Total pages in book: 116
Estimated words: 106292 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 531(@200wpm)___ 425(@250wpm)___ 354(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 106292 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 531(@200wpm)___ 425(@250wpm)___ 354(@300wpm)
My heart starts to race at the idea of being locked up again, and as he stares back at me, I realize just how quickly he’d do it. Not wanting to take any more risks than I already have, I clench my jaw and spin on my heel before stalking toward his stupid bedroom, knowing damn well if I even tried to go to mine, I would be dragged out by the ankles. Every step I take is like having a fire poker stabbed through my back, knowing just how much satisfaction he gets from my misery. He gets off on power and loves the thrill of forcing someone into submission.
But he made a mistake.
Inviting me into his room is one thing, but having me right beside him while he’s at his most vulnerable . . . Well, that’s nothing more than a gift. I hope the bastard likes to sleep with one eye open, because I fully intend to take him out. The question is, will I get to his heart before he can get to mine?
Stepping into his bedroom, the exhaustion hits me like a freight train, and without even sparing a moment to snoop through all of his shit, I collapse onto his bed. His pillow smells just like him, and I get a sick sense of satisfaction knowing just how filthy I am after being in those cells. If he’s going to demand that I sleep in here with him, I’ll be sure to make it as uncomfortable as humanly possible. Zade DeVil will regret the moment he decided to invite me into his bed.
Before even getting a chance to pull the blankets up over my body, I fall into a deep, fretful sleep, and by the time I’m waking, the afternoon sun is streaming through the floor-to-ceiling windows. I clamber out of bed and smirk at the dirty footprints smeared across Zade’s blankets, knowing damn well when I come to bed next time, I’ll be taking the clean side.
Needing to feel human again, I saunter out into the hallway and make my way into what used to be my bedroom to find a fresh change of clothes and clean underwear, only my room has been stripped bare. No bed. No rug on the floor. No fucking clean clothes.
“Assholes,” I grunt, slamming the walk-in closet door before storming back to Zade’s room, slamming that door just as hard. I move into his closet, searching through his drawers for something to wear, and considering he’s twice my size, there’s not a lot of options.
Finding a pair of sweatpants and a white shirt, I figure I can make it work before moving into his private bathroom. Pulling off my dirty clothes, I throw them across the bathroom before thinking better of it and dumping them in the bottom of the shower. If these are the only clothes I’ve got that fit me, I’m not about to let them out of my sight. Even if they’re filthy and all but torn to shreds.
My feet ache from the hours of pacing through my cell and running through the cold tunnels, and I almost consider drawing a bath, but I simply don’t have the patience. Getting in the shower, I turn on the taps and almost gag at the grime coming off the bottom of my feet. I’ve never felt so dirty. It’s disgusting.
I slather myself in soap, scrubbing every inch of my body before rinsing it off and starting over. I shampoo and condition my hair and even trudge across Zade’s bathroom soaking wet to search for a razor to shave my legs and everywhere else.
After feeling somewhat human again, I scrub my old clothes the best I can before wringing them out. Stepping out of the shower, I hook my soaking clothes over the side of the bathtub to dry, being sure to leave a growing puddle of water below them, and hoping like fuck Zade doesn’t see it and slips through here like an ice skater on crack.
Grabbing a towel, I quickly dry off before stepping into his oversized sweatpants and rolling them at my hips to keep them up. The shirt is next, and as it falls to my knees, I do what I can to roll up the sleeves and tie it off at my waist, feeling like some kind of Honey, I Shrunk the Kids failed experiment.
Just to be a petty asshole, I trudge out into the penthouse, bypassing Dalton and Sawyer in the living room, who each give me curious stares, before heading right through to Zade’s home office and searching for what I need.
After finding everything, plus my charcoal and drawing pad, I head back to Zade’s bedroom and get busy, starting with his closet. If I only get the clothes I walked in here with, then so does he.