Page 20 of Boyfriend From Hell
My gaze landed back on the taunting serving platter. I supposed I could use the cloche, or maybe even the tray itself.
Wait!I could use the plate! I stalked toward the tray—yes, the plate could absolutely work!
I snatched it up from the serving tray, tilting it so the breakfast spilled back onto the platter, some slopped onto the floor with an unsavoryplop.
I crouched, clutching the plate with one fist and slamming it down onto the floor.
Nothing.
I slam the plate again, harder this time. Still nothing.
“Oh, come on!” I yelled, cocking my hand back once more.
A low laugh cascaded around me, making the hairs on the back of my neck raise. I sat completely still, except for my eyes, glancing around the room.
“You’re too cute when you’re frustrated,” a deep voice purred through the space, like some invisible beast stalking its prey.
“Piss off!” I fumed. “What the fuck do you want from me?”
There must be cameras in the room, or maybe some kind of speaker system hidden somewhere.
“But we haven’t even begun…”
The sound of the plate clattering on the floor echoed through the room as I stood and let it fall from my hands.
“What do you want from me?” My breath grew shallow with anger.
“Oh, other way around, sweet one. What do you want from me?”The sound of the voice coiled itself around me, like some sort of snake made of ice. “Based on your desires, we both want the same thing. Was that not obvious?”
When I opened my mouth to speak, I felt myself beginning to tremble. I knew if I spoke again, a rush of frustrated tears would gush from my eyes. I couldn’t allow that. I refused to be perceived as weak right now.
No. Nobody would want this.
I spoke slowly,“I…I’ll do whatever you want, just please let me go home.”
As the words left my mouth a soft knock sounded on the bedroom door. I was rooted to the spot, no part of me wanted to open the door to that damned hallway.
I remained tense, staring at the door as another cluster of knocks sounded through the dense wood.
“Can I come in?”
Why even bother asking?
Bile rose to the back of my throat as it occurred to me that my captor could be the one standing on the other side. I glanced down at the plate, lying just inches away from me—it would have to do. I reached down and snatched it up, holding it over my head with both hands.
“Fine,” I agreed, the bones of my fingers pressing into the surface of the dish. “Come in, asshole.”
If I charge him, maybe I could catch him off guard—
I watched as the door creaked open, waiting for someone to enter, but all that came was murky, dense tendrils of fog.
I swallowed loudly and clutched the plate tighter. I was so sick of these damned games.
The shadows continued to crawl into the room, slithering like starving serpents. I’d never seen fog move in such a manner, never mind that I couldn't recall ever seeing foginsidein general, it didn’t feel right. The tendrils seemed almost sentient—thatsure as shit didn’t feel right.
I could run through it, but where would I go? Down the equally unsettling hallway?
That seemed like a terrible idea. Instead, I take a shaky step back, away from the oncoming tendrils. The wispy tips of shadows continued to sweep low along the cold stone, as if searching for something. I shake the paranoia from my head.
