Page 116 of The Deceptions
My fingers graze over the bruise, looking like I got kicked in the side by a damn boot. Repeatedly. It expands over my ribs, looking gnarly and aching like a motherfucker with every move I make.
"Jesus," I hiss to myself, trying to remain quiet as I poke at the bruise and hold back my desperate yelp. Without a second thought, I start the shower to get it heated until the steam fills the room and continue to look at myself in the mirror.
It's odd to see the woman I've become. As a kid, I swore I was in Mafia hell. My dad promised to marry me off to the best match for our family. A family that could get us from beneath Franco's cruel thumb. Since Dad got exiled from thedamn Viotto Crime Family for his crimes, he was forced to work with Franco and help him manage Greenwood in order to get back into his brother's—the other Viotto Crime members—-good graces. I've never truly known why they came together so well. Or why Franco let us live on his land in a small house fifteen feet from his mansion. Probably to keep an eye on my father. I guess that's how I got to know the guys so well. All we had to do was sneak through the woods to see each other whenever we wanted, even when my dad put bars on my window and locked me in our rickety old basement as punishment.
Then, I was free from it all. My dad disappeared into a black hole and apparently hasn't emerged yet. I'm sure he'll resurface like a damn cockroach in the middle of the night. Or maybe he died already. That would be the best Christmas present on the planet. Bye, Dad. Ya dick.
Reaching in, I check the temp of the water. Perfect. It's hellish hot and will boil my skin off. Just what I need. With that confirmation, I slide my boxers and pants off and toss them aside, being careful not to upset my bruises.
I stagger, trying not to jostle my injuries as I go to the side of the tub and pull back the curtain. Just as I'm about to lift my leg and step into the hell water I can't wait to enjoy, the bathroom door bursts open.
I'd love to say I was graceful and hopped into the shower, covering my bits before the intruder got a good look at my nonexistent package. But that would be a lie. Also, I'm not that graceful. Not by a long shot. With a peacock yell, I windmill my arms and fall backwards into the blaze of hot water, taking down the curtain, and probably my dignity. The back of my head slams into the sidewall of the shower. White spots dot my vision, and I swear the room spins.
I groan.
They gasp, stumbling back and thudding the bathroom door closed with them on the wrong side. Probably staring at me completely naked and discovering that I am not the Oliver they think I am. I don't even have the balls to look at them as I squeeze my eyes shut and wait for the inevitable.
There goes the damn case. Spoiled by me trying to get relief in the shower and one of my roommates not understanding privacy. Like, who the hell puts a broken lock on a door? I can’t even use the restroom in peace!
Because there's no way with how I landed that one of my roommates isn’t getting the best show of his life.
Fuck.
One Mississippi...
Two Mississippi...
I mentally count the number of seconds ticking by with no one saying a word. The silence suffocates me. Well, more than the fucking water pelting my face. Can I pretend I just died? It would be of embarrassment. Or possibly drowning. I'm never living this down. Ever. Especially if Jordy finds out. Note to self: Never let him get wind of this. Fucking ever. He'll toss it in my face every chance he gets. And that's the last thing I need.
I'll force whoever is standing against the door to sign an NDA. You never saw a thing. Not my tits. Lady bits. Or my shaved legs. Speaking of, I don't think Jordy packed a razor for me.
Ugh.
Just let me die in the hot shower. This is my coffin now.
Three Mississippi...
Four Mississippi...
Fine. I guess it has to be me. Not to mention, I'm slowly drowning in the blazing hot water peeling my skin off. Normally, it feels refreshing. But right now, when I'm down, it feels miserable and ominous.
Peeling my eyes open, everything is blurry. Fuck. Have I lost my vision from the hit? I shake my head as the white ceiling swirls and then comes into focus. Holy fuck. False alarm. I'm all right, for the most part.
"Oli!"
Oh, good. It's Simon. In the same sentiment... Fuck, it's Simon. Now, he knows all my secrets. Every freckle, tit, and lady bit secrets. I'm so boned. And not in the good way, either.
I groan in response, running my hand down my face. At least my arms still work. My fingers wiggle. My toes wiggle. Yeah, I think I'm okay. My dignity, however? It's taken a minor hit. Okay, a major hit. Like in the back of my head, too. Ugh. It throbs with my heartbeat, threatening to dismantle my skull.
Maybe death is better than this.
"Are you okay?" he asks hysterically, inching closer to me.
Way too close. Fuck. He's hovering above me, staring down at my face. As he scans my body, his eyes grow wider and wider. His mouth falls open, and he takes a small step back.
"Can you shut off the water?" I groan, pointing to the temperature controller with a shaky finger.
"Right. Fuck. Yes," he squeaks, shutting off my hellfire water.
