Make You Beg

She turns around to face me, wrapping her arms around herself. All of a sudden, she looks uncomfortable. Like I have never seen her naked or vulnerable.

I walk over to her, my intentions very clear and obvious. I’m not going to allow her any personal space while she’s here. My mother wanted to put her in the east wing—said she needed the space in order to be comfortable. I wasn’t having that. I wanted our little doll as close as possible. I wanted to be able to hear her cry at night when she realizes just how fucked she truly is. “I’m just across the hall,” I tell her, reaching out and cupping her face. Thin streaks of black run down her cheeks from when she was crying earlier, and it made her makeup run. I like it—my dirty doll.

My fingers run down over her chin and to her neck. I slide my thumb over the black choker and smile, remembering last night. How well our doll performed.

She sucks in a breath.

I lean into her more, brushing my lips against her ear and whisper, “I’ll leave my door unlocked in case you need anything.” Then I pull away and exit her room.

Falling down onto my bed, I type out a message to the guys.

The doll is officially in her glass case.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

HENLEY

I’M IN A prison.

A very extravagant, expensive prison. Without even knowing it, I have somehow managed to get myself arrested. Imaginary chains and bars will keep me locked away until I suffocate in my own nightmares.

I lie in this king-size bed with white sheets and the thickest comforter I’ve ever slept under. Everything smells like lavender. It’s magical. Any other time, I’d be passed out, dreaming of puppies and kittens. But right now, I’m staring up at the ceiling. Tears silently fall down the side of my face.

I haven’t slept in two nights, knowing that Law is across the hall from me. But thankfully, I never saw him again after he left my room Saturday night. My clothes were delivered yesterday along with other belongings. I overheard my father telling Lisa that the fire was contained to the kitchen while eating the breakfast I declined to attend. He said he had a crew on it immediately to get it fixed. She sounded disappointed that he wanted to get back to our house. I have a feeling it’s more me than him. Hell, for all I know, he’s been living here with them for months.

But the fact that Law has been MIA doesn’t ease my concern. I half expect for him to be in my room twenty-four seven, demanding my attention. But he’s left me alone.

I get out of bed and walk through the tall archway and through a door. It has a long vanity on the left with double doors to the right that lead to a walk-in closet. I slide my fingers along the vanity, staring at myself in the large mirror. I look like shit. Pretty much how I used to look when I partied twenty-four seven.

Coming to the end of the marble countertop, I turn to the right and open another door and step inside the bathroom. It’s larger than most apartments. Black and white marble flooring and dark gray walls. It has an oversized whirlpool tub up against the wall in the left-hand corner sitting on a platform. A large window sits above it with stained glass. To the right is a massive walk-in shower with double glass doors. I count three showerheads on the ceiling and six smaller ones on the wall pointing toward the body. I just want to stand in there for an hour and clean my skin. Opening the door to the left after the bath reveals a toilet with a bidet. I close the door back up and open the door to the right of it. It’s like the vanity that I found through the first door, except this one has stuff all over it. Men’s cologne, hair gel, toothbrush, and toothpaste. A towel is wadded up on the counter. It’s Law’s bathroom, and it looks like he left in a hurry.

Looking ahead of me, I gently put my hand on the doorknob and turn it slowly. Poking my head in, I look around the dark room to see it’s empty.

He’s got a black king-size bed. It looks like the one in my room, except where mine is white and smells of lavender, his is dark and smells of clean linen. The bed is made and only has one pillow on it. He has a long dresser that matches. The dark gray walls are bare, and so is the floor. No rugs, no blankets. Nothing. He, too, has French doors that lead out to a balcony and thick black curtains that hang from the ceiling and touch the floor, open just enough to see outside.