Page 31 of Beautiful Secrets

I can call for help.

I race out of the bedroom door. The second my feet slap onto the black marble tiles in the hallway, I know Cole heard me.

The bathroom door crashes open. I bite back a yell.

That white square on the wall near the kitchen is the only thing I see. My palms slam into the wallpaper—I am going too fast to slow down—and I rip the receiver off its cradle.

Stab the button.

Again.

Again.

“Reception,” comes a friendly young woman’s voice from the speaker. “How may I—”

As I open my mouth, a massive hand slaps over the cradle and ends the call. I scream, duck under Cole’s muscular arm, and scramble past before he can grab me. There is a tearing sound behind me—something crashing to the floor.

Did he just rip the intercom out of the fucking wall?

My heart wants to explode. Maybe it already has—I can taste copper in my mouth.

Where? Where can I run?

The bathroom. It has a lock. It won’t stop him for long, but maybe—just maybe—the receptionist would think something was wrong. She would send help—realize the intercom was broken.

Please, God, that is all I need.

Just one fucking break.

My feet slap over the tiles. I hear shoes behind me—heavy, fast.

I grab the bathroom door, swing around, push it closed.

Fingers appear on the edges, and Cole lets out a grunt as he shoves the door inward again.

I throw my body against it. Yell wordlessly.

The door crashes closed, Cole pulling out his fingers just in time.

I fumble with the lock. It is one of those where you have to twist the knob. My fingers seem to have forgotten how these things work.

“Mika!” Cole roars.

The lock slides into place.

I keep my shoulder against the wood, not trusting the door will stay closed.

When Cole throws his body against it, I feel that impact through every muscle.

I am so scared I can barely think straight.

I expect another impact—Cole trying to bash through the wood. I have no doubt he’d be able to break it down.

Clenching shaking hands against my stomach, I take a hesitant step back from the door. Watching it like a viper. Waiting for it to break into splinters and for Cole to come through it.

But he doesn’t.

It becomes eerily quiet out there.