Page 35 of Vendetta

“I’ll set you up with one of my friends?” I tried.

“I can get women on my own.”

“I’ll cook you dinner every night for a week?”

“We have a chef.”

Of course they did.

“I’ll… spread a rumor across campus that I saw your dick and that it was the biggest, most massive thing I’ve ever seen in my entire life. And then I’ll do all of your homework for the rest of the semester plus all of your laundry plus I’ll even wash your motorcycle once a week.”

“Nope.”

“Ugh!” I let out, throwing my arms up in defeat. He was easily the most stubborn man I had ever met, with the exception of Cashton of course. It was exasperating.

I didn’t know what happened at finals, and I damn sure didn’t care to find out. And what was he planning on having me do for the next two days? I hadn’t seen him since he stormed off last night, having stayed seated on the counter for what felt like hours before finally giving up on him coming back and exploring the apartment myself.

It hadn’t taken me long to find the master bedroom, and I had taken the liberty of using his insanely large shower that was big enough to fit a small army. The entire ceiling above the space had been a rain shower, the water pressure at the perfect setting. It had felt heavenly after a long day of getting shovedinto a car trunk and then a dog crate and then fucked on a counter.

I had then found a plain white t-shirt in one of his dresser drawers along with a pair of boxers, needing to roll the waistband a few times to keep them from falling. Not that you could really see them much underneath the shirt, considering that it came down past mid-thigh.

The fact that the fridge had been well stocked took me by surprise since he didn’t seem to spend much time in the city, but I hadn’t complained, making myself a sandwich before heading back to the master bedroom and settling into his hunter green silk sheets. I had also made sure to lock the door to the bedroom in case he did come back at some point throughout the night. The asshole could take the couch.

“Why do you have to be so stubborn?” I asked, Kaptan making his way back down and not deigning me a response as he moved the ladder to the bedroom.

“Are you serious? The bedroom? What, is he going to watch me sleep and stuff?” I huffed.

“I doubt that would be very riveting to watch.” He mused.

“You guys are the worst” I said, letting out a breath before stomping out of the bedroom like a petulant child. The audacity of these men.

Kaptan left shortly after and Cashton never returned, leaving me the entire apartment to myself for the next two days. I found some architecture books in his bedroom but quickly gave up on attempting to understand any of their content.

The fridge was well enough stocked that I found ingredients to make myself croque monsieur, some eggsbenedict, and a coconut chicken curry. I had to admit, the massive kitchen was quite fun to cook in. I had made sure to flip the occasional finger to the camera in case Cashton was watching.

It was Friday morning when he finally showed back up, the elevator dinging as he walked in, looking handsome as ever in his jeans and black hoodie. I noticed some faint bruising along his jaw. Had he gotten into a fight? And why did he have to be so handsome?

“Let’s get this over with.” He grumbled, not missing a beat as he stalked towards me. He didn’t seem the least bit surprised to see me in his clothes, so I guess he must have been watching me over the cameras after all.

“Tell me what happens at finals.” I demanded, crossing my arms as I glared up at him. The asshole had given me whiplash the last time I had seen him, first shoving me in a cage and treating me like the shit on the bottom of his shoe but, then turning right around to save me and then give me the best sex of my life. And after all of that, storming out of the apartment without a word and disappearing for the next few days. Cashton was an enigma.

I wasn’t naive enough to think that our hooking up had meant anything to him, but I still had hoped that maybe things had changed between us. The emotion in his eyes as he had looked at me, and the way he had held me like he physically couldn’t let go. I could have sworn that I had felt something pass between us. But now we were back to his angry, broody self. Trying to understand anything about this man was exhausting.

“You’ll find out soon enough,” he replied, stopping directly in front of me. I had to tilt my head back to meet hiseyes, all emotion that I had seen on Tuesday night long gone now. The vibrant shade of green had turned back to their typical harshness, nothing but cruelty mixed with indifference.

“Please, Cashton,” I tried, hoping that maybe if I asked nicely, he might feel more compelled to give me something.

“No,” he replied, cold and hard.

I huffed out a breath, giving up. He reached out to grab me, his strong hands gripping both of my arms before pulling them together behind my back and shifting to where one of his hands held both of my wrists behind me. I felt a zip tie tighten them together moments later.

“What are you doing?” I exclaimed, desperately trying to pull away, but his grasp was too firm. My pleas went unheard, not a word from him as he pulled a burlap sack out of his back pocket and threw it over my head. My eyesight was immediately cut off, unable to see through the rough and scratchy material.

“Cashton!” I begged, panic setting in. I felt him grab my upper arm, pulling me forward towards the direction of the elevator. My senses were hindered, and I had to fight not to stumble.

“Cashton, please! At least tell me what’s going on.”

He gave me nothing but silence as I heard the elevator door close, beginning our descent. The panic turned to frustration as I realized he wasn’t planning on telling me anything. I had gone back to being nothing to him, that night in the kitchen completely forgotten.

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