Page 188 of Intense
He opens up the door and nods for me to go in. I stop and take in the room. Set up exactly like his office at work.
A desk with a chair and a bed, but this one has chained restraints. Next to it, an ECG machine. No windows.
Just white walls and floors and a fucking sink.
“On the bed, please,” he asks.
My feet don’t move.
Something feels different about this room. A shift in the energy. It’s colder, it’s more serious.
His words playing heavily on my mind.
I close my eyes; I don’t have time to figure a way out. I don’t think there is.
There is only one explanation for this.
One reason why he is torn between hating and loving me.
Finn knows the fucking truth.
It hits me like a ton of bricks. What if he broke into my office at home? I was asleep by the time he came back to bed.
The whole needing the truth.
Doing the wrong thing.
He’s been teasing this moment this entire time.
He knows what I do.
But does he know what I did to him? Does he know I framed him?
He kills people.
He is part of the mafia.
If he knew, would I still be alive?
Bile rises up my throat. I have to play the game to survive. This wasn’t a joke or a test.
This is really fucking real.
He leads me over to the bed, and I blindly follow him and get up on the bed.
I’m numb.
As his fingers trail across my chest, removing my bra, a tingle of life jolts through me.
He fixes my wrists into the chains on the bed railings. He places the pads on my chest for the monitor.
The ECG whines to life, filling the room with the steady, loud thud of my heartbeat. Too fast. Too revealing.
I stare at the ceiling, my pulse hammering against my ribs.
The game is over for me. I lose no matter what.
Because when I tell him the truth, he’ll leave.
