Page 51 of Vicious Sentiments

“Oh.” The tension in her face relaxes. “Well then. Okay.”

“But we’re not—”

She puts a hand up again. “I hope not. Otherwise, I have to kill Jules.”

Chapter Twenty-Nine

I’m bored out of my mind. I have no idea where everyone is—tucked in the corners of the massive house probably, but I don’t know where that is. I’m used to surviving, hiding, fending, dreading, and enduring, not being bored.

I already neatly folded up all the shopping bags and arranged everything on the dresser. I found hangers in the closet and hung up the few dresses I now have to my name. Julian even made me get bubble bath and body oils that I set in the bathroom.

I then fiddled around on the phone,myphone. How would I even know what apps I want if I don’t know of any? Julian has texted me, checking in and telling me that he set an appointment for me to take the driving test. I backspaced several texts before just saying ‘thank you’. I don’t know the first thing about driving. Everything in Bridgerock was within walking distance and I had stopped riding in my dad’s truck when I was seven. And of course, Kyle didn’t have a car. I’m anticipating failing and wasting Julian’s time.

I make my way down to the kitchen and then drift through the living room. There’s a staircase going to a level lower that I haven’t been down, and I inch towards it.

What do rich people even do all day? When they aren’t ordering people killed, I mean. I frown, remembering the name of the woman on Julian’s rap sheet.Melissa Lauder.

I take the steps slowly, running my hand along the banister of warm waxed wood.

Maybe the FBI is wrong. They can’t have all the facts right. I’m assuming that’s why they haven’t taken the family business down. It would need to be more than suspicion to bring charges, and the folder didn’t have anything concrete.

When I reach the bottom of the stairs, there’s a second living room with tiny slits for windows, dotted around the ceiling, and a wide hallway with dark doors that end with a curve, probably with more house.

Apparently, now I’m just an all around snoop because I start cracking doors, peeking inside. There is what looks to be a book room with a velvet chaise, a bathroom, another guest room and then the last door opens to a short hallway.

Stepping inside, I round the corner and freeze.

It’s a work out room, laden with mirrors circling the room and the most state of the art equipment I’ve ever seen. This isn’t Planet Fitness. Every machine has a screen and there is every kind of weight stacked around the room. But that’s not why I freeze.

Cape is laying on a bench press, shirtless. And oh, my god, I had no idea he had so many tattoos. They cover his chest and down his arms. They glisten with sweat, rippling along his very taut body. Does he even need to be working out when he already has all those muscles? No wonder thirty people didn’t survive him.

I can’t move even though I don’t want him to notice me. I’m transfixed, watching him pump and grunt. God, no one in Bridgerock looked like this. Does Julian have the same under his shirt? My stomach swoops.

“You know I can see you in the mirror right?”

Shit.

He heaves up the weight and sets it on the rack before pullinghimself up.

“Sorry. Sorry.” I back up to leave and then bump into the wall. My god.

‘Thinking of working out?” his tone is lax, absent, like he didn’t threaten to kill me just the other day.

“No. I just…” What? Was snooping around?

“Well you should.”

Excuse me?

He stands, whipping a towel off the bench nearby and dragging it across his face. “Come here. Let me size you up.”

What?

“That’s okay. I’m okay,” I say.

“Get the fuck over here.” He rolls his eyes, and before I can run, he takes two strides and I’m in his clutches.

He pulls me by the arm over to a scale and nudges me up, fingers prodding at my lower back.

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