Page 87 of Manic

All my words did was remind me that I truly had nowhere else to go. Unless I counted my flat, in which I’d resume my life and go to bed at eight o’clock with a book. Or prepared for my classes. Studying. My drive to intern at my father’s casino dissipated the moment I’d been taken by the mafia, but the need to leave this place still soared.

“And where would I go?” I added, averting my eyes as shame overtook me. I leaned against the wall, afraid I’d collapse as my legs felt like jello. He hooked his finger beneath my chin, forcing my eyes on him.

“Why didn’t you run?” His voice dipped. “Axell wasn’t here, but you already knew that, didn’t you?”

“I was hungry and wanted coffee.” I shrugged, now fully aware that he’d seen those texts.

“You should have woken me up when he called.”

“You were tired, so I let you sleep. Is that so bad?” I questioned, though a smirk tugged at my lips. “You snore, by the way.”

He scoffed. “I do not.”

I laughed, and his face actually warmed with what appeared to be embarrassment. “If you say so. Big mafia heir snores in his sleep. It was cute.”

I yelped when he yanked me to his chest until our bodies smashed together once more.

“I am not⁠—”

His voice cut as a throat cleared in the kitchen—near the elevator. Oh, shit. We were so lost in our conversation, we’d completely missed the chiming alert of the doors opening.

Manic tensed before spinning around, effectively blocking me from anyone’s field of vision. His hands held me behind him, and my stomach sank, as I was fully aware of how fast his mood had plummeted. The muscles in his back bunched as his spine went rigid, the air turning cold.

“What the fuck do you want?” Manic hissed. “Do you want to be shot in the face?”

I craned my neck to peer around him, catching Axell’s shocked expression. His mouth dropped open, and he awkwardly rubbed the back of his neck.

“Sorry, I⁠—”

“Why are you still looking?” Manic growled, and Axell spun around to stare at the wall.

I tugged on Manic’s elbow. “Don’t kill him. I’ll go change⁠—”

Manic quickly faced me, his expression still filled with blatant rage, but it smoothed out the second his eyes settled on me. My breath caught as he backed me toward the wall. Then he leaned over and after a faint buzzing scan of his thumb on the lock, opened his door. Cool, bedroom air hit the back of my legs.

He ushered me in until I was effectively out of sight.

“Shower and get dressed,” he demanded beneath his breath, so quietly I strained to hear.

“In your room?” I balked, unable to hide the waver in my voice. “With what clothes, exactly?”

“Preferably nothing,” he teased. When I didn’t respond, he sighed and ran his hand through his hair again. “I’ll grab something from your room. As much as it pleases me that you have my cum dripping down your thighs, I’m not about to let you walk around in only a shirt with my security in the room.”

“It’s just Axell,” I volleyed. “It’s not like he hasn’t seen me in night clothes before.”

The morning Axell had plopped the casino paperwork on the kitchen island entered my mind, though I remember him pointedly ignoring me—hardly meeting my gaze.

Manic tensed his jaw. “You’re going to regret telling me that.”

My stomach dropped, fearing he’d punish Axell for it.

But before I could defend the one security I actually liked in my makeshift prison, Manic exited the room. I blinked and stared at his door like it had personally insulted me.

Quickly burying my shock, I turned my gaze to the bedroom, sweeping across every modern piece of furniture and every beam of sunlight as they spilled through the long black curtains.

A large bed was centered on the back wall, accompanied with matching dark-wood nightstands. A sitting area rested beside the floor to ceiling windows, a small table between the chairs displaying a chess board. The other wall held what appeared to be his bathroom.

The thought unfurling behind my eyes felt like a betrayal after what we just did, but I was in Manic’s penthouse suite, and my phone was somewhere in this room.