* * *
I got changed in record time, mostly because Bryant was waiting for me in the sitting room, and what I guess, glaring at his watch every second. He wants us to start working on our ‘groundwork,’ whatever the fuck that means. Slipping on my strappy shoes, I take one last glance in the mirror. Well, this is more than over the top for groundwork. What if said groundwork is covered in mud, then this Louis Vuitton beige strapless short dress will no doubt get ruined. I wouldn’t even flinch, I hope it pains him. Although guessing from the amount of money Bryant has, I don’t think he’d care—no scratch that, I know that he wouldn’t care.
“You done?” he asks from the doorway. I look at him in the mirror, admiring what he’s wearing. Well, damn, it doesn’t matter how many times I’ve seen Bryant in a suit, every time I see him in one my mouth waters the same.
“Yup!” I cut off my own thoughts, picking up my clutch from my bed and wrapping the chain around my fist. I’m going to need to go and buy a vibrator because this lack of sex thing is not working for me.
We both get into the Ferrari once we reach the parking lot, and I take a look at the side mirror while reaching for my safety belt, watching as Jerry and three other MIB’s get into the black Range Rover behind us. Bryant puts the gear into reverse. “So,” I start, looking toward him. “What are we doing to start this groundwork?”
“Work party.”
“Figures,” I mutter, looking out the window as he floors it out from the underground parking and onto the busy street.
On our way to wherever this work function is, I created a plan. Bryant isn’t making this easy for me. In fact, he’s making it very difficult with his asshole tendencies. If he were nicer, maybe I would have come to him on my own accord instead of him basically blackmailing me into marrying him.
That’s a lie and I know it. I just maybe wouldn’t have thought of this plan that I’m thinking about right now.
1) I can’t just accept this fate. But if I do anything, will he unleash the tape to the police? He could.
2) He wouldn’t. He’s already expressed how much he wants and needs me to be his wife, therefore, I’m far more useful to him when I’m not behind bars.
Which leads me to 3) What have I always been good at when I’m not getting caught attempting to do it—which technically, makes me pretty shit at it—Run.
We pull up to the front of a huge glass building. The front of the doors have ‘Royal Enterprise Holdings’ sprawled out in grey lettering, and look, there’s even a gold crown as the company logo. How poetic. Rolling my eyes, I get out of the car and shut the door behind myself. In order for my plan to work, it will need to happen tonight, because the longer I leave it, the harder it will be for me to leave. I don’t want to give Bryant any time to sweet talk me into convincing myself that he’s not a bad person because he is. Bad for me, at least. Jerry and the three MIB’s get out of the Range Rover and walk up to us. “It’s all secure. I had some eyes look around the premise before we got here.”
Bryant looks to Jerry. “I wouldn’t bring her here if it weren’t secure, and this is my kingdom.” He pauses, narrowing his eyes onto Jerry. This could go one or two different ways. I’m really hoping it heads toward the way I need, because I couldn’t deal with the two men whom I spend most of my time with fighting at my every turn. “But I appreciate you looking out.” I let out a long, but silent exhale.
Bryant gestures to the front doors. “Shall we?”
I fight an eye roll to show my enthusiasm. This better not be a long night.
The milky soap suds drip off my body as the steam from the shower fogs the glass. I’ve been in here for ten minutes. I’m usually a long shower person so it won’t be out of the ordinary for Bryant, not that we’ve been together long enough for him to make any sort of assumptions in regards to shower time. For all he knows, I’m a quick shower taker. Or maybe, I’m one of those people who sometimes has a quick shower, or sometimes has a long shower. Regardless, I’m in here. With my passport and credit card hidden under my towel that’s sitting on the bathroom counter, so far, my plan is going well. Now, all I have to do is get out of this apartment without waking Bryant or by alerting Jerry next door. Admittedly, Jerry and the MIB’s have laid back a lot since we’ve been here, probably because of their knowledge of Bryant. Hitting the faucet on the shower, I get out, wrapping the towel around me. Drying up in record time, I stop all movements. What is the possibility of Bryant trying to fuck with me tonight?—bang.
“Isa!”
Shit. Shit.
I silently clear my throat. “Won’t be long.”
Maybe I shouldn’t have said that. My tone was a little too cheerful. Usually, I probably would have told him to fucking wait.
“I’m going for a run.”
My eyes almost pop out of their sockets, I’m that shocked at how perfect his timing is. I can’t act happy though, I need to be careful. Be Isa.
“Sure thing!” I call out, and then it’s silent.
My paranoia begins to eat at the surface of my fears, so if I’m doing this, it needs to happen now. I won’t get this prime opportunity again.
Slipping into my nightie like I had planned, I shove my passport and Visa into the side of my G-string and then fluff my nightie back over it. Running a brush through my hair, I tie it into a high messy bun before yanking the door open. Pausing in the doorway, I listen for any clues or sounds. Satisfied with the fact that Bryant has gone, I walk out with a smirk on my face. I’m about to be free, free as a bird—A hand flies to my throat and clenches tightly, shoving me up against the wall.