Prisoned: A Dark Twisted Erotic Standalone Read Free Page A

twenty-sixth floor. The elevator is just to the right, around the bank of boardwalk-themed slots. If you left your luggage with the bellboy, it will be delivered to your room.”
    I pointed at the small suitcase by my feet. “I’ve got it right here.”
    “Do you have any questions, Ms. Lang?”
    “No, I’m fine.”
    That wasn’t the truth. The feeling inside me was far from fine. But having her tell me where the ice machine was wouldn’t make me feel better.
    My feet moved on autopilot as I pulled my suitcase around the slots, into the elevator, and down the hall of my floor. Once I was inside my room, I dropped the suitcase by the door and rushed over to the windows. At some point, I would hopefully appreciate the suite I had spent a fortune on, but right now, I needed to see the view.
    The window was thick glass, rimmed with black metal bars, like the ones that had been in our apartment in The Heart. There was a cloudy buildup in the corners from the sea salt, similar to my windows in Florida. The beach sat right below, the water extending as far as I could see. The sand wasn’t like the beaches I went to now. I remembered it being grainy and coarse, mixed with small pebbles and shells, especially sharp after high tide.
    Even the sand was harsh in Atlantic City.
    The three of us—me, Billy, and Garin—would spend our summer days at that beach below. After months of cold and shivering, the sun had felt so good on my skin. Those were the only months my body didn’t shake. There was barely enough meat on me to keep me healthy and definitely not enough to keep me warm.
    My phone rang from inside my purse. I kept my eyes on the ocean as I reached for it, trying to shake the memories away. “Hello?”
    “Have you checked in?” Anthony asked.
    “Yes.”
    I’d told him not to worry about picking me up from the airport. I didn’t want to have to talk during the ride to the hotel. I just wanted a second alone with my thoughts. Anthony wouldn’t have given me that. It would have been order after order, and I didn’t want to hear it.
    “I’m on my way,” he said. “We’ll get something to eat and then go to the funeral. I figured we could hit up the diner. I know you liked that place, so—”
    “No diner.”
    That was where I’d always gone with the guys. I didn’t need to open those memories, too.
    “Then, we’ll eat at your hotel.”
    “Fine.”
    “I’ll see you in the lobby in twenty.”
    “Anthony, wait.” I hadn’t thought of it when I talked to him a few days ago. But now that I was here and the service was in a few hours, I had to know. “You’re coming with me? To the funeral?”
    There was silence on the other end of the phone. Maybe I shouldn’t have asked. Maybe I should have just let it play out, like the rest of today would.
    “Yes.” His tone was so sharp. “Meet me downstairs in twenty.”
    The phone then went dead.
    I wished the window had a frame or a sill, so I had something to hold on to. Just a small ledge, wide enough for my fingers, so I could grip it tightly. So I could squeeze. Something that could bear my weight. Because, suddenly, everything felt so heavy. So thick. So foggy. Even more than when I’d stepped off the plane. Heavier than when I’d walked into the suite. Heavier than before I’d answered the phone.
    But there was nothing to grip. Nothing to hold me. Only a warm pane of glass and a full view of my ugly past. So, I tilted forward and rested my head against it, hoping it would keep me from falling.

    I checked my suitcase to see what I had packed. I didn’t remember throwing in clothes or shoes or cosmetics. It had been another autopilot moment, my brain in a much different place than my body. But as I dug around, I found everything I needed. I pulled out a pair of black pants and felt myself putting them on. My arms slipped through the holes of a black tank top and then through the sleeves of a matching blazer. I placed a long necklace over my head,