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Her words cut me. I hate that I know she's right. But I don't want her to see that, so I huff and say, "If you love someone else, you shouldn't be allowing Riggs to touch you."
Her face hardens. "Grow up, Blakely. Good luck at the club." She spins and opens the door, slamming it behind her.
I take a few breaths to calm myself, then turn.
Riggs leans against the hallway wall, his arms crossed, scowl pinned on me.
I walk past him, then go into the bedroom. I step into the empty closet.
"What are you doing?" he asks.
I spin. "If you're keeping me here, where are my clothes? I want to put something clean on."
"Maybe that's all you get."
I smirk. "Rule twelve states you have to provide clothing."
His face hardens. "Ah, yes. And I believe that's under the Rules of Engagement During Playtime, isn't it?"
My gut drops.
He adds, "Besides, it looks to me like you're wearing clothes. It seems I've fulfilled my duty."
"Don't be a dick," I hurl.
He lunges toward me, and I step back until I'm against the wall. He slides his hand in my hair behind my head and grasps it tight so I'm unable to look anywhere but at him. His hot breath hits my lips as he states, "Do you think you're the first brat I've broken in?"
My breath hitches, my pulse skyrockets, and the red rage I've felt since he brought me here reignites to an all-time high. I retort, "I'm not a brat."
"No? You sure are acting like one."
"Maybe you should look at your actions."
His eyes turn to slits. "Let's get something straight right now."
I glare at him.
He threatens, "I'm in charge, not you. And you'll speak to me respectfully, or there'll be consequences."
"Respect is earned. Maybeyoushould learnthat."
Hot tension escalates as anger flares on his face. His chest heaves with every breath, and he grinds his molars, shooting darts at me with his pinned gaze.
I swallow hard, not wanting to back down but wondering if I've pushed him too far. And every time that thought crosses my mind, I reprimand myself.
He chose to bring Aria into this, not me.
He steps back and sneers, "Let's go."
"Where?"
"Does it matter?"
I don't say anything and don't move.
He steps out of the closet and warns, "Get in the car, or I'll lock you in this apartment for days."
I debate only a few more seconds and realize he'd do it. The last thing I believe is that Riggs bluffs on his threats. I quietly follow him through the apartment and get into the Porsche.
