Ransom

•• Chapter 32 ••

Emmett stands by his window in his room, slipping off his shirt and flinging it behind him onto the carpet without turning around. I see his neck and shoulders are extremely tense, as he faces Knight Inc, in deep thought.

I glance over toward his violin case, sitting on a simple stand, but I doubt Emmett wants to play to calm down about my trip to Edgar's apartment.

"Ransom," I call his name lightly, as I walk toward the bathroom, "I'm going to wash my hands."

I see Emmett visibly tense even further as I slide right past him without a care into his bathroom, and I wash my hands under the sink. I pat them dry in a towel and go back out to find Ransom...

Promptly gone.

He's not here anymore.

I look toward his bedroom door and it's now closed.

Hmmm.

Okay?

I sit on the bed and I wait for him to re-enter with a weapon of choice. Maybe a leash. Maybe a gag. Maybe rope.

After ten or so minutes pass, I'm convinced he isn't coming back at all.

Eventually, I check the door and it's locked specifically from the outside so I can't leave to check the rest of the penthouse. I huff out a breath and turn around when -

I hear a distinct voice.

At first it's just a tone, but then it's coming up the stairs, getting closer and more obvious.

A lethal conversation.

A nightmare.

"This is going to cost you," Edgar speaks.

"Yeah well I need to fucking learn for her, I'll admit that," Emmett growls back, some kind of respectful defeatist answer.

I'm stumbling back from the door and I'm doing so with absolute terror in each step as I turn to face the bed - I don't know what they want but I don't want any part of this!

Ok.

Sleep!

I run and dive head first onto the bed, I haphazardly throw one coverlet half over my body and I lay my head across a pillow, laying out my arms - I promptly suck in a large breath and force myself to exhale slowly when the door flicks open.

Swinging inward, I hear the murmurs between the two promptly cease as they witness my very real and actual sleeping form.

"Cheryl." It's Edgar. He speaks plainly and I do not move, I also hold my b -, "You stopped breathing," Edgar drawls, delighted by my fear, "So stop pretending, sweetheart."

I smack one hand on the sheets and turn to glare in defiance - preparing to cause an almighty fit. What could I burn, or throw - maybe I could convince them to fight with each other rather than -

Oh, god, my eyes.

There are three very rich and shirtless men in my door way.

Emmett, Edgar and Slade ripping off his top last of all, grinning as his long blonde hair lies across his fake tanned skin. Dear Eme is looking diabolical - pale and diabolical. Sweet Edgar is absolutely fucking massive, he works out too much - and his muscles are causing a glare like the sun, making my eyes water as I forget how to blink, instead my eyelids retract into my skin.

"I - mmmmmmm," I fail to find my tongue next as I sit up abruptly and my face goes as red, and redder, and I blurt out, straight to Edgar's face, "Nope, thank you."