King (Alliance #2)

I’m a bad man. Who does bad things.

That’s what he said.Bad. Things.

I take a few steps back, the blood rushing through my ears is too loud. Like he’ll be able to hear it.

He couldn’t. Could he?

Have I really been so blinded by what I wanted to see?

Panic, true panic, starts to build in my chest.

Why am I having such a hard time believing this?

He told me he was bad!

Shame fills me.

Shame at being so goddamn stupid.

“No, I’ll be there for the tradeoff.” His voice is louder now, closer.

Slamming my lips shut, holding my breath, I listen. And my heart stops when I hear his shoes on the stairs.

As quietly as I possibly can, I spin around and sprint to the bedroom. His next words are unintelligible underneath my alarm, but I make it inside the room just before his voice echoes down the hall.

Skidding to a stop, I push the door so it’s mostly closed then stand, stuck in indecision. Fake being asleep or hide in the bathroom?

Since I’m basically hyperventilating, I run to the bathroom, doing the same thing with the main door before throwing myself into the little toilet stall at the far end of the room.

I depress the handle as I close the door so the click is nearly inaudible, just as I hear King call out my name in the bedroom.

I reach back and depress the handle, flushing the toilet, and use the sound to mask the soft click of me turning the tiny lock on the door handle.

“Savannah?” King’s voice is in the bathroom now, and I once again realize that I acted in haste. Because flushing the toilet would usually suggest that I was done and that I would be coming out. But my cheeks are hot, my heart is still flipping around like it’s dying, and there’s no way I can look him in the eye without vomiting all over the floor.

Shipment of girls.

“I’m busy!” My voice sounds strained, so that, matched with the early flush, he probably thinks I’m in here taking a poop.

Whatever. That’s fine. Everyone poops. Murderers and kidnap victims alike.

“You alright?” I see a shadow move under the door and I know he’s standing just on the other side.

I gingerly step back and sit down on the toilet seat, just in case he’ll be able to tell if I was standing from how my voice sounded.

“Fine.”Act how you normally would, Savannah. I aim for an annoyed tone. “Do you mind? A little privacy, please.”

It sounds like he’s tapping his foot before he sighs. “I’m heading out to do some work. I don’t know how late I’ll be, so let Cici make you dinner if I’m not back by…” he pauses to think, “eight.”

“Oh, okay.” I bite my lip, then decide to go for it. “Any chance I can have my phone back?”

“No.”

I knew it was a long shot but I’m still angry with his answer. “I need to post on my socials. My business is very customer facing.” I have to stop myself from patting my own back at that last minute idea.

“Nice try, Honey. I saw you posted last week letting everyone know you’d be absent while you work on your next series.”

Damn me and my desire to communicate.