Chapter 32
Thirty-Two
Daphne
Brooks unzipped the suitcase, and I rolled out at his feet.
Kneeling beside me, he cut off my zip ties while I mentally planned his murder.
I’d make sure this was the last time he’d stuff me into something against my will. Trunks. Suitcases. Not fucking happening again.
I’d put up a small fight on the flight but eventually accepted that another round inside the suitcase was in my best interest.
Even from inside the luggage, I’d heard the swarm of reporters screaming Brooks’s name when he rolled me down the tarmac.
I could’ve only imagined their reaction if I’d popped out beside him.
Sur-fucking-prise!
I looked up at Brooks and realized he was no longer wearing his Saint Vale uniform.
A black tux now fit his body like a glove.
An expensive, looks too damn good glove.
Him being dressed meant the bastard had waited until after changing before releasing me. For that, I knotted my fist and punched him straight in the balls.
Consequences be damned.
I smirked when he clutched his crotch and fell to his knees, his forehead nearly meeting the carpet.
All is fair in kidnapping.
I pushed myself to my feet and ripped the tape from my mouth. It pulled painfully at my lips, leaving behind a sticky residue.
Brooks was still rocking on the floor.
I took advantage of his temporary suffering to look around.
A massive four-poster bed dominated the room. Curtains framed the windows, and everything looked expensive, historic, and very much like somewhere my kidnapped-ass wasn’t supposed to be.
“I can’t be here,” I said.
This wasn’t regular trouble.
This was a life in prison trouble.
Still clutching his balls, Brooks managed to press a finger to his lips. “Keep your voice down.”
“Oh, fuck you.” I headed for the door.
He kicked his leg out. I tripped over it and pitched forward, catching myself on one of the carved posts of the bed before my face introduced itself to the floor.
I whipped around. “Seriously?”
“Like I said, keep your voice down.” He dragged himself upright and straightened his tux jacket. “You’re not allowed here.”
“No shit, Sherlock.” I dropped onto the edge of the bed.
“If they find you, they’ll arrest you for trespassing.”
“You were the one who smuggled me in here!”
The last time I’d stepped foot into the White House was the night he had me spread eagle on the Resolute Desk.
“You think I’d tell them that?” Brooks asked. “You know my word is superior to yours, Princess.”
“Whatever.” I hated that he was right. “My face is superior to yours.” I lifted my chin. “I win.”
“It seems my maturity is also superior for that childish comeback.” He straightened one tux cuff, looking too smug for a man whose balls I’d just rearranged. “You no longer find me handsome?”
“Nope. Never did.”
“What do you consider me then?”
“An asshole.” I raised one finger. “Rude.” Another. “Arrogant.” Another. “Psychotic.” Another. “And a guy who seriously needs to find a new hairstyle that doesn’t resemble something an Abercrombie model would’ve sported in 2012.”
He made a show of running his hand through his hair. “You sure loved to tug on said hair when I was eating your pussy.” His fingers dropped to his mouth, slowly dragging across his lower lip. “And I have to say, I’ve tasted better.”
I snorted. “The fact that you’re going through all this to get another taste says otherwise, Mr. Wannabe President.”
“I didn’t have to make you my Fawn to get a taste of your pussy. I got that in Calira.”
“After you declared I was yours and stole me from a true gentleman.”
Okay, calling Cory a gentleman was a stretch, but oh well.
Cory was one of Brooks’s triggers. I planned to use it at every opportunity.
All humor disappeared from his face as he lowered his hand.
“You have never and will never want a gentleman, Daphne.”
I leaned back on my palms. “Then what do I want, Mr. Nostradamus?”
“Me.” Not a second of hesitation. Not a second of doubt.
“I believe, just like Nostradamus, your prophecy is incorrect. Get some new crystal balls.”
“The balls I have are just fine.”
I glanced to where I’d punched only minutes ago. “They’re actually a little uneven.”
A laugh nearly escaped me, but I swallowed it down.
Us joking about the symmetry of his balls while I was being illegally held in the White House was wild.
Brooks took a step toward me.
I scooted backward on the bed.
He took another. I scooted again.
He grabbed my ankle and dragged me back toward the edge of the mattress. Before I could kick him away, he stepped between my legs and hitched his hips forward.
A sharp moan betrayed me at the feel of his hard length pressed between my thighs.
“Maybe later, I’ll make you suck on these uneven balls.” He said it with enough confidence to suggest he actually thought that was hot.
“Ew.” I scrunched up my face. “That dirty talk isn’t turning me on whatsoever.”
He rammed his hips forward again. “What does turn you on then?”
I tapped the side of my mouth. “Men who aren’t red flags.”
“I’m not a red flag.”
A laugh burst out of me. “You’re nothing but red flags.”
I wiggled my ass backward, trying to create some distance between us, but his hands clamped around my knees to stop my escape.
“You don’t think you have a few yourself?” His fingers tightened.
I scoffed. “I don’t have one red flag, thank you very much.”
“Your father in prison for trying to kill mine isn’t a red flag?”
“Might be one of his, but it’s not mine.”
“Your smart mouth?”
“Nope. I consider that a great personality trait.”
He rubbed a hand over his abused crotch. “You just hit me in the balls.”
“You kept me hostage in a fucking suitcase.” I gave him a there look.
He dragged his tongue over the inside of his cheek. “You drive me fucking crazy.”
“Samesies.”
“Admit it, Princess.” He slowly stroked the inside of my knees. “We’re both red flags.”
I tried peeling his hands off me, but Brooks being Brooks, he took that as an invitation to touch me more. He freed one hand from my knee and slid it around my waist.
One hard tug had me right back against him.
“You’re going to enjoy every red flag I have, Princess.” He pressed his fingers into my hips. “By the time I’m done with you, red will be your favorite color.”
“I prefer pink, thank you.”
Before I could scoot away, his palm flattened against my chest and pushed me onto my back.
“You prefer whatever I am.”
“Another ew to that ego.”
He climbed onto the mattress, cutting me off, and settled his knees on either side of my thighs. He grabbed my wrists and pinned them over my head.
I huffed up at him.
He looked way too pleased with himself.
“Admit it,” he continued while my breathing became embarrassingly uneven. “You didn’t come to Saint Vale for an education. You don’t need that in Calira. You didn’t come here to find a job in the future. That’ll never happen here.” His mouth lowered to mine. “You came there for me.”
I turned my head toward the wall.
That was easier than looking at him while my brain started listing all the reasons he was right.
I didn’t need Saint Vale.
Hell, Saint Vale didn’t even want me.
Most students avoided me. Administrators only tolerated me because my family was royalty. They all still hated me for what my father had done.
I could’ve gone anywhere.
Could’ve stayed in Calira.
But I went to SVU.
Brooks caught my face between his fingers and turned me back to him.
Something in him had gone still.
No teasing. No filthy comeback.
Serious Brooks had entered the chat.
“You are to stay in this room unless you want the Secret Service to arrest you.”
I rolled my eyes. “Way to ruin the moment.”
He gave my chin a smug little flick before sliding off the bed.
I sat up. “What am I supposed to do? You didn’t let me bring my phone.”
He walked backward toward the door. “Suffer in boredom. Think about all the ways you’ve wronged me in this life.”
At the door, he straightened his bow tie and rolled his shoulders back.
He cracked the door open. “Then think about all the ways you want to please me as your Son. As a matter of fact, there’s a notebook and pen in the nightstand. Make a list, and I’ll collect it upon my return.”
“I can already tell you what’ll be number one—”
The door shut.
Jerk face.
I hopped off the bed and rushed after him, grabbing the handle.
Unlocked.
I opened the door barely an inch and pressed my face into the gap.
Brooks was already halfway down the hallway, walking beside a Secret Service agent like he hadn’t smuggled a woman into the White House in a suitcase.
I eased the door shut before either of them could turn around.
I was illegally hiding inside the White House without a phone, an escape plan, or anyone knowing I was here.
What can possibly go wrong?