Page 55 of Ramsay

Baby, I’m tired of waiting, you know you’re mine

Baby, I was gonna give you a pass for the dick in the parking lot, but…

Cherry, you better fucking take me seriously

There are dozens of messages similar to these. Jagger somehow got my number, and now I’ll be subjected to his obsessive need to fucking torture me unless I change it again.

Don't make me fucking hurt you, you know I don't like to

Fuck me, but I don't need Jagger back in my life. With a shiver, I shove the phone in my purse. It was stupid to go to that damn fight. I was skirting the line, and I fucking jumped it without thought and not for the first time, I curse myself for getting involved with him in the first place.

He’s a creepy fucker, but I couldn't see past his adoration to the blackened soul beneath until it was too late, and now I’m stuck with him until he gets a clue and moves on.

“Trouble in paradise?” Ramsay asks, and the silky tone causes goosebumps to trail across my skin.

Declining to look in his direction, despite the delicious tremors breaking out in all the right places, I smile into the darkness outside the window and say, “Nope, just someone I’m hooking up with later.”

It's safe to say I’m disappointed when I get no response but for Ramsay’s amused chuckle. Sighing inwardly, I go back to dozing while I wait out the longest fucking drive of my life.

It's only as we pull up to the door of a high-rise apartment, I realize the guys haven't spoken a single word to each other and its tense as fuck in the SUV. I’m thankful when we arrive, but before I can let myself out, Diem exits and pulls the passenger door open for me.

The small smile lighting his face makes me blink and I search my brain for the reason why all of a sudden, I have a serious case of deja vu. Have we done this before?

A wave of ice cascades down my spine and I stare at his fingers like they might bite me until he says with an amused lilt, “Take my hand, Willow.”

Right. Fuck. Placing my hand in his, I step from the vehicle and onto the sidewalk, after which, he guides me forward and lets the door swing into Ramsay’s face.

Ramsay pushes the door back open with a scowl but doesn’t deign to comment as Oliver rounds the vehicle and stops beside Diem. Standing together, they’re fucking magnificent. Diem with his bulging muscles. Oliver with his surfer good looks. Ramsay with those bright eyes.

Fuck me. Let it go.

With that, I turn away defensively, looking up at the building.

It's huge. An apartment complex in the heart of the city that surely must cost a fortune to live in. I’m no longer on my side of town and how Ramsay thinks I’m gonna pass as a little debutante is beyond me.

I shudder at the low rumble of their voices, reminded of Oliver’s cruel words earlier and walk away from the pulse it creates in me because I’m so sick to my stomach that I don't even want to hear Ramsay’s damn voice. Fuck him. Fuck.

Unfortunately, I’m stuck until I keep my end of the deal but that doesn’t stop me from glaring at his fucking hand when he loops his arm through mine and tuts, “Patience, love. Your fuck buddy will have to wait until I’ve gotten mine, hm?”

Ignoring the double entendre, I grit my teeth and give him a bland smile, annoyed when he smirks in return and pulls me along, calling over his shoulder, “Wait for my word.”

Once inside the posh lobby, Ramsay wastes no time marching me into the waiting elevator and pressing the button for the penthouse floor. It didn't even occur to me to ask what floor we’d be heading to until now, but of course, rich dicks live at the top.

Which—shit, I’m fucking terrified of high places, but I don't have the luxury of being afraid tonight. Not with Ramsay standing beside me and watching my every step. I can just imagine what the punishment will be if I back out of this one and it’s not a pretty image.

“You’re a little troublemaker, aren’t you, love?” Ramsay murmurs.

Glancing up, I meet his mocking stare in the mirrored doors and watch as he drops his gaze down my form, his nostrils flaring at my bare legs. But when they come back to mine, his eyes are ice cold.

Ignoring the small shiver, I pull my arm from his and turn my head away. This is fucking torture.

The party is raging when we step through the elevator doors, the music so loud, I can feel it pumping under my feet. Stopping at the threshold, Ramsay tugs my arm, leaning in to whisper in my ear, on purpose like a dick, “Remember, distract the mark when it's time. Don't fucking stray from the plan. Don't try to grow a brain, and don't fucking bother with snooping. Got it?”

Gritting my teeth so hard that pain shoots up my jaw, I nod my head while icily staring at the door. I observe his chin dip from the corner of my eye but when he opens the door, what greets me is not what I expected. I’m sure the apartment is super nice and beautifully decorated, but I can’t see it because the place is packed from wall to wall.

Along the fringes, half-dressed guys and girls writhe all over the place, openly fucking each other, with drugs lining the hard surfaces, laid out like a buffet. These rich kids are doing lines casually and chasing it with high priced cocktails out of fancy glasses.

I guess I shouldn't be surprised, drug use is just as rampant here, but the decadence is overwhelming.

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