Page 85 of Dollhouse

We make it to the restroom, I reach for the door, looking over my shoulder at King.

“Wait out here. I’ll be a couple minutes to clean up.” He leans his head down and placed a kiss so intense to my lips. As much as I love kissing him, it does nothing to ease the feeling in the pit of my stomach that makes me feel like the other shoe is about to drop. King has always been affectionate, but never this much.

His kiss almost feels like goodbye.

What does he know that I don’t?

“Don’t be long. I need more of your delicious mouth.” Yet again, he kisses me breathless, his tongue pushing through my parted lips and licking the inside of my mouth, kissing me until I’m lightheaded from the sensation.

Panting, I walk into the bathroom, thankful that it’s empty.

Standing in front of the vanity, I open my clutch to take out my tube of lipstick and powder compact. I open the compact and dip the cotton puff into the powder, dabbing it over my face, covering the blotchy spots from my now dried tears.

Once I’m finished, I place it back into my clutch and grab some napkins from the dispenser, wetting them before wiping them over the inside of my thighs and carefully along my sensitive core.

The beeping of my phone startles me.

I haven’t had it in a couple of weeks, so I’m alarmed when it begins beeping.

Quickly throwing the napkins away, I wash and dry my hands before I reach for my phone and unlock it.

That’s odd. A new text message with an image attached.

I click open the message, my brows pulling together in a frown as I look at the image on my screen.

It’s a picture of King who’s standing outside of the bathroom where I left him. It’s a picture taken from a distance, and he isn’t looking toward the camera. He clearly has no idea that someone was taking a photo of him. I close out of the image and read the text.

Unknown:You have ten minutes to ditch your bodyguards and get outside alone.

My blood runscold reading the message.

Who the fuck is texting me?

I have to warn the guys that whoever it is that’s after me is here. I open my contact list and scroll to Rowen’s number that he programmed into my phone in the limo on the way here. And as if the mystery fucker knew my intentions, my phone chimes with another alert and image.

This time, seeing the picture, my hand flies up to cover my mouth and instantly bile rises in the back of my throat, I swallow it down.

The picture is of Cassie.

She’s bound and gagged, tied to a chair and bleeding from the cuts and bruises over her fair skin.

Unknown:Warn them and she dies. Time is ticking little one.

What the fuck?What the actual fuck?!

I’ll admit, after the first text I thought it was one of my guys playing a twisted joke or testing me to see what’d I’d do now that I had my phone and was taken out in public. But now seeing the second text that came through and seeing Cassie’s scared face, I know it wasn’t them.

It’s the bastard who is after me.

Fuck. Now he is getting exactly what he wants.

The only way out is through the window. Clearly, I have no fucking choice.

My phone beeps in my hand with another message.

Unknown:Three minutes. Leave your phone in the trash can.

Impatient fuck.

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