I scanned the cars until I spotted Caiden’s. Thanks to my observational skills and my social media stalking, it was easy to tell which was his. The low-slung, matte-black Audi R8 Spyder was parked up off to the side of the house, away from the entrance. Perfect.
I inched closer and closer and withdrew the can of spray paint from my hoodie pocket with shaking hands. Clutching the can in my left hand, I reached out with my right and ran it over the smooth paintwork. The cycle here had sobered me up a lot, but not enough to back down. When I thought about how Caiden had acted towards me, I hardened my resolve. I was truly sorry to deface such a beautiful car, but Caiden needed to learn I wouldn’t take his shit lying down.
Pulling the lid off, I shook the can in my hand and directed the nozzle at the side of the R8, sending the jet of bright pink paint straight onto the door. Working quickly, I moved the can, spelling out the letters K-I-N-G, then taking a step backwards to admire my handiwork before starting on the second word.
I crashed straight into a body and froze, my heart hammering in my chest.
The can of paint fell from my hand, clattering against the stones that littered the surface of the driveway.
“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” a low, furious voice hissed in my ear, and strong arms came around me, pinning my arms down so I was helpless to move away. It would have been pointless to try. He was huge, and I was no match for him physically.
Shit.
“I-I went out for a bike ride.”
He laughed darkly. “At least attempt to make your story believable, Snowflake.” Pushing me forwards, using his body weight to make me move, he spoke in my ear again, his proximity and hostile tone sending my body into high alert. “You’re coming with me.”
We walked the short distance to the house—or more accurately, I stumbled along unwillingly, Caiden moving me where he wanted me to go. Inside, he spoke in a clipped tone.
“Upstairs. First room on the right.”
My legs carried me up the stairs, and I hesitated at the top.
“Go.” He pushed me, and I fell forwards through the open door, catching myself before I could tumble to the ground and turning around to glare at him.
“Stop throwing your weight around, you fucking asshole.”
“What did you call me?” He was suddenly all up in my face, his nostrils flaring and his eyes darkening as our angry breaths mingled.
“Fucking. Ass. Hole.” I drew out the words slowly, exaggeratedly, leaning into him, my mouth so close to his that our lips were almost touching.
“You’re going to pay for that.” His angry tone turned into a whispered promise, low and deadly, as his hands reached around me, holding my arms in place. I struggled against him fruitlessly. He was far too strong.
Time to try another tactic.
I went limp, letting my body sag into his. Unprepared, he rocked backwards, his grip loosening. I took the chance to bring my knee up, smashing it straight into his groin.
He gasped, dropping me altogether, falling backwards and clutching himself.
“You bitch,” he wheezed out. He recovered much more quickly than I anticipated, and I panicked at the murderous intent in his eyes, blindly racing for a door on the other side of the room, my heart hammering out of my chest.
There was no point in running—he was much too fast. He threw himself at my back, sending us both tumbling to the floor, rolling over until I was pinned underneath him, my breath coming in short pants. I bucked my body, trying to throw him off, but he slung his full body weight across me.
“I can’t breathe.” He was like a dead weight on top of me, his hands holding my arms in place, his legs entwined with mine. My forehead and nose hurt where I’d scraped my face across the carpet in our struggle, the burn making my eyes water.
“Good.”
“Caiden.” My voice was a hoarse whisper. “Can’t. Breathe.” I gasped, adrenaline and fear fizzing through my veins as I thrashed, trying to turn my head to the side to get more air into my lungs.
“I despise you, you know.” He let go of my arms suddenly and shifted his body, untangling our legs, enabling me to get some precious air into my lungs. I lay back, drained, trying to work out how I’d somehow gone from doing shots with my friend to lying under the person who hated me with a passion. I stared up at him, the expression on his gorgeous face full of loathing as he looked down at me.
My fear melted away as my traitorous body reacted to his proximity. Fuck. He was insanely sexy. All dark, brooding anger, his lethal body tensed and ready to strike at any moment, his muscular, tattooed arms either side of me, holding him effortlessly in place.
“Why do you hate me so much?” I whispered, finding it hard to catch my breath for a very different reason now.
He stared silently at me; then as if he’d become aware of my thoughts, he drew back, an expression of disgust on his face. “Don’t look at me like that again.”
“Like what?”
“Like you want me to fuck you.”
“Ugh, no thanks.” My voice held no conviction, and we both knew it.
He moved into a standing position in one smooth motion. “Get up.”
I sat up, and he indicated towards the huge bed to the side of me. “Sit there and do not move until I come back.” He strode from the room, slamming the door behind him, and I heard a loud click. Rushing to the door, I pulled at the handle, but it wouldn’t budge. The bastard had locked me in. Who the fuck has locks on internal doors, anyway? People with something to hide, that’s who.
I pounded on the door uselessly, until my knuckles were burning, before I finally admitted defeat. Crawling over to the bed, I pulled myself onto it and collapsed back against the soft dark grey covers. The throbbing from my sore head grew more intense, and I closed my eyes, tears leaking from the corners.
That was the last thing I remembered.
“She vandalised my fucking car!”
“Bitch!”
“You keyed hers.”
“Whose side are you on?”
“Why did you bring her in here?”
“What happened to her face?”
The voices fell silent, and I slowly blinked my eyes open to find four pairs of eyes staring down at me. They were all here.
Brilliant.
I moved into a seated position, supporting my back against the wooden headboard behind me. The dull thud of music I’d heard earlier had gone, the house quiet. I licked my dry lips and spoke, directing my question at no one in particular. “What’s going on?”
“You’re hurt.” Cassius sat on the edge of the bed, eyeing me with concern. “What happened to your face?”
“Someone thought it would be a great idea to tackle me to the floor, and I scraped my face along the carpet.”
“You shouldn’t have kneed me in the balls, should you?” Caiden shot me one of his hostile glares, and I looked away, unable to find the strength to go up against him right now. I was tired, in pain, and my friend tequila was no longer my friend. The throbbing headache it had left me with just added to the pain in my face, and I groaned.
Cassius grasped my chin gently, his fingers skimming over the carpet burns on my nose and head, and I hissed.
“Sorry. I’ll get something to help.” He stood and walked out of the room, while the other three remained standing, their poses mirroring each other—crossed arms and tense bodies.