OWN HER: A Dark Mafia Romance(90)

The door across the hall revealed a bathroom as big as my bedroom, and I took the opportunity to finally get some self-coverage. In a moment of what I considered brilliant scheming, I turned on the shower, gratefully unfettered my feet from the evil stilettos, and slipped in. I quickly rinsed my body and hair, luxuriating for a few moments in the hot water, but forced myself to turn it off and keep to my plan. I grabbed a fluffy white bath towel and wrapped myself in it. Another to towel-dry my hair, and ta-da—the shower would justify the towel cover-up, and I felt a whole lot better about wandering around naked. The towel was way better than nothing.



Continuing my explorations with stiletto straps in hand, the next door down the hall revealed another bedroom, also occupied, this time by two men. The fourth door was just a linen closet; the fifth, another bedroom. This one was not occupied and held the basics you’d expect in a guest room. I skittled inside, shut the door quietly behind me, and hurriedly poked into the huge wardrobe, which featured a large flat-screen and some assorted technology, in addition to spaces for hanging and folded clothes. There were also a few interior drawers, hiding nothing of much interest. Giving up on the wardrobe, I turned to the desk under a window. It featured only one slim central drawer, hiding pens and paperclips and your typical desk refuse. Another dud room.



Moving on, I cracked open the door to scan the hallway for bodies and saw no one. I made it to the next room in line: another bedroom. Jeez, they were all copies of one another. I was getting the gist of the decorating genius behind this house. Rich and uninspired. Central bed, bare-bones bedside tables, and lamps. Central large wardrobe, each featuring the flat-screen and miscellaneous tech. This room had no desk but offered a low chest of drawers in its place.



One drawer offered an assortment of dildos and sex toys of the sort Christian Grey might approve. I fumbled through the stuff, not really wanting to touch it, not having known where the stuff had been, but knowing that I must be thorough in my search if I intended to find anything useful. This drawer was the most incriminating thing I’d found so far; I’d have been derelict had I shut it without a thorough search. But I did feel weird searching somebody else’s sex drawer. It was a little distasteful. My face was probably a bit scrunched up as I looked.



Ultimately, though, the search came up empty for evidence against Mr. F. I wished I’d had my phone with me to take a few pictures but was doubtful that any such images would aid the cause. I’d have to have a whole string of pictures tying the contents of the drawer to the desk, to the room, to the hallway, to the stairs, to the foyer, to the house… And my ability to produce such a string tonight seemed unlikely at best.



I was starting to breathe faster, anxious that either I would be missed by Mr. F and he’d come searching for me, or that people from the party below would come in, looking for an available shag room. I had probably already been upstairs for a good fifteen minutes, at least. Possibly longer. I needed to speed up my search. I was praying for pay dirt, ASAP.



I moved along and found the next door led to another full bathroom. The last door on this left side of the stairs was another guest room, occupied by two men and another one of my fellow dancers. I don’t think she noticed me; her mouth and vag were probably all she could focus on, filled as they were with the men’s dicks. But the guy with his cock in her mouth had a clear view of me as I cracked open the door. He grinned. “Fuck yes. Join the party, bitch.”



“Um, no, thanks.” I tried to see if I could catch the girl’s eyes, to see if she needed saving, but they were closed and didn’t open when I spoke, so I figured if she had wanted help she’d have signaled me somehow. She didn’t. I speedily backed up, closed the door, and moved along to the other side of the staircase.



The next few rooms followed suit: another bedroom, another large bathroom—



Fuck. This one was occupied by none other than Mr. F himself, standing in front of an open drawer in the wardrobe, looking like he’d been poking through it for some specific item. The last of my fellow dancers was tied to the bed in a big X. She was naked, blindfolded, and gagged, and it was really hard to read any expression on her face. In fact, it was pretty much impossible. The lights in the room were on full force; clearly, Mr. F liked watching whatever it was he had going on. He himself was still fully dressed, although he had opened his bow tie and popped the top few buttons on his shirt.



But when he looked up at the door at my entry, his focus switched entirely to me. “Aha. There you are. Come in. Don’t be shy. Come in, Sienna. You’re just what I wanted. Perfect timing.” His nostrils flared.