Page 15 of Saved By My Buyers

I don’t know how to handle this. I guess I’m going to need to see where it goes, even though she’s my stepsister now. My hair takes a while to detangle, condition, and then shampoo, so I continue to obsess and worry.

I don’t have anything else to do, right?

I’ve been trying to learn how to better take care of my curls by looking up videos, but it’s been a long process since Mom is constantly straightening her hair and I’ve never been taught.

Finally done after washing my body clean, my stomach gurgles with hunger as I dry myself off. Ugh, how much do I want to try to find the kitchen right now?

I didn’t eat very much tonight because my dress felt as if it was suffocating me at times. I also was too busy having a good time to want to eat the fancy dinner they served.

Drying off, I wrap my body in my towel as I scrunch my hair to get the excess water out of it with a smaller, soft towel. I’ve learned to sleep on a silk pillowcase to attempt to keep my curls from freaking out, but it doesn’t always work.

Wrinkling my nose, I pull out a pair of sleep shorts and T-shirt from my dresser. It may be the only thing not pink in this room as well, though the clothes have not gone unscathed by the pastel gremlin.

Grimacing, I get dressed, refusing to wear panties tonight. The shorts hit my legs mid-thigh, so I’m not showing anything off that I wouldn’t normally.

My stomach growls again, cramping angrily, making me groan as I toss my towels into the hamper.

“Fine, fine,” I mutter. I’ll try to find the damn kitchen, but if I fail, I’m done.

Looking around the blinds, I see the backyard is dark, and the last of the party guests are leaving. It should be safe to wander now. It’s after midnight already. Honestly, that’s hard for me to believe, but it’s been a busy night.

Dropping the blinds back into place, I walk across the room with bare feet to unlock the door and peek out.

My mom will be annoyed that I’m not wearing socks, because she thinks that walking barefoot is bad for you and uncouth, but fuck it. My calves ache from wearing heels for so long.

Touching my neck, I dash to the bathroom to put my necklace back on, terrified I’ll lose it. If I’m wearing it, I’ll be able to keep it safe, right?

Slipping out the door, I realize I don’t even know where Bee’s room is. I’m going to need to ask her to draw me a map later. I don’t care how silly it is, I need to know the basics of this house.

Blowing out a breath quietly, I try to remember how to get to the main staircase. Bee walked me to my room before walking around the corner, so I at least think she’s nearby.

Thankfully, I find the main staircase, and hope that if I take a right at the bottom of it and walk toward the back of the house that I’ll be able to find it.

“I found it,” I whisper as I step into the state of the art kitchen. Gareth employs a chef to take care of major meals and snacks, and his name is Holland. The man makes really good food. I can only hope there’s a quick snack I can grab that’ll settle my hungry tummy.

My eyes have adjusted to the darkness easily, which helps me not to walk into anything as I move toward the fridge. Opening allows me to find some pasta salad in perfectly portioned sizes, and I check to make sure there’s not a note on it.

When Holland introduced himself to me, he explained that I was welcome to anything in the kitchen, as long as it wasn’t earmarked for a particular meal.

Fist pumping when I see the note above it says Grab and Go, I snag a container happily. A light turns on unexpectedly, making me gasp as I whirl around to see who is there.

“Why are you in the dark? I thought one of the guests took a wrong turn,” Gareth says, leaning against the wall as he gazes at me in amusement.

I haven’t spent much time around my new stepfather because he’s at work a lot. Smiling uncertainly, I shrug as if to say, “surprise, not an intruder.” Closing the fridge door, I move to hunt down a fork.

“I was so busy dancing, I burned off any food I ate earlier,” I explain, slowly opening drawer after drawer.

“Are you looking for a utensil?” he asks, moving around me to open the drawer to my right. Gareth is wearing a long-sleeved shirt and suspenders, having taken off his fancy jacket earlier because of the heat.

I don’t know why, but my skin crawls to have him this close to me.

Fingers shaking, I take the fork from him as I nod.

“Thank you,” I whisper. My stomach pitches forward as if I’m going to be sick, and I swallow hard. I don’t know why I feel like this, but my body is clearly warning me of something.

“You have such pretty hair,” Gareth murmurs as he runs his finger over a curl. I’m pressed up against the island in an attempt not to touch him, anxiety making it hard to breathe as I pant with fear. “I don’t know why your mother straightens her hair.”

“She doesn’t like her curls,” I rasp, my voice not sounding at all like me.

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