41. Chapter 41
Rosalina
It could have been a day or a week later when the desperate need finally ebbed, and the sex-fueled haze lifted.
I’d lost all sense of time in the windowless room that was Oliver’s nest. However long it had been, there was no one here now, and the door to the hall was ajar.
I threw on someone’s sweats from the floor and shrugged into a zip hoodie from the arm of the overstuffed chair.
The waistband of the pants sagged over my ass, so I rolled it up a few times to get them to stay in place.
They didn’t fit, per se, but at least I was relatively decent.
The air was still and silent. I waited, holding my breath for any sound.
Nothing came, not a footstep or a shuffle, no sign of life at all, so I eased the door open, peeking both ways down the hall.
Why would they have left me alone in their house?
After what we’d just been through, my feelings might have softened a little, but they were still my enemies. Escape was still the priority.
Right?
Yes! It was!
My stupid omega brain was making that option seem less and less desirable. Nico with his bossy orders, Cruz’s protective streak, and Ollie, the caretaker, with his sweet dimples. Why couldn’t they have tortured me already? Then I could at least pretend to hate them still.
Stay here with men that made my blood sing, or go back to a life coated in it.
Not only that, but as soon as I was back, I’d be forced into a marriage that I detested.
To a man who didn’t blink when raising his hand against me.
Instead of the strong hands that protected me and took care of my every need.
Unfortunately, there were more important things than my preference in marital partners. They were holding me captive against my will, and in the end, they planned to do me harm. Just because they saw me through my heat didn’t mean that had changed… did it?
Plus, you don’t just kidnap people willy-nilly. Well, sane, non-criminal people didn’t, anyway.
They couldn’t be trusted.
My bare feet were silent as I stepped off the plush carpet onto the mellow hardwood in the hall.
Golden light streamed through the empty living room windows, gilding everything in a rosy pink.
This place was too pretty for its own good.
On a normal day, I might take the time to bask in the comfortable warmth.
But not today. Today I would free myself.
I tip-toed to the front door and tested the handle. It was still locked, no surprise there, but I had hope. This place wasn’t a fortress. Something had to give.
As I passed the stairs, the urge to snoop was a tempting tug in the back of my mind, but my hunger was stronger, so I headed toward the kitchen first, checking the windows on my way. Much as I expected, they didn’t so much as rattle when I tested them.
The Bentley and a familiar matte black sports car were parked out front, but their owners were nowhere to be seen, and I couldn’t shake the feeling that this was some sort of trap. This whole fucked up situation made me paranoid.
A pink sticky note on the microwave with my name on it distracted me from my search. No one popped up to scold me for trying to escape again, so I tugged open the microwave, bracing for an explosion or a jump scare at least, but all that was inside was a covered plate.
Everything in this house smelled delicious, but this smelled like food, not sex, and I was starving.
Under the plastic cover was a plate with a napkin-wrapped BLT.
It wasn’t breakfast, but it would do. French toast would have been better, but I was too ravenous to care.
Admittedly, that would’ve been soggy sitting in a microwave, and Ollie would have been thoughtful enough to make something that would keep.
I was just grateful he’d left me food before abandoning me.
There were no dishes in the sink. All the pots and pans had been put away.
They must have a good housekeeper because the place was pristine.
Like photo-ready for the cover of some interior design magazine or something.
Not that the state of their kitchen mattered, but for a bunch of bachelors, I was impressed.
First, I’d eat; then I was getting out of here. If I hadn’t been saved by now, I was going to have to do it myself.
I took a bite of the sandwich while scanning for any sort of phone. No landlines or even phone jacks. They must just use their cells. The windows and French doors were locked or didn’t open at all. Nothing useful on the ground floor, so far.
Back on the hunt, I scrambled up the stairs with my mostly eaten BLT. I doubted I’d find anything, but they could have a stash of burner phones squirreled away or something.
The stairs came to a T at the top with a loft room and a hallway leading in either direction.
I finished the last crumbs of the sandwich as I explored deeper into the house.
The scent of amber and bourbon was thick in the halls, but all the doors were locked with their stupid electronic locks.
I jiggled every handle I came across, but no dice, so I went back to the loft at the top of the stairs.
The whole room was color-drenched in navy with soft, brown leather sofas and a big ass TV.
The scent of the alphas clung to everything in here, which I was doing my best to ignore.
The mythical phones I was looking for were nowhere to be found, but on the other side of the carpeted room was a picture window filling the far wall.
From this vantage, I might be able to get a better idea of where I was. Maybe I could flag down a neighbor or locate a road where I could hitch a ride.
I hurried across the floor and peered out the window.
The view was of the back of the house, where a huge pool glittered like sapphires.
Shirtless and sweaty, Oliver and Cruz were making their way away from the house, following a stone pathway on the other side of the pool.
I crouched down behind the windowsill. Shit, they were gonna catch me snooping.
Where was Nico, though? I scanned the surrounding garden and leaned closer to the glass, peeking over the ledge.
There he was, sitting by the pool with no shirt on, his tattoos gleaming across his golden skin with dark menace, cleaning a gun, staring directly at me. I jolted back when his eyes locked onto mine.
My hand slammed over my mouth to stifle the shocked squeal.
So much for stealth, I guess. He didn’t look pleased to have me wandering around their house unsupervised.
Or maybe that was just his resting bitch face.
I hurried back down the steps and plastered a sweet smile on my lips just as the French doors opened and Nico stepped in.
“Rosa,” he said, his eyes scouring me with suspicion.
I clasped my hands in front of myself, trying for my best impression of innocence. “Nico.”
He probably wasn’t buying this innocent act, but I needed him to leave me alone in here for a little longer.
There had to be a way out of this place.
I doubted my chances of being able to hot-wire a car, especially with how new the ones in the driveway looked, but if I could get outside unsupervised, maybe there was a chance.
“You’re up to something.” His eyes narrowed on me.
My shoulders went up in a shrug. “Maybe.”