Total pages in book: 89
Estimated words: 82949 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 415(@200wpm)___ 332(@250wpm)___ 276(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 82949 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 415(@200wpm)___ 332(@250wpm)___ 276(@300wpm)
I turned back around to the show. I watched as one girl started dancing to the music as the other made her way into the audience. It was a small crowd. Maybe around fifteen people. There was a group of men in one corner dressed in suits, in the other a pair of women who looked like they were ready to head out for a girls’ night. The crowd was an interesting bunch. That surprised me more than the show. “What would you like me to say?”
I felt his arm come around my waist and I looked down to the ring on his thumb. He grazed his teeth over my shoulder. “Right answer.”
Shiloh
There are three stages you go through when you’ve been taken against your will. The first stage is fear. It’s when you’ve finally realized that shit…okay…that stirring feeling in your gut that you’ve been feeling all along is actually valid.
The second is adrenaline. It’s this false sense of hope that washes over you so fast your legs leave your brain behind and try to get you out of the situation. This is usually where people get whacked off.
The final is logic. It’s balancing on the line of I’m going to die anyway, and let’s have one last try—but smarter.
That’s where I am. I stare up at the ceiling, my hair splayed out beneath me and my thoughts running wild. I don’t know how long I have been here anymore, or how many days have passed, but I remember what happened last night—at least I’m sure I do. Did Malyk have a dead body? Was it even alive? One side of my brain is fighting with the other. There’s no way that was a real human. It was most likely a mannequin.
Pushing off the bed, I drag the sheet up with me, wrapping it around my body. I stop in front of an old Victorian-style mirror, the kind that curves around the edges into an oval. I still hate Dion. My hand touches my cheek, feeling the emptiness he left behind before dropping it back to my side. It would appear that even though I may very much hate him, my body still very much remembers him.
I make my way to where the window is covered by blinds and pull the string at the side, expecting to see sunlight. Darkness meets me on the other side as the trees wail side by side with loud winds. There must be a damn storm outside, which only means that no matter how much I want to get off this island, I won’t tonight.
Sighing, I turn to face the door. I need to think of a plan. A real one. Broken trust is the greatest heartbreak of all. Peeking beneath my sheet, I look down at the bikini I am wearing, the same from the night before. Moving through the bedroom, I pull open the top drawer of the dresser and take out a bright green bra and matching underwear. Both lace. Not my ideal kind or something I would choose, but with three men in the house, I’m hoping it does what I need it to do.
Rushing through the shower, I scrub all of the dirt from my skin before drying off. Slipping into the underwear, I tiptoe out of the bathroom, listening for any other voices. Music thuds against the walls of the house, voices drift through the cracks of my door.
What the fuck.
I squeeze the door handle tightly, pulling it open just enough to hear.
“Oh my fucking God!” someone squeals in excitement, wrapped in an old song from 50 Cent.
I slam the door closed quickly, backing up until the backs of my legs hit the end of the bed. What the actual hell is going on down there, and why the fuck does it sound like there are more people here than usual?
Change of plans—I need clothes, apparently. I scurry into the walk-in closet, turning the light on and reaching for the first clothing item I see. I wriggle into a tight crop top and a pair of jeans before tying the laces of the Converse.
Running my hand through my hair, I look over myself in the mirror quickly, almost like it’s one last time. My hair curls over my shoulders in soft, natural waves, my cheeks a little red from the hot shower. I don’t need makeup although I like wearing it, but tonight I won’t. Unfortunately for me, whoever it was who chose to stock up on everything in this room didn’t think much about my makeup.
But they did my damn underwear.
I brush my hair one last time, checking my teeth before scurrying out of the bedroom door. The deeper I go down the hallway, the louder the voices become.
Holding my breath, I round the corner to where I know the kitchen meets, banging into someone.