"Shhh... take it like the good girl you are."
"I'm a good girl?" I whispered.
He gazed up at me, eyes glowing in amusement. "Do you want me to prove it to you?"
My eyes glistened with his reflection.
"I can prove it to you," he answered, "but I'll...
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Riley
"Where are we?" I questioned as Paris closed the door behind me.
It was some kind of house... it was like an apartment—it had two bedrooms and a bathroom in each chamber, a large living space with a giant L-shaped sofa, and a kitchen that rested on our right—but it was really fancy and... big.
"Where are we?" I repeated again as I turned to him.
He was smiling, leaning lazily against the door while he continued eye-fucking me. "We're on Earth."
"Duh," I responded harshly. "But what is this place?"
"It's new to you, huh?" he commented. "I've lived here for many years. It's a loft, Riley."
I gazed at him. "You're seventeen, how can you have a loft all to yourself?"
He pushed himself off the wall and stepped over to the kitchen. "A lot of my guards are adults," he explained, snatching a water bottle from the fridge and looking up to me with a smile. "And I'm twenty, Sweetheart. You don't assume someone's age, you know. I can pay for anything because I'm an adult, and I'm a billionaire."
"But I thought you went to my high school," I said.
He chuckled. "You know how easy it is to make fake backgrounds? I told them I was turning eighteen on Tuesday, I look that age too."
"But you're... twenty?"
He nodded.
"So... you're an adult? That means you can give...."
He raised his brows.
I shook my head. "Never mind."
"No—no—no," he smiled, "what were you going to say?"
"Don't push me," I growled.
His lashes lowered. "What did I say about that tone?"
I stared at the floor. "Sorry."
"I don't like apologies either, stop that."
"Then what do you want me to say?" I countered.
"I want you to watch your tone," he stated. "Or I will punish you again, hear me?"
I nodded numbly.
"Good," he stated. "You're a good listener, aren't you?"
I nodded again.
"Good," he said again, smiling.
"Paris...?" I whispered.
"Yes?"
"Are you a good person?"
"Yes."
"Are you sure?" I whispered.
He nodded.
"Paris... who are you? What are you thinking? I can't read you... ever. It bothers me. I want to know what you're thinking."
He shook his head in amusement and gazed back up at me. "Your curiosity is entertaining, you know that?" And he downed half the bottle of water in one go, setting it on the counter seconds later.
"Paris," I urged, "who do you think the killer is? You told me before you have a suspicion."
He looked at the floor for a moment. "That's just it, it's a suspicion. I don't know if I'm right, therefore I will not tell you."
I sighed in defeat. "How did you get ahold of things at Bella's crime scene? How did you know I was drowning in the ocean?"
He didn't hesitate responding, "I got ahold of Bella's jacket because I have a friend in the police department. And I knew you were in danger because I sensed it, and when I went up to your bedroom, you were gone. But when I looked out the window, you were over some guy's shoulder."
"Whose?"
He shrugged. "He wore black clothes, but I do know he has some kind of build. I'm really glad I was able to get to you in time, though." He leaned on the counter. "I was almost too late."
The slight shade to his eyes told me he was being honest, and I wondered how often he'd been saving me without me knowing.
It seemed like he was beating himself up inside.
He smiled then. "Are you blushing?"
I shook my head, covering my cheeks. "No."
"Liars have to be taught lessons, too, you know."
My cheeks reddened more.
"Go on," Paris urged, nodding to a bedroom on the far right of the wall, "make yourself at home."
I nodded numbly, stepping up to the bedroom and flipping on the lights.
I gasped.
It was so pretty; the white walls and the bleached white carpet, and the bed sheets were a silky black, the throw pillows also covered in black and white swirls and designs, and the nightstand—as well as the dressers and doors—were painted a coal black.
It felt like I was in one of those luxury hotels.
I would have no problem settling into this. This was so beautiful; I felt the urge to vacuum and make the sheets every chance I could; just to make it stay pretty.
So I walked in the room, dropping my backpack on the ground and collapsed on the bed, belly down.
Maybe I would take a nap before me and Paris went out for dinner.
AUTHORS POV: Ello friends! Guess whaaaat? Minor smut next chapter! Beware!
