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“Eat what’s leftover later,” he mouths without a sound again, and I nod, thankful for the years I’ve learned to read lips from my spying adventures.
I swallow my last bite as a heaviness consumes my eyes, threatening to pull them closed. A yawn breaks through, and I groan with tingling limbs taking over. Maybe they did drug this food.
“You’re a tired Kitten,” Arrow murmurs, brushing some of my wild hairs out of my face.
No shit, Sherlock—is what I want to say. But I nod with defeat. The sooner I can “go to bed” the sooner I can break free from this contraption around my wrists.
“That’s our cue,” Jericho rumbles, pulling me to my feet without asking me to move.
I grunt, yanking the handcuff. “You can’t just drag me along like a rag doll,” I hiss, running into the back of him when he halts suddenly. “I have ears, asshole. Speak before you move.” My jaw tightens when his broad shoulders stiffen.
Turning on his heel, he faces me with pursed lips. “You’re under the impression that you have a say.” He raises a brow when anger sweeps through me. “Now come, we need to clean you up for the night before we rest.”
“Communal shower?” Arrow pipes in, bounding up the large set of stairs in front of us. My eyes drift around the large foyer, if you could even call it that, until I’m dragged again.
Wait. Shower?
“Shower? You’ll uncuff me, right?” I ask, getting dragged up the stairs. And leave me alone for just a damn second. I’m used to looking over my shoulder, but this is ridiculous.
Jericho’s chuckle is the only thing I hear when I’m pulled in front of French doors.
“Did you even read the contract?” Jericho asks, raising a brow when he opens the doors, revealing a massive bedroom that doesn’t even look like it’s been touched.
“That legal mumbo jumbo you gave me like five seconds to look over without a lawyer?” Technically, I had an hour to get acquainted with what it said. I tried. Hard. Maybe I should have asked for legal advice. “If I had a chance to get a lawyer, maybe I would have understood what you forced me to sign,” I snap back, stumbling into the room with Arrow and Shepp behind us and closing the doors.
Jericho rolls his eyes. “You had one hour, Little Chaos. But you simply chose to sign it without actually reading over everything. Your mistake. Not mine. Now, you’ll follow the rules.”
It’s at the moment I hear the click of the lock, and fear truly sets in. I don’t show it, of course. I lock it away, forgetting it exists. Not letting it affect me when I’m surrounded by three dangerous mafia men who essentially kidnapped me. No! They did kidnap me! Hiding behind a legal document, granting them custody of me from the damn county. Like I’m a fucking piece of property.
Show no fear, Little Snake.
His voice rings through my skull, and for once, I’m grateful for his intrusiveness. It's one of many lessons I learned under his cruel hand, and thankfully, I can apply many of them here.
I blow out a breath and stiffen my body, feigning annoyance, which isn’t too far off. I’d rather slap all three of them and run away than be here under their expectant glares.
“Isn’t it pretty, Kitten? We designed it just for you!” Arrow says, jumping on the enormous bed at the back of the large bedroom with an oomph.
The oversized black comforter hugs his body like a damn cloud, almost sucking him completely in. And that’s not the craziest part. The bed he dove into could hold five people easily.
Or more.
If I thought the kitchen was big, this room knocks my fucking socks off. Huge bed, dressers, a fucking couch, and big screen TV. Shit, there’s a bar with a mini fridge on the other side. This is way bigger than anything I’ve ever seen. It could be its own damn apartment. I’d be impressed if I wasn’t so pissed that I’m still attached to Jericho fucking Viotto.
But also, what did he say?
“Wait. For me?” I ask, stumbling again when the asshole pulls me toward another door and throws it open without checking to see if I’m following. Not that I have a choice in the matter. I’m still attached to him. "Words, asshole! You can't just drag me around," I huff behind him, earning nothing more than a shrug.
“Time to remove the prison suit, Little Chaos.” Jericho doesn’t hesitate to unbutton his shirt the rest of the way without a care, letting it hang open and exposing his impressive body filled with art pieces.
Men like him shouldn’t look so goddamn lickable. I should want to stab him with a screwdriver. Not lick him.
“You have to remove this then,” I say smugly, holding up our joined hands.
“For a time,” he says with a shrug. “But understand the rules, Little Chaos. Until we trust you, you’re attached to us in one way or another. Or, I could send your ass to prison and let the judge know you were a naughty girl.”
My heart pounds when he reaches into his suit jacket and removes the key, unlocking our cuffs.
Fucking finally! Freedom is on the horizon!
