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Twenty Five

The next morning, the regret came when I woke up to a splitting headache. My arms and jaw hurt, but all the pain was in my head. I slid my legs to the ground and rubbed my forehead, my eyes, yet to be opened. I reached for my bedside table to grab my phone but ended up touching bottled water that I knocked aside by mistake and ended up falling to the ground.

Bending down, I opened my eyes to grab the water when I froze. I didn't raise my head at first. I kept staring at the floor that didn't belong in my flat, and then slowly, my head kept rising and rising until I was staring at a room that couldn't have been mine. The first thing I noticed was the walls that were deep, dark grey, and contrasted against the light floors. The huge bed I was on had an oversized headboard of cushion that stretched across the entire back wall. Seductive dark hues illuminated the room and a wall sculpture of various designs, and a large flat screen tv. The pieces of furniture were dark burgundy.

I looked down at what I was wearing—a silk nightgown that felt so soft against my skin, and when I checked, I wasn't wearing any underwear, and my clothes were nowhere to be found. I saw an Advil left on the bedside table that I didn't hesitate to pop into my mouth and wash down with water. My hair was a wild mess that not even running my fingers through it could fix it.

I padded over to the marble-covered bathroom, which was almost as big as the bedroom. It was all white and gold here, with the biggest bathtub sat in a corner on a platform and a glass shower cubicle. There were large windows that overlooked the city. I went straight to the sink, washed my face first, and tried to fix my hair with the brush that I found in one of the cabinets. I also found a new brush, which I used to brush my teeth. After I was done, I grabbed a towel from a hands-shaped stool and dried my face with it before I exited.

Walking out of the bathroom, I darted my gaze around, not knowing where I was, but something told me Rogue brought me here. I remembered that he had saved me last night, which I didn't want to think about. It was humiliating for me.

I passed him in an office, seeing him standing with his feet planted wide, and his arms crossed, facing the window.

"You should have come to me first about that," he said briskly into the phone in his ear. "Don't make decisions without me. You know how this goes."

He sounded annoyed, and I wanted to eavesdrop on the conversation but decided against it. Not because I wasn't curious about the conversation, but because it didn't feel right, and I wouldn't like it if he does the same thing to me.

I kept walking and still wasn't exactly sure where I was going, but I managed to find the kitchen. The penthouse was quiet and still, so beautiful and simple. Different from the other house he had kept me hostage at. This place felt like what Rogue's home would be. I made coffee and drank it all, and he still had not come to find me. Was he letting me be on my own for a little while, or was he still on the phone?

Switching on the TV, I went through so many channels without knowing what to watch, so I ended up turning it off. I went back to the kitchen to have another refill of coffee, and maybe go back to the bedroom and find my clothes, then get the hell out of here. God, I had no idea how I was still so calm about this.

Turning around, I cursed when I found Rogue standing in front of me with a lopsided grin. He closed the few steps between us with his long stride and picked me up. As he was turning around, I hit him.

"I can walk, put me down!" I hit him again but to no avail. I was awake and sober now. I didn't need him to continue picking me up like I was a little girl. It was offending and a little embarrassing. Rogue has had his ways for too long now.

"So violent. I knew we were a good match."

Beyond frustrated, I decided to give up hitting him and just let him take me wherever he wanted. When I remained quiet, he slapped my ass, and I squealed.