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Zade lets out a huff, and I jump up from the couch and skip across the room to grab the phone. “Oh, while we’re at it,” I say, the phone wedged between my ear and shoulder as my fingers hover over the buttons to dial Benny. “What’s the ETA on the whole clothes situation? When am I getting those back?”
“You’re fucking kidding, right?” he questions. “You destroyed all of my clothes.”
I scoff and shrug my shoulders, more than happy to gaslight him into thinking he’s exaggerating. “It was a few shirts and some underwear. What’s the problem? You’re a billionaire . . . at least, I think you are. Wait,” I say, my eyes widening as I gape at Zade. “Is it rude to ask people if they’re billionaires?”
He just stares at me. “It was a shitload more than just a few shirts and underwear. You tore through over a million dollars of designer suits.”
I stare at him in horror. “You’re lying,” I breathe. “Like that was a couple thousand dollars at most, right? Spare change to you.”
He arches a brow, his silence speaking volumes, and suddenly the idea of getting my hair done seems so trivial. I cut up over a million dollars of suits. What the fuck is wrong with me? I should have googled that shit before going ass to the wall with the scissors.
My stomach clenches, feeling sick about it, but considering he hasn’t torn me a new asshole about it, perhaps a million dollars is only spare change to him. Perhaps I’m looking at this the wrong way.
Zade doesn’t push me on it, and before I can talk myself out of this, I press the button on the receiver for the hotel concierge.
“Holla,” Benny calls down the line, all too thrilled about being able to serve Zade. “What do you need, Mr. DeVil.”
“Hey, Benny. It’s Oakley,” I say, something brightening within me. There’s something about Benny that just makes me feel alive. His sunshine is contagious.
He lets out a playful sigh. “Oh, Miss Oakley. Hungry again? Perhaps I need to get you the direct number for the kitchen.”
I laugh, knowing that would be more than helpful. “Thanks, but I actually need something else,” I tell him, not really sure how all of this works. Before becoming Zade’s hostage in his fancy penthouse, I’d never even visited a hotel before, let alone stayed in one. “I’m wondering if you happened to have a good hair stylist on speed dial? A mobile one who could come up here this morning and do my hair?”
“Of course,” Benny says. “I’ll make a few calls and have someone come up shortly. Shall I charge it to Mr. DeVil’s credit card?”
A wide smile stretches across my face, and I meet Zade’s stare across the room. “Yes, Mr. DeVil’s credit card would be great.”
Benny ends the call with a promise to order a burger for my lunch and have it sent up later, making sure to add an extra serving of fries and my favorite diet soda.
An hour later, there’s a knock at the door, and Easton, who’s freshly showered and making my mouth water, crosses to the door and welcomes the hairdresser. He shows her to the dining table where she quickly sets up, her eyes widening as she catches sight of Dalton and Zade across the room.
I make my way over and take a seat at the table before telling her what I want, and she quickly gets to work. “So, like . . . You just live here with all of these hot guys?” the hairdresser questions.
I bark a sharp laugh, getting a side eye from Zade. “Yeah, something like that,” I tell her, scooting a little lower in my chair and gazing out the window at the impressive view below.
We fall into mindless chatter just like every time I visit the hairdresser, and within only a few minutes, the boys are scurrying away, already bored out of their minds. They head into Zade’s home office, and I don’t miss the way they leave the door wide open, not trusting me not to try and make a break for it. But I don’t know what they’re expecting to happen. Do they think I’ll shrink-wrap myself and threaten the hairdresser to shove me in her bag and take me out of here?
After twenty minutes, I’ve learned my hairdresser’s name is Sarah, and she’s been working at the salon across the street for seven years with hopes of opening her own salon one day. She has a boyfriend who has commitment issues and a dog who struggles to control his bowels when he gets nervous.
I smile and chat along, answering her questions as best I can while keeping it all very vague, knowing the boys won’t approve of me so casually sharing details about my life right now. If anything, Zade needs me to fade away and become invisible. The fewer people looking for me after the dreaded sixtieth moon, the better.
