Page 10 of Stitched Up in You
“She got into our security easily. She could do the same to Pelican,” Mikael says.
“No. I don’t want a human here.”
“She may be the only way,” the hardened ghoul who has been by my side since before erecting my empire says, catching my attention with his brown gaze.
Fucking humans.
Chapter 4
BERNADETTE CRENSHAW
Isplash the cool water on my face, ignoring the droplets that pelt my thin sweater, uncaring for once if I have to deal with a damp chest for a few minutes. My body is on fire with embarrassment anyway, and a damp shirt is more soothing than uncomfortable for once.
My hands shake as I turn off the pretty brass faucet and glance around for a hand towel to wipe my face with and dab at my sore, cried-out eyes. I wipe my cheeks too before putting my glasses back on.
My gaze skates around the opulent but sparse bathroom I’ve been residing in since the goons brought me to my new prison suite. The walls are a cool beige like the rest of the place and more tasteless art hangs on the wall, but the bath soap is high end and smells nice. The floral smell is comforting even as my pulse thumps wildly in my veins.
“I am so screwed,” I whisper.
The soft sound echoes. I turn to lean against the cool bathroom counter, muffling my groan with the hand towel.
I cannot believe I asked him to get me my cat.
Poor Edgar.
At least I know that Mr. Carlson, the veterinarian, will be understanding, my family has been donating to his offices for years so Edgar should be okay for at least a couple of days. Maybe I can ask Mr. Stein again if I can somehow get him delivered to me. I’m sure he’s going to have a lot of questions on why I hacked his company. It’s only a matter of time.
I can show him my computer drive and surely, he will see I didn’t actuallydoanything.
A sharp rap on the door has my back stiffening. “Yeah?” I ask meekly and straighten up, coming alert at the intrusion.
“The boss wants to see you,” a gruff voice demands, one I recognize as one of the men who took me.
“I’ll be right out,” I say, my hands turning clammy instantly as nervousness gnaws a pit in my stomach.
Whatever happened, I can fix it. I just need to explain I didn’t actually take anything, and I didn’t do anything like what he’s accusing me of. This has all got to be some sort of huge mistake.
What really takes the cake is after I looked into his company, I started following him on social media and found his posts engaging. We have a lot of the same views when it comes to animal cruelty and protective measures for animals. Frank Stein had become someone I admire. Now, I feel like a complete jackass.
I step out of the bathroom and look up into the goon’s face. “Am I allowed to finally know my goons’ names?” I ask, genuinely curious, and flinch at the hatred I find when I look up into the guy’s blue eyes.
I glance away unable to hold his stare and watch as his carbon copy steps further into the room from the open doorway. My gaze catches on the full-sized bed, small eating area, and half kitchen. No window though, although I guess I can’t be choosy.
“I’m Bruno, he’s Nero,” the second big guy says, a crinkle of amusement pinching the corners of his eyes.
Hard hands push me from behind, and I yelp.
“Move,” Nero says, reaching for my arm.
I sidestep around him and make for the door, deciding I like his twin way more. “I’m coming, I’m coming.”
My gaze darts around the hallway we walk down, but no sounds can be heard, as if the floor is empty. If what I know is true about Frank Stein, I must be at Talbot Quarters and that skyline I saw earlier is New York.
This must be one of the hotel rooms, and I’m sure the room with all the glass windows is his penthouse office. Time Magazine did a piece on it because of some crazy art collector he had decorate it. Shit, I am in hot water this time, as granddad would say.
We come to an elevator, and I scramble inside before either of them get the bright idea to touch me. Once it’s on its way to Frank’s lair, I glance up at the big muscly men, noticing how they really are identical in every way. Probably the biggest men I’ve ever been around, until Frank Stein.
That man reminds me of the mountain fromGame of Thrones, like you know he’s just got to be packing a behemoth of a dick.
