Page 27

“What the fuck is that?” he asks.

I’m yanked to my feet by a fist wrapped in my hair. I reach up and clamp my hands around someone’s wrist, trying to ease the pressure on my scalp as my father reaches forward and tears the bandage away from my chest, revealing those raw, still seeping initials –

B

K

M

“Time to get up,” Brix announces, snapping me out of my memories.

He saunters to the closet and spends a few moments in there before emerging with a skirt and sweater. And no, the sweater won’t keep me warm. It’s one of those cropped styles, and the neckline is designed so it’ll hang off one shoulder.

Setting them on the dresser, he drags his eyes over my face as I sit up in the bed. The movement makes my head throb to my heartbeat, but I don’t show him an ounce of discomfort. Not like he’ll rush from the room to find me painkillers. The way he’s glaring at me…he’ll probably blast some Norwegian death metal to increase the pain.

Even though I’m wearing pajamas, I feel naked under his gaze and tug the blanket up higher.

“Get ready. You have somewhere to be in an hour,” he says, his eyes catching on where I’m hugging the duvet to my chest before raising to my face.

“Where?”

“Does it fucking matter?” he growls out.

“You used to be so sweet,” I say through clenched teeth.

“And you weren’t a fucking whore. Get up. Get showered. Get dressed. There’s some leftover food from breakfast in the fridge.”

He continues to stare at me. But if I have to be somewhere in an hour, no way am I going into public looking as hungover as I feel. The outfit will already be uncomfortable enough, unless he plans to let me wear tights underneath.

And being as he seems to hate me these days, I highly doubt he’ll grant me even that small favor.

Tired of the standoff, I throw the blankets off and push to my feet, shoving past him to head to the shower when he refuses to move.

I’m actually surprised he or one of the others hasn’t demanded to supervise me in the bathroom with the way they’ve tried to control my every movement since I arrived less than two days ago.

The door to the bedroom closes and I release a sigh of relief.

I know there’s someone outside the bedroom door, and I know anyone can come in here at any time, but at least I have a modicum of privacy for the time being.

Actually…

I look around the room, into each corner to check for cameras. Only one, and it’s pointed toward the shower. At least there isn’t one aimed at the toilet.

Assholes.

Oh, how tempted I am to strip naked and flip the camera the bird before showering. But I’m a grown woman, and I’m not convinced one of them won’t take it as a challenge and barge in here. They always did love when I was defiant.

A faint smile tugs at my lips as I recall our thousands of hours spent together. It all might be in the past and all those feelings they had for me might be dead…but at least I still have the memories.

Okay. Time to get this show on the road. Until I can figure something else out, I have to play their game, follow their rules, and that starts with making sure I’m pretty and wearing what Brix chose for the day. He didn’t set out any shoes, but I’ll just find something flattering yet comfortable. They sure as fuck bought enough to pick from.

The remaining items they ordered had apparently been put away by one of their staff while I’d met with Alexa last night because the shower is stocked with different types of shampoo, conditioner, body wash, and soap.

I pick each at random, not really caring after using drug store crap for so long. But damn, do the silky suds feel good against my skin.

Once I’m clean and fresh, I grab the fluffy green towel from the shower door and start to dry off.

Until I realize it’s a forest green towel. As in my favorite color. Whoever put this in here remembered. So…maybe they don’t hate me as much as I thought.