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Despite every nerve ending in my body demanding for him to put me down, when he placed me in the passenger seat of the vehicle sitting out back, I stopped fighting. Frozen in place, I looked at the steel door leading intoCake Creations, knowing the pain my friend must be feeling on the other side. It’s that thought alone that had me turning in my seat and placing my feet inside the SUV.
Wade had threatened her, with a gun, and trashed her shop, all because of me. If she felt this was the best course of action, then I had to trust her. I’ve done it a million times before, now shouldn’t be any different. Not when Wade is involved.
I’m going to assume he didn’t go into much detail with her, but things are bad. Things arereallyfucking bad—life-or-death bad—and I’m royally screwed.
I hadn’t thought anything of it this morning, but that was probably because I was too wrapped up in the visit Wade had paid me last night too. I can still taste the metal in my mouth from when he forced his gun past my lips, eyes bloodshot red as he screamed at me in pure anger.
The fact that I’m fleeing now, with some security guy taking the lead, is not going to work in my favor either. He’s coming for me, there’s no alternative here. Gone was the hottie I met at the gym, whose muscles had muscles, and whose smile could melt the fucking sun. Everything that lurked behind the façade he put on was pure evil.
He is a dangerous man, far more dangerous than I could have ever imagined, but none of this was my fault. He has just involuntarily made me his scapegoat, and there’s nothing I can do about it.
As much as I try to focus on my latest read, the book Elsie managed to slip me before sending me to my impending imprisonment, I can’t seem to absorb the words. Nothing settles in. Eventually, I give up, closing it with a grunt as I turn my attention to the view outside the window.
I watch as the gray high-rises thin out, the city being left behind me without a second thought, and feel numb to the core. I don’t know how this has suddenly become my life, but I feel lost.
Lost is such a small, inconsequential word, but the meaning behind it can be soul destroying. I moved to New York for a better future, away from my backward hometown that still believed homosexuality was a gift from the devil, but it seems it only forced me into the hands of the devil himself.
Now, I’m literally lost, both in my own mind and where I am geographically in the world. Screwed is an understatement.
Without the radio on, I try to focus on the vehicles driving by, anything to pull me from my dark thoughts as the surrounding area continues to dwindle in both the number of buildings and overall population. I have no idea how long we’ve been driving, but when the SUV slows, turning toward a gated plot of land, I frown in confusion.
Mr. Hot and Broody doesn’t utter a word as the gates slowly open before us, leading to a long, winding stone driveway. Perfectly manicured lawns flank either side, and a few trees line the perimeter inside of the high bricked wall. It takes a moment for the property to finally come into view, and when it does, it takes my breath away.
A yellow stone Mediterranean-style house appears, the word mansion floating around in my mind as we edge closer. A pang of awe fills my stomach as I gape up at the large, stunning windows and huge double doors.
“Where the hell are we?” I ask, surprise laced in every word as the asshole beside me scoffs.
“Nowhere,” he retorts. And when I turn to face him, he just winks.
Yup, Mr. Hot and Broody is definitely an asshole.
Taking him in from head to toe, from his cropped brown hair, stormy brown eyes, the perfectly groomed facial hair making him look even hotter, all the way down to his shiny black shoes: he’s trouble. A huge heap of trouble. And far too distracting right now.
When I meet his gaze, he grins, catching me checking him out, and I instantly look away, clearing my throat as I think of anything at all to distract me from the fact that I just ogled the fuck out of him. “Why couldn’t I bring my phone?” I’d asked earlier, but he had remained silent, completely ignoring me. Let’s hope he’s more open to conversation now.
“Because your phone can be tracked, and someone following us out here is the complete opposite of what we want.” The honest answer catches me by surprise as he swipes at his eyes. He’s clearly lacking some much-needed sleep. I wonder if that’s affecting his mood or if he’s always like this…
Fuck, I should have brought my Kindle instead of using my phone to read for the past few days. I’m going to have to make this paperback last however long I’m here for.
“Oh,” I mumble, making him chuckle, but he doesn’t say anything in response as he swings his door open and steps out of the vehicle.
I watch as he lifts his arms over his head, stretching his body as a groan slips from his lips, before turning to glance over his shoulder at me. “Are you coming or not?” Not waiting around for an answer, he grabs the bag of goodies from the backseat and takes off for the front door.
Pausing for a moment, I try to scramble together an overview of what I’m actually dealing with right now, but I’m too overwhelmed, and admittedly distracted by the natural sway of his ass as he walks.
Fuck.
With a sigh, I slam the SUV door shut behind me in frustration before I stomp after him.
By the time I reach the door, he’s already got it unlocked and has made his way inside. I tentatively step through the gap that remains and my jaw hits the floor in shock at the entryway.
This place is stunning.
The stairway leads off to the left, a thick, plush cream carpet lining the floor, while tiled squares cover the rest of the space. There are only three doors leading off the foyer: the one to the far left is closed, the one straight ahead looks like the kitchen, and the other to the right leads to some kind of office. I spot Mr. Hot and Broody straight ahead and follow after him, stepping into a huge, open kitchen, dining, and living area.
Holy fucking shit.
How the other half live.
