Page 4 of Wicked Little Game
If I knew nothing about his background, I would feel pity for him. I wonder if I’m getting old because I catch myself judging Ruby for her prepubescent behavior. To spare Mr. Barron the humiliation, I act like I didn’t witness this sad encounter when he comes back to my room.
“You think you have everything under control, Mr. Mills?” I nod and he sighs as he looks down at his phone.
“I have to leave again. I’ll be gone for around two weeks. Money never sleeps, right?”
He laughs while I wonder in what kind of movie this man lives in. The Godfather, just a guess. “If anything happens, please don’t hesitate to call me. If I can’t come, I’ll send you some of my men.” Definitely the Godfather.
Why is it always me who ends up with the crazies on missions? Why not Logan? He could just out-crazy them.
“And Mr. Mills, I know I already said it, but Ruby is not allowed to leave the house. Under no circumstances. Trust me, it’s easier to keep her in here than to drag her back home from God knows where. And don’t let her fool you. Whatever she tells you, there’s no need for her to go out. Groceries are delivered two times a week, and she has access to my credit cards in case she, or you, need anything.”
I nod and he shakes my hand, breathing out in relief. He stops midway on his way out of the door as if he just remembered something important.
“Keep an eye on the driveway.”
With that, he leaves. Not even five minutes later, I hear the engine of his car starting. I want to get out of those damned slacks, because one night in day clothes was more than enough, but first, I should introduce myself to Ruby.
I pull my black balaclava over my head, going through the brief speech I prepared for her.
When Logan and Max drink enough to become courageous, they make fun of my mask. But at least our enemies don’t recognize my face. If one of them ever gets killed because of this, I’ll say, “Told you so,” at the funeral.
Professionalism isn’t the only reason for the mask, at least not now. Ruby isn’t that dangerous, but something still tells me that it’s better not to let her see my face.
Maybe it will help with keeping her in check. Usually, people are at least a bit intimidated when they see a faceless black mass standing in their doorway. The effect would be better with a differentoutfit, though.
From what Mr. Barron told me, I have a feeling her last bodyguards were mostly buff guys in need of a bit of cash, and if I’m right with that assumption, she’s in for quite the surprise.
3
RUBY
Icaught a glimpse of the new bodyguard when he took his luggage out of the trunk. It really was nothing more than a glimpse, because all I saw was a massive body and what I think was short brown hair. Before I could make out more, my father turned around and looked up at my window. I took that as a sign to stop lurking.
When I heard how my father told him that he had to leave again, it felt as if a weight was lifted off of my shoulders. This house is huge and while it is easy to avoid running into each other, I still prefer to stay in my room whenever my father is around. This time, I had to hide for an entire week because he fired the last bodyguard and wouldn’t let me stay here unsupervised.
I need to get out of here.
Out of this house, and then I’ll think about the rest.
I would love to get out of this country, or better, out of this life. My last escape attempt ended in a screaming match with one of his men at the airport. But if I have to spend another hour in this room, I’m going to go insane.
I can only hope that the new bodyguard is as disinterestedin his actual task as the others have been. Most of them were as attentive as human-sized plushies and came with a physical appearance that made it tempting to have them keep me company whenever I felt lonely.
Right now, not even my favorite show is enough to distract me, so I grab my phone and message Sarah while I get up and walk over to my closet. She leaves me on read, like most of the time. Since the big fight with my father and my breakup with Brian, she has been acting weird.
Over the past few months, I realized that she never deserved an award for being the most caring friend in the world, but the way things are now is outright humiliating.
Maybe my lack of real friends is part of the reason I prefer the company of men who get paid to spend time with me. They don’t leave me on read and a contract keeps them from going anywhere. Until my father fires them and I never hear from them again.
Not that I expect, let alone want it. I dug myself a pretty little misery hole that feels way too comfortable to leave. While my misery hole may be cozy, my misery room isn’t, so I text Dom that I need him to drive me to my favorite spot. Just a few hours will be enough to shut my head off. At least for tonight.
Something about the new guy seems different though, and I don’t want him to look at me all pitiful when he finds out that I sneak out of this house to sit by a lake and feed ducks like a grandma. I haven’t been to the park for more than a week. Harry and Sally surely miss me already.
Jesus, how did I go from someone who had their own VIP booth at The Red Room to someone who’s attached to ducks at the park?
As I look through my dresses, I’m not entirely sure who I want to fool with this act. Maybe the new guy, maybe myself, maybe a bit of both.
The dress I pick out is one I bought a few years ago, back when I still had a social life. Dark red satin, barely long enough to cover my ass. I know I have earrings that match the rhinestone straps somewhere.
