Page 6 of The Retreat

Fuck.

Did I marry him?

Glancing at my left hand, I’m happy to see there’s no ring but…my stomach rolls when I stand up, and I have to brace myself on the back of the tan couch while my head spins. Fuck. I need to puke and take a hot shower. Then I’ll feel better.

“Owen?” My voice sounds like I’ve been eating glass. I find a glass and some water in the kitchen along with some pain pills. My phone buzzes in my pocket.

Cassie.

I ignore the call for now. I have to find out just how fucked my life is first.

From the entry way of the room, I can see all the doors are open, so I go in search of my maybe husband. Jesus cunt Christ. Did I really marry a Godfrey? And the straight one for that matter?

The first bedroom smells like Owen, but the bed is unslept in. What the hell? He was drinking with me last night. There’s no way he didn’t pass out.

I check the attached bathroom to make sure he’s not on the floor, then the rest of the penthouse, but there’s nothing. He’s gone.

Pulling my phone from my pocket, I pull up his number, but it goes to voicemail.

“Fuck.” I run my hand through my long hair and hold it at the back of my neck. “Owen, I need you to call me back when you get this.”

Where the hell did he go?

I search the penthouse again, looking for a clue or a note and stop when I find a polaroid on the coffee table of me kissing Owen with a very tall Dolly Parton behind us.

My stomach rolls again, and I race for the bathroom just in time to puke in the toilet. Gasping for breath, I hang my head.

I’ve really fucked myself this time. Dad is going to be furious, which he’ll take out on Cassie. All his threats to disinherit me will become a reality, so I won’t be able to protect her. I’ll get kicked out of school since I won’t be able to pay for tuition, lose my spot on the fencing team, and be left to the mercy of the Godfreys.

I give myself a few minutes to panic before forcing myself to calm. Plan. I need a plan. Where would Owen go? Who would he call when in distress?

Oliver.

Finding my phone, I pull up Isaac’s number. There’s no way in hell Oliver will answer my call. Especially if Owen has talked to him already. Has Oliver told him to lock down everything? Is that why his phone is off? Is he holed up somewhere, hiding until they can come up with a plan to fix this?

I growl in frustration and run my hand through my hair.

Isaac. I need to talk to Isaac.

Despite my hands shaking, I hit the call button next to his name and lift it to my ear.

My breath is trapped in my lungs as I wait…and get sent to voicemail. Son of a bitch.

Fine. Fuck it. If they’re all going to ignore me, fuck them.

Straightening my shoulders, I look around for any of my stuff that I might have dropped and leave the hotel suite. If I left anything, I’ll just replace it. I don’t care.

Fucking Godfreys and their high and mighty attitude. This isn’t a them problem, it’s an us problem. If they really think they can make decisions that affect my life, they’ve got another thing coming. I will make their lives a living hell if they fuck with me or my sister.

THREE

Owen

Twenty-nine hours of flight time, and I haven’t slept at all, not even on my family’s Gulfstream with my own cabin. I spent the entire trip having a panic attack while listening to emo music. I’m not proud of it, but I am here, and my brother will know what to do.

I barely glance around at the resort when I get out of the Rolls Royce. It seems nice enough, but I’m not here for leisure. I don’t have time to enjoy myself in the sun. Or even stop to have a drink. I can’t remember the last time I ate, so alcohol is off the table. I peel off my hoodie as I follow the map the concierge gave me.

I flip it around, realizing I am looking at it backward. Fuck.

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