Page 24 of Queen Of Dark Money

Therewould be no escape from here.Iwas stuck, plain and simple, at least forty floors up from ground level, with a guard at the front door, no fire escape, and a jailer with an alarm system.Ihad no phone, computer,Fitbit, tracker, nothing to help anyone find me, and no way to reach the outside world for help.

Fucked.

Yes, that was the word for it.

Fucked.

Itwas a long night, andIwas forced to face it alone, in a too-tight sequined dress, stilettos, and an empty room, nothing but my spiraling thoughts to keep me warm.

Morningcouldn’t come soon enough.

Itcame too fast,as it turned out, the sunlight streaming through spotless windows and blinding me just asIcrawled onto the bed and got comfortable atop satin sheets.Becauseof course it did.

Icouldn’t catch a break.

Sleepless, uncomfortable, sweaty, and irritated,Ipried a single eyelid open and peered around the room, taking in my surroundings in the light of day.

Iwas a snooper at heart, so with nothing else to do, my feet carried me to the nearby dresser.Typicalof someone who obviously didn’t live outside of his one room, the damned thing was bare, clear down to the never-before-used smell of fresh compressed wood that made up the majority of the drawers.Aftera quick search, which proved the rest as bare as the first, my attention turned to the closet.

Jackpot.

Behindthe floor-to-ceiling glass door was what looked like a man’s wardrobe, chock full of fancy button-downs, perfectly pressed pants, even ties and belts hanging from special loops on the wall.Thefabric felt softer than a cloud between my fingers asIshamelessly ran my hands over them, pleased to find some amount of ownership in here, and at the same time . . .

Itset me on edge.

Wasthis just an extension of his wardrobe, or wasIencroaching on someone’s personal space?Iwas suddenly awash with a wave of guilt at possibly touching some random man’s things.

Butwasn’t that fuckface a stranger, too?

Stone?Wasthat what he’d called himself on the phone?

Theguys in the car just called himthat fucking prickanddickwad.

Themirror door slid closed quietly asIturned away from it in search of a bathroom.Maybethe door on the opposite side of the room was an attached oneIcould use to wash my face and finger comb my hair.Ifelt like a piece of literal shit, and my tongue could have been mistaken for a roll of shag carpet.Swallowingwas nigh on impossible, so with a wince,Ishoved at the door and sent up a silent prayer that there was running water of some kind on the other side.

“Holyfuck nuggets, thank you, sweet babyRay’s,”Imuttered, spotting a sink, a shower, a very upscale shower, and a toilet–everything a woman could want for a morning in captivity.Rummagingunder the counter rewarded me with a washcloth, a brand new toothbrush still in the wrapper, and a bottle of face wash.Allin all, a good haul, considering.

Fiveminutes later,Ifelt like half a human, which was so much better than the two-day-old roadkillI’dresembled waking up.Therings around my eyes from mascara and eye shadow were gone, and my fake eyebrows washed away.

Bendingover the weird sink wasn’t as challenging asI’dexpected it to be, andIsucked down a stomachful of water to quench the dryness in my throat.Iwas still bent over the sink, lapping up water like a damn dog, when the bathroom door swung open and revealed a very irate but well-put-togetherMr.Stone, his arms crossed over his chest, eyes narrowed as he took in the scene before him.

Ourstandoff couldn’t have lasted more than a few seconds, but it felt like an eternity in which neither of us moved, spoke, or even breathed.Irefused to be the one to break the silence, so it was a relief when his raspy morning voice dragged itself out of his mouth and over every nerve ending in my body.

“Whatin the fuck are you doing, drinking from the sink like a dog?”

Ireached up, switched off the water, and gave him a megawatt smile my mother would have been proud of.

Icould have been smart.Icould have told him exactly what he wanted to hear.Icould have kept my mouth shut and just shrugged.Imight’ve even said something polite and unassuming.

Butno.Iwas none of those people.

Andso, in trueKenziefashion,Irolled my eyes and swiped a hand across my mouth, dragging away the moisture there. “Woofwoof, motherfucker.”

CHAPTER TEN

JASPER

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