Chapter Ninety-Eight

💕Author's Note: Hey, gorgeous! Read ahead (over 100 chapters) by becoming a patron at www.EmendedHearts.com/join

💗💗💗

My heart won't stop pounding.

My hands won't stop shaking.

My palms won't stop sweating.

For the first time in my life, I'm truly, genuinely at a complete loss for words.

I'm confused as hell.

I'm beyond stunned.

I'm...pretty sure I'm going out of my fucking mind.

Oh, my God...Wh...Wh...What the hell just happened?

My eyes are glued to the back of the man responsible for my current state, closely watching his every move with a heightened sense of fear and amazement.

Frost steps out of the elevator, his demeanor contained and collected once more, as if nothing had happened.

As if he didn't just knee my vagina.

I swear this guy must have multiple personality disorder...or be an absolute freak of nature...and science...and the Catholic Church. There has to be some explanation! I mean, how the hell can he be so unhinged and ruthless one minute and eerily calm the next?

He looks over his shoulder. His cold, intrusive eyes meet mine again. He doesn't even have to say a word. I know by now he's not too keen on repeating himself, and besides, I heard him clearly the first time.

Follow me.

My lungs strain themselves with each shuddering breath I take. After another moment of hesitation, I push myself off the elevator wall reluctantly and follow him on wobbly, unpredictable legs, inhaling sharply as I clutch at my chest.

My steps are slow with apprehension, partially because I'm kind of freaking out about what's about to happen.

Okay, I'm really freaking out! And it doesn't help that my bladder is two seconds away from exploding inside my body.

I stare at his back warily, trying to calm my erratic heart before it breaks through my ribcage. Each step becomes more uncomfortable than the last, each slight motion bringing with it the threat of an unintended golden shower.

God, I can't even imagine what I'd do if that happened.

Don't think about it. Just keep moving.

We bypass another corridor full of displays and antiques, but this floor is a lot more contemporary with shaved glass, polished metal rings and top-notch, electronic household equipment.

I literally cross my fingers, hoping to God he'll let me go to a bathroom soon. I try to breathe slowly, hoping it will calm my inflamed bladder and ease my panicking brain.

It doesn't work.

We come to the end of the corridor and it expands into some sort of open-concept area. It's as spacious as a frickin' San Francisco art gallery and designed like some sort of cleaning facility-factory hybrid. This must be the 'hygiene station' he was referring to earlier.

It's insane. It's outlandish. It's...different.

Very different.

I've never seen anything quite like it and I'm not sure how I feel about it. They say you can tell a lot about a person from what the inside of their home looks like. I wonder what all this says about him. I'm not even sure I want to know, but something tells me I'll be finding out at some point during my "stay" here.

He turns to face me again, his expression neutral. We're back to square one again. Then again, maybe that's a good thing.

He points to one of the wide, boxy sinks; each equipped with a motion-sensored faucet, an automated soap dispenser, and a hand dryer with supreme infra-red and turbine technology—at least, that's what its company's logo claims.

"Wash your hands," he says.

It's not a request.

I look between him and my designated sink for a moment. My increasing uncertainty only encourages my hesitation to do what he says—or anything else, for that matter. But I'm sure it only looks like I'm stalling to him.

He comes closer, closing the distance between us again. And I respond by moving away from him again. Unfortunately for me, I don't exactly have a lot of room to work with.

He backs me to the edge of the sink. Its blunt corner jabs me in my lower back as I try to lean away from him.

My spine goes rigid.

My shoulders grow stiff.

I feel the heat radiating from his body on my skin.

His muscled body towers over mine, imposing and unapologetic, making me feel like a damn fruit fly.

Oh my God, not this again. Please, not this again.

My bladder really can't take another round of being subjected to the perils of this man's knee. But even so, I swallow hard and grit my teeth in an effort to brace myself for what I know is coming next.

I wait in silence for the very distinct, toe-curling sensation of his fingers around my neck. Strangely enough, I both dread and welcome the firm feel of them on my skin.

Instead, he lowers his head so that we're eye to eye. His nose and lips are barely an inch away from mine. "Do it, or I'll wash your hands for you," he says, his gaze menacing. Promising. Just like his words. "And I get the feeling you won't like that very much."

💕Author's Note: Hey again, gorgeous! We'll post one chapter every Friday, but there are currently over 140 chapters, so this may take a while. If you just can't wait, you can read ahead by becoming a patron at www.EmendedHearts.com/join

XOXO 😘

Eme and the hearts @EmendedHearts 💕