You Didn't Mean It
**ROMANY**
Waking up in a circular bed surrounded by four of the most devastatingly handsome men in all creation should have been weird. It should have made me feel like a slut, or a bimbo. Like a tramp that has *zero* respect for herself. Or a naive little girl that falls for grown men and their lies. Opening my eyes to the sight of a sex swing in the corner, and a selection of vibrators on the shelf should have made me feel dirty... or cheap... or *busted...* But, it doesn't.
Why?
Because for one, I've changed so remarkably in the past month and a half that I am starting to question if I ever really was* that girl that Ruby thought me to be at all.
And two... because as I stretch out and smile, I take a gander around and realize... I'm completely alone.
*What the fuck?*
*Where the hell are my men?*
"Alex?" I call out, sitting up with a start and dragging the white fur coverlet up with me. "Alex??"
My heart starts pumping erratically, a sense of foreboding taking me hostage as I realize today will be the day.
Tonight at midnight, I'm leaving.
*And just where in the fuck is my phone?*
*Oh my God!* *No!*
As I leap from the bed, I wince with pain, but ignore my immediate soreness in the interest of saving my sorry little ass. Holy crap, if they find my phone and look through it... they might try to keep me here. Or worse... they might see it as betrayal.
*Shit!*
out of the playroom to head straight for Alex's bedroom. All is quiet in the halls
Alex's hallway like this in the middle
how long
find it locked and I nearly
*Should I knock?*
mean... is he even
never known him to lock me
*Not ever.*
it
*Unless...*
down the hall toward the living room, crying out as I go, "Alex? Where are
room to find him there alone, shirtless, and drowning in a bottle of his favorite vice.
sitting on the sofa with his back to me, twirling the half empty bottle along the top of his wool clad kneecap, though I doubt that he is drunk, the tense set of his shoulders tells me he might just be angry. The moment I step into the room, he stills, glaring at me through the reflection of the powered-down flat screen along the far
freezing directly behind his head and watching his shoulders flex with
uncapping his drink to pour a healthy amount into his mouth. "Which question would
the word '*angel'* trickles up my spine and my back straightens, my cheeks heating with apprehension
*He found my phone.*
*He read my messages.*
*He looks pissed.*
eyes go for the door, my feet following when I
letting him spoil everything
go find out where
out into the hall and ignoring him completely. "They're gone,"
I slam the door behind me with enough force to set his teeth and then I scowl at him, ignoring the fact that I can see his
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