Margot

I can’t believe he locked me in this room.

I can’t believe he locked me in his room.

He’s insane if he thinks I’d actually sleep with him after he kidnapped me.

Is he though? You seem awfully aware of how sexy he is.

Although, when I brought it up, he didn’t seem remotely interested. Why would he? He’s so far out of my league, it’s not even funny. He’s NHL level. And I’m… a high school team. Not even a good one. Like, a Division III team.

But that’s just fine. I wouldn’t give in to him even if he wanted me. No matter how sexy he is.

Sure.

brRINGG!

My phone buzzes, interrupting my spiral.

Shit.

I grab it as fast as I can, not even checking the caller ID, just praying the guard outside my door didn’t hear .

“Hey, Margot, it’s Ronald. You didn’t show up to our meeting. We need to talk about this, but not over the phone.”

My boss.

Before I can even decide if I should ask for help or to just hang up and call 911, the door slams open.

I freeze.

A tall man runs in, eyes scanning the room. The second he spots my phone, he snatches it from my hand and ends the call. He’s gone before I can even process what happened.

Well, there goes my escape plan.

I take a moment to look around.

There’s an obnoxiously large bed, easily big enough for six of me. No one needs this much bed.

The frame, along with all the furniture, is dark wood. The bedding is navy, and the headboard has way too many pillows for a single man.

Either he had an interior decorator, or there’s a woman in his life.

Oh my God.

What if I’m locked in his wife’s bedroom?

I will murder him if I’m stuck here while his poor, unsuspecting wife wonders where he is.

I try to think if he was wearing a wedding band, but my mind comes up blank. Probably because I was a little distracted by the whole double murder.

And by his jawline.

I shake that thought away and focus.

The walls are a soft cream, trimmed with crown molding. Two beautiful sconces hang above the nightstands, casting a warm glow. At the foot of the bed sits a bench seat, and beneath it all is the softest rug I’ve ever felt .

I take a step towards the beautiful armoire facing the bed and open it.

Empty.

I move on to the three doors.

The first door: Closet.

More like small boutique.

It’s insanely organized, everything color-coded, meticulously folded, and arranged by category. But no women’s clothing.

Okay, so no wife.

The sense of relief I feel has nothing to do with him being single and everything to do with the fact that I’m not locked in another woman’s room.

Keep lying to yourself.

The second door: Balcony.

I step outside.

He wasn’t lying. A fall from this high would leave me seriously injured. Or dead. The breathtaking view shows the acres of land behind his house. The greenery stretches for miles.

Benny’s going to love playing out there.

The thought soothes me.

The third door: Bathroom.

If I thought the closet was excessive, this?

This is insanity.

The double vanity is immaculate. Two sinks, but only one has products around it. A massive tub sits against the wall. It’s big enough to comfortably fit Benny. The shower stall has glass so clear, I can see the plethora of showerheads mounted on the ceiling and walls.

Who needs that many showerheads? How does someone even use them all at the same time?

Unless… he’s hosting orgies .

I cringe. I know some people are into that, and no judgement, but I am not one of those people. I pray I’m not catching anything from standing in here.

I quickly walk out.

By the time I make my way back to the bedroom, exhaustion hits me.

On top of not getting my coffee, I also missed my nap.

Oh, and being kidnapped is rather taxing.

After a little debate as to whether I should trust the possible orgy bed, my exhaustion overwhelms me.

I lay on top of the pristine covers, not wanting to contaminate the sheets with my dirty alley clothes.

Even though I hate Matty, I have to admit…

He has great taste.