Page 114 of Bought and Broken

The car gets here fifteen minutes later, and we’re on our way. We stop at my house first to drop me off. Mason gives me a hug before I get out.

“Night, babe. See you tomorrow.”

“Bye, Mason.”

The car stays until I’m inside the house, then it takes off to drop Mason a few blocks down.

I hang up my stuff and kick my shoes off before heading upstairs to my bedroom. I get undressed, throw my hair up, and hop in the shower. I hate how sweaty I get at the club, but I have so much fun with Mason. I’d never been to a place like that before I got here, and I love that I can experience it now without having to hide it from anyone. If I were still home, there’s no way I’d be doing things like bartending and going to clubs.

The bathroom off my bedroom is the only full one in the house. And it’s twice the size of the bathroom downstairs. I love how spacious it is, and the ventilation works so well. I like that I can shower and get dressed in here because it isn’t too hot afterward. Even my fancy house in Michigan had crappy ventilation.

I put on my pajamas before going through my nightly routine of brushing my teeth and putting moisturizer on my skin. I let my hair down and brush it.

I go into my bedroom, tossing my dirty towel into the laundry basket and go right for bed. I’m exhausted. Thankfully Mason isn’t dragging me anywhere tomorrow and I can take it easy before I have to be on shift. Sunday nights aren’t as busy as some of the other nights, but they’re still busy.

My bed is a damn mess because I never make it. Which is why I don’t notice right away that there is something on it. Something that I didn’t put there.

“What the fuck?” I whisper to myself, a shiver running up my spine. My heart pounds in my chest as dread fills my veins.

The thought of someone being in my house is terrifying. But the thought of someone being in my house, going through my things, and leaving something on my bed is… I can’t find the words.

I swallow hard and take a small step back, my eyes still locked onto the pink vibrator laying by my pillow.

Chapter Fifty-Three

Devon

I turn and run, but don’t get very far. I slam into a hard, warm body, which has me shrieking. I jerk away, nearly stumbling to my ass. When I right myself, I lock eyes with the intruder.

“You asshole!” I scream, lunging for Tate and beating on his chest. “You could have given me a heart attack. What is wrong with you? Why are you here? What are you doing, you psychopath?” I scream at him, all the while still hitting him. He just stands there and stares at me, that blank expression of his firmly in place. “What are you—”

I stop abruptly, my gaze slowly going back to the bed when I remember what started all of this.

“Did you put that there?” I ask in a low, vicious tone. “Why are you going through my things, Tatum?” I shove him again. Of course he doesn’t move.

I knew he’d make contact with me at some point. He hasn’t spent the last three days stalking me for nothing. But I did not expect him to break into my house and go through my sex toys only to put them on display. I thought he would be normal and ring the doorbell or even do something more Tate-like and drag me out of work, demanding I talk to him.

“Is this your version of some sick apology?” I shout. “Did you think putting that there would make me use it so you could hide in the shadows and watch, you sick fu—”

“You enjoyed me watching you tonight,” he says simply.

I scowl.

“You even put on a little show,” he adds, taking a step closer to me. My eyes widen. “Did you think I wouldn’t notice what you were doing, Devon?” His tone is low, dark.

Why is he talking to me like this? I’m the one who’s mad at him, yet he’s treating me like I’m the one in the wrong here.

“This is different,” I say, panting.

“Oh? Why’s that? Because I’m right here in front of you?” He steps closer and I move back. “Because you have nowhere to go?” Another step. “Because it’s just you and me and you know that you could scream for help all you want, but I’d still get what I want?”

My back bumps the wall and I gasp.

“Y-you wouldn’t do that.”

His brow rises. “No?”

I shake my head, but I’m not so sure I believe that.

---