My brows furrow and I pull back away from him. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”
“Prove your worth, Shayne, and maybe I won’t use you for target practice. After all, it would be a waste to have to break in another girl.”
Understanding dawns and I shake my head. “I won’t ever be like you.”
Roman laughs. “We’ll see.”
And just like that, he turns on his heel and starts moving toward the bathroom door. “WAIT,” I rush out, stepping into the glass as if to go after him. Roman stops in the doorway and looks back, his gaze dropping to the way my naked body presses up against the glass, perfectly framing it.
Impatience crosses his features as I gather up the nerve. “I’m not going back down to that dungeon. If you want me to stay and be chill about it, then I’m staying in that room upstairs. Otherwise I will bitch and moan every fucking chance I get.”
His eyes narrow and I slowly pull away from the glass as he walks back toward me. “Where the fuck do you get off making demands?”
A sick grin of my own crosses my lips and I raise my chin, letting him know how damn serious I am about this. “When I realized that you’re not the one pulling the strings.”
Something sinister flashes in his eyes, and if looks could kill, I’d already be dead. He stares at me for a moment too long, the silence filling the room just long enough to make me squirm under his stare, but I quickly realize that this right here is his comfort zone.
“You remain down in the cells,” he tells me, his tone filled with a deadly venom as the weight of my comment fills the air between us. “Be ready. We’re having a party tonight, and you’re our main attraction.”
Then with those harrowing words, he walks out of the bathroom and pulls the door shut behind him, leaving me with nothing but an endless array of sick and twisted thoughts streaming through my head, each one of them telling me that being the main attraction at a DeAngelis party is not something any girl wants to be.
14
Darkness takes over the castle as humiliation swirls deep inside my bones. I was given a freaking uniform for tonight which consisted of skimpy black lingerie, thigh-high heeled stiletto boots and a fucking thick choker to sit around my throat. If I was going to some kind of skanky Halloween party, then I would have fit the dress-code perfectly, but this is too much.
I thought that I could handle it, that I’d just have to show off my body to their fucked-up friends and bare my teeth every time someone tried to touch the merchandise. But when Marcus showed up in my doorway and led me to where the party would be held, I quickly learned that things are not always as they appear to be, not where the DeAngelis brothers are concerned.
I was distracted by Levi to the right of the room, sitting at an all-black drum set. He was banging on the drums so loud that each hit vibrated right through my chest. His eyes were closed and it was the first time that I ever saw him looking so at peace with himself. I couldn’t tear my eyes away, which is exactly how I missed Marcus leading me right into the center of the fully-stocked bar and scooping up a heavy chain. Then in the blink of an eye, he hooked it to the back of the choker around my neck and chained me to the fucking bar.
It’s been four hours and so far, the party is only just getting started. It’s packed with the kind of people anyone would expect the DeAngelis brothers to be friends with—fucking ratchet-ass, drug-induced, dirty motherfuckers who should have been locked away the day they were born … or swallowed.
This is not the place I want to be, especially in lingerie, boots that I can barely move in, oh yeah … AND CHAINED TO THE FUCKING BAR!
Bodies are everywhere and it doesn’t take me long to start recognizing faces from the ‘MOST WANTED’ news stories that are splashed all over the TV. Even some of the chicks around here look eerily similar to the ‘MISSING GIRL’ posters that appear on the back of the bathroom doors at the club, yet they don’t seem to be too upset over their ‘missing’ status.
My hands are sweaty and my knees haven’t stopped shaking. The DeAngelis brothers are the most dangerous in the room by far, but I like to think that I’ve developed some kind of a relationship with them—not a great one, but it’s more than I can say for the other people here.
When the brothers approach the bar for a drink, I know they’re coming to glare or make snide comments about how wonderful it is to see the fear their party has induced in my eyes, but when the other party-goers come up to me, I don’t know what to expect.