Page 200 of Plaything

“What? You’ve been through a lot and are confused—”

“The printer...?” I cried. I didn’t know how long I was passed out on the floor, but my hopes that Charles would change his mind were low.

He slid an arm under my knees and another around my shoulders, lifting me into his arms, his coat draped over my shaking body. “There’s no papers, Odette.”

Another wave of exhaustion hit me as he carried me quickly through the house. “Back off!” Vincent shouted. Somehow, he held me with one hand while the other shuffled by his waist until something clicked in his hand. “I’m not fucking around. Back off,” his voice terrified me, and I was glad I was the one in his arms and not on the other end of what I assume was a handgun. I didn’t understand, and too much had happened for me to even try to think about anything else besides that I was leaving empty-handed.

“Anthony, please ensure my car returns to my house.”

“Sir... Mr. Whitlock dropped this by the front door,” Tony’s voice was quiet as if he’d seen a ghost. “My God, Dotty...”

The world and time were a blur as Vincent carefully placed me in my car’s passenger seat, buckling me up and placing a manila folder in my lap. “I’m so sorry... we couldn’t get the door open,” he apologized (mostly to himself) before he closed the door and walked around to the other side.

I squeezed the folder in my hands, too exhausted, my vision too blurred to attempt to examine the contents. All I could do was hope that whatever was in there was worth it...

Chapter Twenty-Five

Wyatt

My eyes followed Aiden as he returned inside after his fourth evening cigarette. In all the years I’d known him, he’d never been as distraught as he was now. He told us that Odette went to see her father but wouldn’t say why.

I trusted her, and that meant trusting whatever reason she felt the need to lie. She was unwaveringly good; if she thought keeping this from us was necessary, I had no choice but to let her make that decision.

Even so, I was still unnerved that she was alone with that man. He was cruel to her—not like any father I’d ever seen. He treated her like a shiny object, a trophy for him to display every few months before tossing her aside.

Aiden kept talking about his gut feeling, expressing his regret about letting her leave alone. He was unglued, completely convinced that something bad would come from her visit.

In reality, he just couldn’t handle the unknown. As worried as we were, I knew she’d walk through the doors in a couple hours with an explanation. We could check the time, our phones, and stress all we wanted—but all we could do was wait.

Lord knew I was a patient man. I’d waited my whole life for her; a few hours wouldn’t kill me. This thought made me smile as I continued to read through my students’ final essays.

My phone began ringing, and my friend’s eyes shot to me with anticipation. Seeing Vincent’s name on the caller ID, I simply shook my head at them, indicating that it wasn’t her before I answered.

“Hey,” I lazily greeted, wondering what he wanted at this hour.

“Wyatt, am I on speaker?” He asked in a hushed tone.

My brows knitted. “No? Do you want to be?” I chuckled.

“No,” he answered immediately. I could hear white noise in the background and knew he was driving. “Look, I don’t know how to say this, and I don’t want to tell you over the phone. I’ve got Odette, and I’m bringing her home—”

Confusion hit me like a truck. “What? Why do you—”

“Wyatt, I need you to hide the car keys from Dominic,” he interrupted.

My eyes wandered across the living room; the seriousness in his tone and laconic words sent shivers down my spine. I had a dozen questions, but I knew if Charles had made her cry, Dominic would be out the door the second he saw her blotchy eyes.

“Okay...” I took a nervous breath. “Put her on the phone.”

“She’s been asleep before I even pulled out of the driveway. We’ll be there in an hour or so... just please hide the keys,” Vincent repeated.

“What’s going on?” Niko questioned, barely sparing a glance up from his work.

“I don’t know,” I dismissed with a shake of my head. “Vincent, you gotta give me something, man,” I pushed.

“I don’t want her to wake up, and I don’t want her to hear what happened,” he whispered. “She’s... fine, but shit got really ugly tonight—”

“What the fuck does that mean?” I scoffed, frustrated that he wouldn’t tell me exactly why he had our girl, why he wouldn’t wake her to speak to me, and why she couldn’t hear him telling me what happened if she was there when the mentioned events happened.

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