Page 22 of The Penthouse


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“We can’t do that,” Christian cuts in. “And I think you know that.”

He’s holding a small backpack with the soot sprites fromSpirited Awayprinted all over it.

I know that bag…

My stomach drops when the realization hits me: it belongs to Stephanie, one of my coworkers who didn’t show up last week. We’d bonded over it in the break room just last month. And when I take a closer look at the duffel bag, I notice it’s the one Nicole bought a week ago.

If I wasn’t panicking before, I sure as hell am now.

“Brie—” Michael starts, but I turn and run back into the room I slept in. I throw the door closed, but it flies back open.

Crap. It’s still broken from when Josh barreled through it last night.

You stupid fucking bitch, I scold myself. I can’t be mad at anyone but myself. I put myself in this position, and now I’m likely going to die for it.

I run into the bathroom and lock the door behind me. They’re there in an instant, banging on the door and shouting for me to come out.

“Leave me alone!”

“Come out, princess,” Christian says softly, sounding slightly amused. “We won’t bite. Well… I might.”

“This isn’t funny, Christian,” Michael scolds. “She’s afraid of us.”

Afraid is an understatement. I’m locked in this penthouse in the clouds with three total strangers and the belongings of my coworkers who I thought were just no call, no shows.

I’m fuckingterrified.

“Baby,” Michael says softly, but loud enough for me to hear him. “Can you please unlock the door so we can talk?”

“No! You’re serial killers, is that it? What number victim will I be? How many girls did you kill before you brought me here?”

“Brie—”

“Where are Nicole and Stephanie?”

“Who?” Josh asks. He sounds impatient.

I take a deep breath to calm my nerves. My body is shaking so hard, I have to wrap my arms around myself to keep from falling apart.

Something was telling me not to trust them. Deep down, that nagging part of my subconscious was screaming at me to leave when I had the chance, and I blew it. Now, I’m trapped in the very situation I’ve spent my entire life trying to avoid falling victim to. The only hope I have now is that they’ll give me a quick death.

When my nerves have finally settled, I open the door and face my fate.

The three of them take a step back to allow me space to leave the bathroom. They’re quiet, waiting to see if I’ll freak out again.

“Brie?”

I look at Michael, his handsome face imploring.

“Please hear us out.”

Nodding, I take the lead to the kitchen. All the blinds are up to give us a dazzling morning view of the city. If I wasn’t so scared, I’d be able to appreciate the beauty of it.

My stomach growls loudly, so I stalk to the kitchen and peruse its contents. There’s hardly anything in here, but I find half a carton of eggs, a couple strips of bacon that are almost too bad to eat, and a slice of bread.

“For billionaires, you barely have any food,” I grumble at them, turning to find the pan I need to make my breakfast.

“We don’t cook much,” Josh says from behind me. “Delivery is our best friend.”

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