Page 23 of Bought and Broken

I can do this. I can totally do this.

My stomach rumbles and then the hunger pains set in.

When was the last time I ate?

I think back and realize I haven’t eaten since lunch, and it was an early lunch. I never had dinner or even a snack before I went on stage. I need to get something to eat, or I’ll never sleep. There are only two things that keep me awake at night: being hot and being hungry.

I shove my phone into my bra strap by my boob and let myself out of the room.

Tatum better be locked away in his room, and hopefully he’ll stay like that all weekend, so I don’t have to see his stupid face.

His handsome face.

No, not going there. I will not think about how hot he looked in that suit.

Nope, I won’t do it. I refuse to be swayed by his good looks. It’s why he gets away with being so evil. He’s devilishly handsome, and it’s sickening. I will say seeing the scratch on his face made me proud, though.

The house is quiet as I make my way down the stairs. Ahead are floor to ceiling windows that overlook Chicago. The view is breathtaking, so I stop on the stairs to take it all in. Lights twinkle in the tall buildings against the dark sky. Cars look like little bright specks along the ground. There’s just something about Chicago that I love… I wouldn’t hate spending more time here. Just not with Tate.

The bottom floor is an open layout with the kitchen to the right and a living area to the le—ah, there he is. Great.

I pause when I reach the bottom landing and watch Tatum to see if he’ll look in my direction. He’s sitting on the couch with the TV on, but I see the mute icon in the corner. Tate’s head is to the side, and he’s not moving.

Likely asleep. Hopefully dead.

As long as I’m quiet while I get food, I should be fine. Tatum better have edible food that doesn’t require cooking. I’ll grab a bunch and go back upstairs.

His fridge is probably stuffed with containers of pre-portioned fruits and veggies for smoothies and filet mignon. Ugh, he’s so pretentious.

On tip-toes, I make my way into the kitchen and carefully pull open the fridge door. Okay, so there are some things I could grab and bring to my room to eat. Perfect.

Yogurt, fruit, overnight oats? When did he have time to make those? I don’t like oatmeal, so I’m not eating it. Yogurt I can handle, so I grab a pineapple one and the plastic container of cut-up strawberries and grapes. Though I know I won’t find any, I open the freezer to look for a Hot Pocket or Toaster Strudel. The freezer is empty other than ice. Of course it is.

Just because I’m nosy, I look through the cabinets, smiling when I find snacks. Nothing that I particularly like, so I don’t take them, but I grab the jar of peanut butter, sliced bread, and go back to the fridge for the celery I saw. With my hands and arms full, I manage to grab a knife, spoon, and even some napkins before hurrying up to my room.

I drop everything on the desk that’s across from the bed, sit, and feast.

Chapter Twelve

Devon

I hate to admit how well I sleep in this bed. How the hell does he have such a soft mattress? All night I felt like I was being cuddled by it, and I got the best sleep I’ve had in a while. Or maybe that was due to how tired I was and all the food I ate before going to sleep.

I lift my head, knowing something woke me. I’m too groggy to have woken up on my own, but looking around the room, I don’t see anything out of place. My phone isn’t ringing, and when I tap the screen, I don’t see a missed call. The door is closed, still locked—did someone knock?

“Hello?” I call out, but don’t get a response.

If I didn’t have to pee so badly, I’d go back to sleep. After almost choking on a peanut butter sandwich last night, I went back downstairs for a drink and thought chugging two bottles of water before crawling into bed was a good idea. Probably would have felt better if they were bottles of wine, but I’d be kicking myself in the ass for it now.

I get up, feeling gross for still being in my dress and lingerie from yesterday. I go right for the door and nearly trip on the basket outside of it.

I knew something woke me.

It’s an old-fashioned wicker laundry basket. There are neatly folded clothes inside with a note on top. I pick that up first and read it.

Thought you may need some things.

-Tatum

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