Page 11 of Double Dare

He’s always at the forefront of my mind, but when Adrian had his gun inside of me, Dario was definitely not what I was thinking about. I’m losing sight of what matters and what’s important, and I know that isn’t good.

The lock on my door clicks, yanking me from my thoughts. I move to the edge of my bed and wait, ready for whatever he may try to do today, but the door never opens. I ponder on if this is a sick joke for all of two minutes before I finally stand and make my way to the door.

I open it slowly, not really sure what to expect. Peeking my head into the hall, I look both ways and see no Adrian and no goons. Stepping out, I wrap my arms around my chest and continue my survey, making sure I’m ready for anything that may come.

I try a few doors along the hall, all of which are locked, before making it to the landing of the stairs. As I start to descend, I can hear muffled talking. Following the soft chatter, I find myself at the entrance of the dining room.

Adrian sits at the head of the table. There’s a feast of eggs, bacon, pancakes, and juice laid out in front of him, while the two bald men from last night flank his sides.

“Your father would like to see you,” the one on the right comments, but Adrian doesn’t acknowledge him.

“And you’re needed at the opening of the new club on the North side next week. There is talk that the Clark family is planning an appearance.”

Adrian swallows the bite in his mouth before looking to the one on the left. “Clark’s at an event they know I’ll most likely be at?” he questions.

The man nods. “That’s what we’re hearing.”

“Fine. I’ll make my presence known when the time comes. And as for my dad…” He turns to the other man. “Tell him I’m busy and will come see him when I feel like it.”

“That won’t make him happy,” the guy replies.

Slamming his fists on the table, he stands and grabs the dude by the lapels of his designer suit jacket. “Yeah? And I don’t give a fuck. Right now, you’re not making me very happy.”

The man holds up his hands but keeps his face like a stone, showing no fear. “I’m just relaying a message, sir.”

Adrian nods, then drops his hold, smoothing out the fabric where he just gripped him. “You,” he says over his shoulder to the other man. “Relay that message to my father. This one is staying with me.”

He nods, then exits the room, dipping his head to me as he goes.

“Danica,” Adrian says, his booming voice startling me because I didn’t even think he noticed me standing here. “Come have breakfast.”

Inching my way further inside, I keep my defenses up, not stopping until I make it to the chair on his right. The bald man who didn’t flee pulls out the chair and instructs me to sit with a dip of his head.

As soon as I’m positioned comfortably, Adrian picks up his fork, then speaks to the man again. “Serve her,” he demands.

Without hesitation, the guy grabs the fine china in front of me and starts loading it with all the food on the table, then fills a crystal glass with orange juice.

Slowly, I pick up one of the golden forks with a shaky hand and bring a bite of eggs to my mouth. I savor its taste for a moment before swallowing. “Thank you,” I mumble.

Adrian shakes his head. “Don’t thank me. Being polite doesn’t suit you. Just eat because this asshole”—he points to the man with his fork—“will be serving you in more ways than one once you’re finished.”

Not sure what he means, and not brave enough to question it, I do what he says and eat. I enjoy every bite slowly, not wanting the meal to end and finding out what Adrian means, but all good things must come to an end.

When my plate is cleared and every drop of juice is vacant from my glass, Adrian wipes his mouth with a napkin, then throws it on his plate. “Delicious, wasn’t it?”

I nod, thankful that’s the only comment he makes.

He flashes me a dark smile, then stands, so I do the same. Only he doesn’t exit like I’m expecting. Instead, he pushes both arms in front of him and uses them to clear the table. Plates and cups shatter, food splatters the floor, and the decorative vase full of flowers hits the wall, leaving the table completely bare.

“Come here,” he demands, patting the table in front of him before settling back in his chair.

I step in front of him and stop, waiting to see what else he instructs. Reaching up, he stays silent as he rips the dress from my body, leaving me completely naked.

I hold myself in shock, trying to hide as much of my skin as I can, but it’s pointless. Adrian pushes me backward until the backs of my legs hit the table, and then he stands and lifts me, planting my ass on the shiny wood.

“Serve her,” he says again, sitting back down and crossing his legs.

“I’m sorry?” the man questions, looking at Adrian with confusion swirling in his eyes.

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