem calm and in control, but he hates women, so just stay away, okay?” He sighs.
“Hates women? Why?” I press, and he shakes his head.
“You ask a lot of questions for a captive,” Kenzo mutters, not like it’s a bad thing. His eyes light up. “Do you want to play a game?”
