Page 28 of Massacre Monday
My brain must short circuit as I stand agog at his words, my heart pounding against my ribs. Did this fucker do all this research last night? With a glance around my room, I see if anything is askew.Everythingon my side is. Between the stacks of books and my laundry, there’s no way to know what he’s searched through. From my training, I steady my breathing to show no fear, but it’s difficult when I think I’m trapped in a tiny room with an actual psychopath.
As if he knows what I’m doing, he smiles broadly and stands, slipping on his boxer briefs with a little hop. Waving his hand over my mess, he says, “By the way, I claimed something in here while you were dozing. It’ll be like a fun scavenger hunt to find out what it is. I think you’ll enjoy it.”
“What do you mean,claimed?”
His head tilts to the side, as if I should understand exactly what he means, and that makes my throat almost close up. “I came on it.”
He’s stunned me. Verbally, physically…in every way. I have no idea what to make of what he’s saying, but my belly churns with anxiety.
In a swift motion, he gathers his T-shirt laying on the ground and tosses it over my head as I lift my arms to prevent an attack. Instead of that working, it only allows it to drop into place, his masculine scent filling the air around me as the fabric saturated withhimcoats my nose.
“Smile!”
As soon as my head is through the opening, I shake it with confusion, but he grabs me in a tight embrace, places his lips against my temple, and holds up his phone to snap a selfie of us. The picture is one of me, in his NU hockey shirt, withsex hair, looking flushed and stunned, as if his sudden display of affection wascuteandwanted, while his piercing blue eyes hold the camera with a gleeful look.
My hands shove him away, but he barely moves and continues tapping something on his phone screen.
“You need to leave. You’re not even allowed to be here, in the house! I don’t care if you think youwonme.”
He mock gasps and pulls me in for a hug, pressing his lips to the top of my head. His voice vibrates his chest as he holds me. “I didn’t just win you. Iownyou. And I’ll be staking my claim whenever I choose for the entire month of September.”
Claiming…as in,coming in. Oh my god.
Volleying my shoulders, I get away from him and take a step back. He smirks, slips on his jeans, and heads to the door. “I was just leaving anyway.” One of his fingers lifts as it wags at my face. “You need to get to class, missy. Don’t want to be late. But Iwillbe seeing you very soon.”
The moment he leaves, I lock the door and place my desk chair under the doorknob. My fingers thread through my hairas I pace around, worried about what he could have soiled and what just happened.
I’m also curious about where Gwen ended up.
After last night, kneeing him in the stomach and running away, I got home late. She wasn’t in bed. Stumbling over my books for next semester (already purchased in case I can read ahead), I spot her purse still hanging on her desk chair. Unmoved…
Maybe Amelia knows something. I wonder how she made out last night. Did she make it back okay?
I only have about an hour before my first class, so I hurry and grab my phone, checking to see if Gwen left me a text. Instead, I have a billion Pixtagram notifications. The screen shakes as I open them, dread crashing over me in a torrid wave.
When I switch to my profile, the latest pictures are of me and Ryan together from last night, but posed in such a way to look as if I was awake and willing.
Ryan holding me with just the back of my hair visible, looking at me as if we’re talking. Him snuggled up beside me while I slept with the caption:She’s so beautiful when she’s dreaming #mypic
I click through the tags to his profile and my heart stops. He’s aCardell…of Cardell Enterprises. And not just one, buttheRyan Cardell, heir to the entire empire. He’s got hundreds of thousands of thirsty followers, and his feed has suddenly been filled with…
Me.
Me as a young girl learning to ride a tricycle (She was adorable, right? Hope our girls look like this#goals).
Me winning my last ballroom competition, though Mitch has slyly been cut out. (My girl dances like she loves…with her full heart. Congrats, P.I.C.!).
And the worst…him replacing any pictures I had put up of Nico and I withhis own facePhotoshopped over it.
I run over to the trash can in the corner and dry heave. This cannot be happening. What is going on? Is he this crazy? This insane?
It’s okay. It’s okay, I repeat to myself. Because I know one thing…
My brothers will kill him.
ten
Somehow,I manage a quick shower, even dig inside my pussy to scrape out any possible Ryan remains. I toss my wet hair into a bun, dress in some high-waisted jeans with a cropped blueSigmaT-shirt, then rush out the door in white sneakers. Despite cleaning up, I can’t seem to clear my nose of his scent. It lingers in my space…spiced and wild, like pine needles crushed underfoot or the inside of a leather satchel packed for a dangerous trip. It smells like trouble.
