Page 110 of Unorthodox
But I don’t go in.
I let the door thud back closed, walk a few more steps, and stand outside of another door. It’s bigger than the bathroom door. Dark wood, a golden knob.
I debate opening it, but just as I go to reach for it, I hear something beyond it.
Something that sounds like moaning.
A name.
A name.
“Max!”Coming from a feminine voice I vaguely recognize.
Evora.
My stomach churns, and I ball my hands into fists, thinking of opening the door, bursting inside and…what?
What the fuck would I do?
I hear it again, his name on her lips.
I think of him, with me. The way I gasped his name. The way he felt, angry and volatile, punishing and dominating.
Is he like that with her, right now? Does he use her the same way?
There’s a pain in my jaw from clenching my teeth and I back away, trying to breathe. To think. I grip the door to the bathroom and stumble inside, away from those sounds I never want to hear, ever again in my life.
I close the door, leaning against it, try to take in my surroundings.
Try to push the thought that Max was fucking Evora while he was supposed to be with me from my mind.He was supposed to be with me.
The bathroom is shockingly small, a single stall. With the enormity of this home, I expected something bigger, but I don’t think about that. Instead, I force myself away from the door, stand in front of the sink, my hands on the cool marble of the counter. I glance at my own reflection, and even with the makeup Mamie applied, I can see the faint remnants of the bruise on my throat.
I see, too, the red veins among the whites of my eyes, the circles beneath my lower lash line. The hollowness of my shoulders, on display with the red strapless dress.
I see the ways I’ve fallen apart since coming to Max. Even though my life with my father wasn’t a picnic, I didn’t have to see him often after I had my surgery. He lost interest in me, and I held my own, after a while, with his guards. I let them use me as I used them, but I wasn’t exactly aslave.
Now, though, that’s all that I am.
I glance at the door, wondering if I should lock it. Wondering if Zeke will even find me in here. Wondering if heknewwhat I’d hear outside of that door.
There’s a toilet at my back, and I think of sinking down on it. Catching my breath. Maybe running from here, away from Max and Zeke and the guards.
I could leave again. I could find my own way out.
Making up my mind, I move away from the sink, toward the door. But then it opens quickly, and I take several, hasty steps backward.
I recognize Zeke, notice how much taller he is standing than he seemed when we were seated.
But I don’t get to say a word to him before he reaches for me, his hand over mine.
“We don’t have much time,” he says, glancing over his shoulder at the empty hall at his back. He pulls me out of the bathroom, and I feel a sense of relief, tension leaving my shaky limbs as we’re in the hall again.
At least he’s not going to kill me in the bathroom.
“Where are we going?” I ask in a hushed whisper as he leads mepastthe room Max is fucking Evora in, away from the entertainment room. The hall seems to stretch on forever, and all the while we walk, Zeke holds my hand tight, darts his gaze around us, checking for someone who might stop us.
My mouth feels dry as we keep walking, apprehension settling in again.
