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His ass was too fucking rude. I knew I shouldn’t have cared anyway. I didn’t even want to be here for real, but if I was stuck in this house with him for however long, I wanted to know what the fuck I was dealing with.

We continued down the hallway until he finally stopped in front of a door. He opened it and stepped aside, allowing me to walk in first.

“This is where you’ll be sleeping.”

He flipped on the light, and my eyes widened as I looked around. The bedroom was big as hell.

Hell, this one room looked bigger than my little studio apartment. A king-size bed sat against the wall with a dark upholstered headboard stretching damn near to the ceiling. There was a sitting area near the windows, a dresser, a TV mounted on the wall, and another door that I assumed led to the bathroom.

“Make yourself comfortable. I’ma get you something to wear.”

Before I could respond, he turned and walked out.

I sat on the edge of the bed and looked around, still trying to process how the fuck I’d gone from celebrating my twenty-fifth birthday with my family to sitting inside some fucking strange man’s house wearing the same dress I’d been auctioned off in.

A few minutes later, he came back carrying a T-shirt, a towel, and a washcloth.

“Aight, here you go.” He handed everything to me. “Tomorrow, I’ll have my girl Nia get you some clothes.”

I raised my eyebrow. “How you gonna have her get me clothes when you don’t even know what size I wear?”

His eyes traveled over me slowly before coming back to my face.

“Don’t worry about that.”

I blinked. This nigga.

Before I could ask him what the hell that was supposed to mean, he turned around and walked out.

I rolled my eyes and got off the bed before heading into the bathroom.

The second I flipped on the light, my mouth parted.

“Damn.”

The bathroom was nice as fuck. Large gray tiles covered the floor and continued up the walls, and a long vanity stretched along one side with two sinks, black fixtures, and a huge mirror with soft lighting around it. A deep soaking tub sat underneath a window, but it was the walk-in shower that caught my attention. The damn thing was surrounded by clear glass and big enough for at least three people, with a rainfall showerhead hanging from the ceiling and another one mounted against the wall.

This nigga’s guest bathroom looked like somebody’s personal spa. I turned on the shower and held my hand underneath the water until it warmed up. Once it was hot enough, I slipped out of my clothes and stepped inside.

The second the warm water hit me, some of the tension I’d been carrying all night finally started to loosen.

I stood underneath the showerhead and closed my eyes, wishing like hell I could wash away everything that had happened today right along with the makeup and sweat.

But I couldn’t. My father’s face immediately flashed through my mind.

“I’m sorry, baby.”

My chest tightened, and the tears came before I could stop them, mixing with the water running down my face.

I couldn’t believe my father had done this shit to me. That was the part I couldn’t get past.

He knew. For twenty-five fucking years, he’d known about that deal. He’d watched me grow up, celebrated every birthday with me, hugged me, told me he loved me, and all this time he’d known what was waiting for me when I turned twenty-five.

This wasn’t no regular hurt. This shit felt like betrayal.

I stayed underneath the water for a while longer before finally forcing myself to actually wash up. Once I finished showering, I stepped out, dried off, and slipped on the T-shirt he had given me. I still didn’t know this man’s fucking name, but he had me here in his crib.

The damn thing swallowed me, but at least it was comfortable.