Page 35 of Tell Me Why
When he leaves, I lock the door and fall onto the bed. I grab one of the pillows, shove it against my face, and scream into it until my throat is raw. Only when I’m completely exhausted do I shove the pillow aside and roll over onto my back.
Blinking up at the ceiling, my mind wanders to Christian, and that scene downstairs in the closet, the way he ate me up like a fucking buffet. Then that thing he did with the candlestick…
Ugh,I can’t think about him. Not now. What Ineedto be thinking about is how the hell I’m going to find incriminating evidence against the Sacred Sons. I need something big. Only something blackmail-worthy is going to keep a force like the Burning Crown in line after this is all over.
My thoughts drift to that diagram I found downstairs in the study. If I can just find something written in code, then I’m golden—because, if someone went to the trouble of encoding something, it must be valuable, right?
I blow out a breath. I should get back down to the study so I can look around again. If there’s a hidden closet in the dining room, then there must be more hidden areas throughout the house. And now that I know what I’m looking for, finding them should be easy…
The only problem—there’s currently a horde of sex-hungry guys prowling around the ground floor, so sneaking down there now isn’t a great idea…
But Christian said more girls were coming. If I wait until they get here, then the guys will be distracted, and I can sneak into the study without being noticed. I mean, hopefully. I have to try. I honestly don’t know when I’ll get another chance.
First order of business, though, is getting out of this porn-star robe. My initial thought is to grab one of Christian’s hoodies, but on my way to the closet, I spot my duffel bag in a heap by the door.
I blink down at it, confused.
Christian must have asked someone to move it here while we were downstairs. Unzipping it, I riffle through and find a pair of panties, a bra, my white, long-sleeved crop top, and a short denim skirt. I leave the necklace on, because why tempt Christian’s anger by removing it?
Once I’m dressed, I wander around Christian’s bedroom–opening drawers, pulling books off shelves, looking for hidden compartments. I’m pushing on everything, the walls, the molding around the bookcase, the mantel on the fireplace, hoping for something to pop open, when, finally…it does.
“Oh, shit,” I breathe, stepping back. The mantel is obviously very old, made of intricately carved wood, and when I pushed on the front, a panel flipped down to reveal a small hidden compartment.
Stepping closer, I peer inside. It’s mostly empty, except for two keys that are attached by a single loop, resting on a bed of dust. I pick them up and study them.
They’re building keys. All campus keys look exactly the same—long and skinny—except for codes etched into the yellowish metal that tell the Key Office which building or office they open.
Do these keys open the office where the Sacred Sons keep their records?
Dare I hope?
It’s clear they open an office somewhere on campus, but where? There’s no way for me to know, unless I ask someone at the Key Office, and who knows if they’ll tell me.
Laughter floats up from the lawn outside, drawing my attention. I toss the keys back into the hidey hole and close it back up, then lean over and peek out the window. A couple of dozen girls are cutting across the manicured lawn from the direction of campus, all wearing fox masks that cover the top halves of their faces. As I watch them make their way to the house, I wonder if Skye is with them. But it’s dark, and with the masks, it’s hard to tell.
Turning away from the window, I continue with my exploration of Christian’s room. Unsurprisingly, in his nightstand, he has anentire drawerfilled with random pill bottles and condoms. Honestly, I’m impressed. He might be a manwhore, but at least he’s asafemanwhore. Small miracles, I guess.
I tuck one of the foil packets into the pocket of my skirt, because after I explore the study, I’m one-hundred percent looking for some anonymous dick downstairs. One hundred percent.
I wait about thirty minutes before dipping out of the bedroom and tiptoeing my way downstairs. The hunt is in full swing. Music blares from the living room, and shadows dart across my path, excited squeals echoing through the dark hallways. I pop my head into the livingroom, just to see what’s going on, and several masked people are already fucking on the couch—gag—or pressed up against the wall.
Turning down the hallway, I head toward the study, walking carefully so I don’t trip. In the dim candlelight, I can barely see anything. To my point, right then, my foot bumps into something soft and I stumble.
“What the fuck? Watch where you’re going,” someone hisses from the ground. Two faint shadows shift beneath my feet.
“Oh, shit. Sorry,” I mumble, jumping aside and quickly moving on. I can guess what they’re doing—the sound of lips on skin and fabric rustling makes it obvious. Which…whatever.
As I move further down the hall, I see a fox mask dangling from a wall sconce, and I snatch it up. It probably belongs to the girl on the floor, but too bad, so sad. It’s mine now.
Slipping the mask on, I push the study doors open and step inside. Like the rest of the house, the room is dimly lit, candles flickering on the mantel and in wall sconces around the room. Thankfully, the room is empty.
I quickly find the book with the diagram, then I pull the paper out and slip it into my pocket with the condom. Then slowly, methodically, I make my way around the room, scrutinizing the walls, looking for a crack or seam in the wallpaper…
“You’re not hiding,” someone says from behind me, his voice distinctly lighter, friendlier than Christian’s. “Is it fair to say I’ve caught you?”
Swallowing, I turn and face the stranger. He’s halfway across the room— huge, broad-shouldered with dark hair, and like the other guys, he’s wearing a black mask that covers his face.
“I came in here to find a place to hide,” I lie. “But I got distracted.”
