Page 20 of Sugar Coated

Now it was my turn to snap back, “What’s he going to do? Chain me to a piece of furniture and keep me locked in here for the rest of my life?”

Referencing my kidnapping was the answer, it turned out. Tessa’s mouth thinned into a line, and though she made it clear she had more she wanted to say, she only shook her head and spun around on her feet, marching right out of my room.

Good. Fuck that woman. I wasn’t going to listen to anything she said. If I was being honest, I never liked her, even before my Devil took me. She acted so fine and proper, like she was better than everyone else. The stick up her ass must’ve been there her whole life.

Once she was gone and I was alone in my room, I sat on the foot of my bed and sighed, my whole body slumping with the action. My eyelids closed, and for a split-second, I was back in that room. Not the basement room I spent two years of my life in, but the room at the party, where my Devil had finally taken me.

He was still out there, still watching me. He had to have been the one to alert Mike. There was no other explanation that made sense.

He came to me, made himself known. Why wouldn’t he save me? Why contact Mike? If he was worried I would demand to seehis face… it was obvious the man didn’t want to share that part of himself with me yet. I would’ve respected it.

I pushed those thoughts out of my head, but one question refused to go away, no matter how badly I willed it to.

How did my Devil get Mike’s number?

Chapter Four – Laina

As much as I wanted to revel in the dirt from last night—dried sweat and other things from my Devil and Fang—I was starting to look like a cotton candy-colored raccoon, so after a while I hopped in the shower. My face was tender from that asshole hitting me twice; I’d have to put some makeup on once I got out to cover up the impending bruises that would only deepen over the next day or two before they started to heal.

Having dyed hair like this meant making some sacrifices. Getting rid of sulfates, using special shampoos that were gentler on hair dye, and not washing it every day were only a few of them.

Another sacrifice? Taking showers in steaming hot water. Don’t get me wrong; I turned that handle as hot as it would goafterI washed my hair, but prior to that, I actually stood there in water that may not have been ice cold, but was still way too cold to fully shower in.

I know, I know. I was a psychopath.

I didn’t rush once my hair was out of the way. I took my time in scrubbing my body, all the nooks and crannies, washing away every remnant of last night’s events while the memory of it burned bright in my mind.

Kelly had probably messaged me. I’d need to pick up a new phone sooner rather than later.

After my shower, I couldn’t blow-dry my hair—the heat messed with the pastel colors, too. Pastel was, according to the stylist, one of the hardest colors to keep fresh-looking. Once it faded, it’d simply fade to blond… or a splotchy mess. I’d have to stay on top of it if I wanted to keep it looking nice.

I changed into some clean clothes and rubbed some concealer on my jaw to hide the bruising. The bruise was literallythe only evidence of my kidnapping last night. That, and the fact that my phone had been lost.

My stomach growled in hunger once I finished up the makeup, so I decided to make myself some pizza rolls. As far as I could hear, Tessa was still gone, and my dad was still at work. I had a bit of time to myself, so I’d relive the glory days, so to speak, and drown my feelings in crunchy, piping-hot pizza rolls fresh out of the oven.

God, that shit was good.

Mike kept to himself, which was fine. If we were pretending nothing was going on between us, then we needed to go back to the very beginning, when he was a newcomer to my life, a stranger living in this house.

Eating alone in my bedroom, I was reminded of my time as a captive in that basement, with nothing but a TV as my main source of company. I saw everything on that screen. My dad’s search for me. His wedding to Tessa. His poll numbers steadily rising. I watched it all with a growing resentment in my heart.

If my dad did this all to up his numbers, to win him that seat, why couldn’t it have been a fake kidnapping? Set me up in a nice hotel somewhere far away or something. Why have someone actually kidnap me?

Unless he knew I wouldn’t like going along with it—but at that point in my life, I was still the perfect daughter. I did everything my dad wanted me to. I smiled and posed in front of the cameras with him, whenever he needed me to. I’d never seen him more happy than he was when he was vying for a political career, and I wanted him to be happy.

Now… things were just different. I was different. I didn’t care about his happiness. I only cared about mine.

The pizza rolls finished, I found myself on my pillow on my bed, curled up on my side. The exhaustion must’ve been deeperin my bones than I thought, because the next thing I knew, I fell asleep—and unlike most of my sleep, this one was dream-filled.

I sat on a pink bed in a small room, though I wasn’t chained to it. My legs were pulled up to my chest, and I hugged them there. I wasn’t scared or frightened. I was… I didn’t know what I was, actually. My emotions were a hazy mix of complicated, and right now I didn’t feel like figuring any of them out.

The TV resting a few feet away from the bed was broadcasting nothing but static, and the sound was loud enough to eat away at my soul, the total definition of annoying. I couldn’t remember how long it’d been like that, but I knew he’d never leave it like this on purpose. He’d never do anything that would annoy me, other than leaving me alone when I didn’t want him to.

Suddenly the door to the room flied open, and someone stood there, a strange, bright light shining behind him so brilliantly it was hard for my eyes to focus on him.

My Devil. It was my Devil. He didn’t look like he was wearing a mask, but with that bright light illuminating his silhouette, I couldn’t discern a single detail on his face. He could be anyone.

His shoulders rose and fell with hard, heavy breaths, and he made no moves to come to me. At his sides, his hands were balled up into fists. Was he angry at me? Had I done something wrong, something to upset him? My mind swirled with possibilities, but none came into focus.

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