Page 7 of The Good Bad Girl


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“Yessir.”

“And don’t let anyone else in her room.”

“No, sir.”

“Not even me.”

CHAPTER6

ANGEL

Ishe good or is he bad is the question that keeps running through my mind as I watch him leave. I mean, he hasn’t really mistreated me in any way besides the whole kidnapping thing. I can’t bring myself to hate the man. In fact, I’m finding I feel the complete opposite.

A tingle went through my body when he said he was going to keep me for ‘as long as he liked.’ I know it’s messed up, but no one has ever wanted me. I can’t help but love the fact that he doesn’t want to let me go. I know I’m not being rational. I haven’t been since I thought I could go toe to toe with Santino.

Suddenly, feeling exhausted, I crawl into the giant bed, pulling the fluffy blanket over me. Sleep pulls me under quickly. I’m jolted awake when I hear a heated exchange. My eyes go to the window, the curtains still open. The sun appears to be setting, but that has to be wrong. I rub my eyes. It has to be rising. If not, then I slept for an eternity.

I slip from the bed, heading toward the door to see what the commotion is.

“You said no one was to go into the room, not even you.”

“Move,” a familiar voice rumbles, only this time, it makes me stand up straighter. A cold warning is laced through that one word.

Still, for some reason, having no fear of the man on the other side of the door, I open it. They both turn my way.

“What are you two love birds bickering about? A girl’s trying to get her beauty sleep.” Lars, I think I heard him called, steps back, where Bjornsson steps forward.

His hand comes out. His fingers graze my shoulder, making my breath hitch. He pulls my robe back up into place. I hadn’t realized it had fallen.

“You haven’t left your room or answered any knocks for food.” Bjornsson’s finger lingers on my collar bone.

“What time is it?” I’ve been trying to get my bearings since I woke up a few minutes ago.

“Seven.” Lars' answer reminds us he’s here. Bjornsson jerks his head around to give Lars a look that has him turning to leave.

“Seven at like night?” Bjornsson drops his hand from me. That might be why my bladder feels like it’s going to explode.

“Yes.” He clears his throat.

“Damn, can you, ah, give me a second?” I don’t wait for him to respond. I leave the door open, rushing to the bathroom.

“Are you okay?” Bjornsson comes to a full stop when he steps into the bathroom. My panties are already around my ankles. He stands there for a second, not taking his eyes off me.

“Can you not watch? I can’t pee if you watch.” I swear Bjornsson's cheeks start to turn pink before he leaves the bathroom. He makes sure to close the door.

I can’t help but giggle. Who knew it would be so easy to make the big, bad, mysterious man blush? My laughter dies quickly when I go to wash my hands and get a good look at myself in the mirror.

My hair is a wild mess. I hadn’t brushed it after I showered and went to bed with it wet. Have I really slept a whole day away? I haven’t slept more than four or five hours in forever. Nor have I ever had such a peaceful sleep.

When you grow up the way that I did, you basically sleep with one eye open because the environment around you is unpredictable. You never feel safe enough to go into a deep sleep, fearing that something bad might happen. None of this makes sense. Why is it that I feel safe here with him?

I quickly fix my hair the best I can and wash my hands before I head out of the bathroom. Bjornsson is pacing back and forth in front of the bed. He stops when he sees me.

“Do I need to call a doctor?”

“Why?”

“You slept for almost twenty hours.” He comes over to me, putting the back of his hand to my forehead.

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