Page 10 of Bitter Queen (Advantage Play 4)

The clear glass shower door is heavy as I pull it open and turn on the hot water. When my attention catches on a razor, I freeze, then take it out of the small space while hating the fact that suicide even crossed my mind.

“I’ll just be outside,” I announce.

Her dainty fingers reach for my forearm and showcase the contrast between her pale skin and my olive tone as she prevents me from leaving. Curious, I drag my stare from her innocent touch and up to her bruised face. Her chin drops down to her chest before she releases her hold, pushes her long, painted hair over one shoulder, then gives me her back.

“W-will you unzip me?”

Without a word, I take the tiny piece of metal that holds her stained dress together between my fingertips. The zipper slowly reveals inch after inch of soft, milky white skin marred with fresh cuts and purple bruises. Turning my head away from the evidence of her abuse, I finish tugging the zipper down before it stops at the base of her spine.

The fabric drops to the floor and pools around our feet. Then a very naked Q glances over her shoulder at me with big, doe eyes. Tempting me. Testing me. Daring me to be the man she thinks I am.

But I’m not him.

And I hate that she can’t see that.

Clearing my throat, I turn away and grab the scissors off the counter. “I’ll be in your room. There should be shampoo and shit in the shower. I’ll go find something for you to change into when you’re finished.” Forcing myself to look back at her, I keep my expression indifferent and ask, “Do you want the door open or closed?”

“Open,” she whispers, holding my stare. The air is electric, threatening to consume me if her eyes weren’t filled with so much hatred.

But they are. And it’s that bitterness that convinces me to leave.

With a nod, I hold the scissors and razor in one hand, then push the door as far open as it will go before getting the hell out of there.

4

Q

The hot water burns my back as I rinse the dye from my long hair. It’s almost a blue-gray color with a hint of purple. Mesmerized, I watch it swirl down the drain. A ghost of a smile spreads across my face before disappearing just as quickly.

I actually kind of like it.

As the water runs clear, I glance toward the door that leads to the bedroom, expecting to find Diece watching me. But his shadowed figure is absent. Sliding onto my butt, I let the water wash over me in scalding rivulets while the last thirty minutes play out on repeat.

He didn’t touch me.

Even as I stood less than six inches away from him––naked––he didn’t take advantage. He didn’t even look. What does that mean?

It was almost easier in Sei’s captivity because I knew exactly what to expect from everyone around me. But here? I’m left confused and on edge. I don’t know what to do. I don’t know what to think. I don’t know what to believe.

Why didn’t he touch me?

The water starts to cool, making goosebumps spread along my bare skin, so I push myself up and grab the dark, fluffy towel hanging on the rod outside of the glass shower. I flinch as it brushes against my sensitive flesh, then wrap it around my chest, tucking one corner between my breasts before crossing my arms and venturing into the bedroom.

A folded, extra-large T-shirt and sleep shorts sit on the edge of the bed, but my captor is nowhere to be seen. Convinced he’s hiding somewhere so he can sneak a peek of my bare body, I squat down to pick up the clothes then hide away in the bathroom to get dressed. I still can’t manage to close the damn door, though. Anytime I try, the walls come barreling in until I can’t breathe. Claustrophobia is a bitch.

The T-shirt is a faded black, but it’s soft. Comfortable. The worn material acts like a soothing blanket as it slides against my freshly cleaned skin, and it doesn’t show my nipples through the dark color. Satisfied, I slip on the shorts before realizing they’re men’s boxers. My expression sours when a soft knock at the door grabs my attention.

“Hey,” D interrupts, but he keeps his gaze glued to the floor as he hovers near the entrance from the hallway. “Are you decent?”

I want to laugh but restrain myself as I look over at him. Dark, wavy hair. Strong jaw. And muscle after freaking muscle. The guy’s huge. And terrifying. Even though he’s shown me nothing but kindness, I just…can’t trust him. I know what those muscles can do. What those fists can do.

My lips pull into a thin line, refusing to answer him.

It’s another test, though I doubt he knows it.

Brows pinched, I wait for him to sneak a peek, but his eyes stay glued to the floor as I stay hidden in the back corner of the bathroom.

“Q?” he calls gruffly after another few seconds. “Can I come in? Or do you need another minute?”

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