Razing Grace: Razing Grace Part 1 (11 page)

He laughs and continues out the door. I scrunch my face up in disgust before walking into the bedroom. Flicking the light on, I close the door behind myself.

“Well, it’s not a dungeon,” I mutter under my breath. And it’s not. There’s a white metal four post bed that sits to the left of the room. A window directly in front of me that’s covered by a netted curtain. Opposite the bed, an average sized television hangs on the dark grey walls and to the left of it is the bathroom and to the right is the closet.

There’s a cheval mirror which stands in the corner, and my reflection catches my eye. It’s the first time I’ve seen myself since the night I was taken. My collar bone is as sharp as a Swiss army knife and my legs are frail. I look like crap.

Leaving my sad reflection, I walk into the closet and flick on the light which then displays all the clothes hanging on the rails and folded inside little slots which were built into the wall. There are shoes lined together that frame the closet floor too. A collection of handbags are neatly placed on top of the closet as well. Rolling my eyes, I snatch a plain shirt that’s folded in one of the drawers and begin to rummage through all the underwear which are placed in another. “Mother—f—” I curse under my breath once I realize there are no cotton underwear, only skimpy little lace panties that will barely cover my ass. In a huff, I take the white lace boy shorts and the loose white T before walking into the bathroom.

The bathroom is plain, but because I haven’t been in civilization for so long, it feels like I’m living in a palace. The little sink sits directly opposite the toilet, and a box shower sits beside that which is encased by glass doors. There’s a black drawer sitting under the sink which holds a ridiculous amount of makeup and towels.

I look up into the mirror hanging over the sink. My sunken cheeks and eyes display my distress. Why do I get the feeling that me being here is a very bad thing? I turn toward the shower and wait until it’s scalding hot before stripping off my clothes and stepping in. After scrubbing all the dirt and crap off my skin, my face, and hair, I turn off the faucet and step out. Walking towards the black drawer, I pull out a towel and wrap it around my body before pulling the bathroom door open.

“Shit!” My hand flies up to my chest as I clutch the towel in my hand. Raze is sitting on the side of my bed casually, his eyes traveling down my body slowly. “What’s happening?” I ask, walking towards the bed quickly and snatching the shirt and underwear up from beside him.

Walking to the closet again, I pull down some sweatpants and decide I’d rather get changed in here; at least that way, I won’t need to walk past him again wearing nothing but a damn towel. I close the door and lean against it, dropping my towel to the floor and quickly throwing my clothes on. Hearing his deep chuckle on the other side of the door, I collect the towel off the floor and pull the door open again.

Leaning against the doorframe, I slowly run the towel through my hair. “Why am I here, Raze?”

“I need your help,” he states, standing from the bed and walking towards me slowly.

I push off the doorframe, my body tensing the way it always does when he’s around.

“My help? With what? What could I possibly help you with?”

He stops in front of me, his head tilting as he studies me closely. “That will come in due time. For now,” he says, his hand reaching out to mine. I pull back and his eyes slant in annoyance. “For now, do as you’re told and stop asking so many questions, then you might make it out alive.”

“I thought you just said that you need my help?” I yell out just as his hand touches the door handle.

He smirks over his shoulder before pulling the door open and leaving.

I thought that things couldn’t get more confusing back at the base. I was wrong; I’m drowning in confusion now.

RAZE

Pushing open the heavy metal door that leads into the basement of my house, I walk through, rolling my sleeves up again.

The heavy wooden oval table that sits in the middle of the large area is lit by the many shimmering lights I have scattered against the wall. The basement is where I conduct most of my meetings. It has one entry and one exit, not including my entry through the house. Five of my men stand on each corner of the room while Miles stands directly behind me. I take a seat at the head of the table.

“Raze.” A nod goes around the table at my entry.

“Hachiro,” I reply, relaxing into my seat.

Hachiro sits forward with his two men beside him, watching me closely. I lock my eyes with his, my jaw taut. I can feel his boys tense up, watching me with careful eyes, so I cock my brow. “You gonna tell your bitch boys to stand the fuck down? Or do I have to remind them who they’re dealing with?”

Hachiro’s eye twitches. I want to laugh because he’ll be hating the position I’ve put him in, which is the position all men find themselves in while in my presence: on their hands and knees like the good little bitches they are.

With a small nod, his boys back down.

“What’s the plan, Raze? Gonna fill me in here or are you assuming that the Yakuza will back you because of who you are?”

I chuckle, running my index finger over the top of my lip. “Mmm. I’m thinking you’re going to be more than happy to accompany me into my plan, Hachiro.” My eyes gleam, the smile that pulls across my mouth doing a poor attempt at hiding my excitement.

“Well, by all means,” he flicks his hands up. “Fill me in.”

MILLIE

Not long after Raze leaves the room, I hear a knock on the door. “Millie?”

I walk towards the door and pull it open. Miles is standing there in his suit and tie. He’s wearing black rimmed glasses that frame his bright blue eyes, and for the love of all hot men, he actually pulls them off, though I have to note that his style is a little strange. “Yes? What can I do for you?”

He nudges his head toward the hallway. “Well, I take it you’re hungry. I’ll show you around.”

“Show me around?” I question, closing the door behind myself and falling into step behind him. Walking past another door, I see it’s cracked open a little so I pause and take a step back. Miles is still chatting away when I peer into the bedroom. It looks similar to mine only this one has white walls and yellow curtains. A blonde girl is sitting on the bed watching what I assume to be the television.

“What’re you doing?” Miles whispers harshly into my ear, making me jump in my spot.

Whacking his arm with the back of my hand, I scold him. “You scared me.”

I look up to him and his eyes widen. “Good. The smart ones are scared of me.”

“I’m not very smart,” I trail off, taking my eyes back to the girl.

His hand wraps around my chin as he snaps my face back towards him. “Food. You look like shit and you’re way too skinny.”

I follow behind him, my arms folded in front of myself. “So what? Does he have a collection of woman? And how do you know this isn’t my normal weight? I might just be this skinny.”

Miles laughs as we reach the top of the stairs. “Collection of women? You could say that.” He shrugs before continuing. “Your tits, puddin’. They give you away.”

He continues walking and I look down at my breasts. “What about them?”

He tsks at me, throwing his finger up in the air. “They’re too fucking juicy, that’s what. Come.”

I follow behind, my hand on the rail to stop me from falling. “And why?”

“Why… what?” Miles asks. Did he not know why I was asking why Raze needed an army of women?

“Why does he have all these woman? Did he buy them too?”

Miles laughs. We reach the bottom of the stairs as he leads me into the kitchen. “No. He didn’t buy them, Millie.”

“Why do you find that funny? He just bought me. What else am I to assume is going on here?”

“You don’t,” he answers, pulling open the fridge and placing deli meats, cheese, mayo, and bread on the breakfast bar. I pull out a stool, taking a seat.

“What do you mean, ‘you don’t’? And are you making me a sandwich?” I can’t hide the small laugh that’s about to slip. He pauses, closing the fridge door.

“Make your own shit and stop asking questions. I can’t answer anything for you, you’ll have to ask Raze.”

“I don’t like Raze very much.”

“Hmmm?” Miles smiles. “He seems to like you.”

“Who did you say you were again?” I ask, tilting my head.

He shrugs, pulling out a couple of slices and placing them on the table. “I didn’t.” He rolls the sleeves of his shirt up and pulls open a drawer, taking out a butter knife. He starts spreading mayo on the bread and building a sandwich. He pushes my plate to me and I smile. “Thanks.”

Picking up the sandwich, I take a bite before placing it back down. “Why am I here?”

“You’ll know in good time.”

I continue eating until every bit is gone and my stomach tightens from being so full. I actually feel quite nauseated; I probably shouldn’t have eaten so much all at once, considering I had nothing but water the whole time I was in the dungeon. My curiosity is scratching at the back of my head, wanting to ask more questions about Miles. I can’t put my finger on him; it’s as though he has this very different personality that shines through him. I don’t know what to make of that.

He nudges his head, pulling me out of my thoughts. “Come on. I’ll take you back.”

I pick up the empty plate and place it into the sink. When I turn back around, I see the same dark-haired girl walk in wearing a glamorous black dress with sequins embedded into the skimpy material. Her hair is up in a high elegant bun and her makeup is done to perfection. I hate her.

She looks at me up and down, her lip curling. “Ew.” She steps away from Miles who’s watching her with careful eyes. “Look what the cat dragged in.” She moves towards the fridge and pulls out a bottle of champagne.

I look at Miles who’s watching me closely. “Come on, Millie.”

“Millie?” The girl laughs.

“Shut the fuck up, Cassia,” Miles snaps at her.

She pauses for a second before placing the bottle back into the fridge. Picking up her fresh glass of champagne, she turns to look at me. “You won’t last long here, honey. Raze likes them hot. He doesn’t do lost little puppies.”

“I’m not lost.” I clamp my mouth closed after replying. I didn’t want to start anything with this girl, especially if I have to live under the same roof, but seriously? She’s rubbing me the wrong way and my frame of mind right now is already fragile.

Miles begins to slowly make his way towards me. Cassia pauses, her glass an inch away from her mouth. “Oh, but of course you are.” She empties her champagne down her throat before wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. “But that’s okay. He’ll get bored with you, like he gets bored of every girl who’s not me, or Ella.”

She taps the counter just as another person walks into the kitchen. When I look up, my eyes lock onto Raze’s. I raise my eyebrows and give him a knowing smirk. “Okkkaaay,” I say slowly, acting as though I’m not fazed or threatened because that’s the only thing that annoys girls like Cassia. If they think you don’t care about their bullying, they get more annoyed than if you bite back. I had Melissa as my sister, and as much as I love my sister, she was a lot like Cassia. I look at Miles, who is still staring down at me. “I’ll go to bed.” I go to walk around Raze, but he doesn’t budge. “Move, please,” I say softly, my eyes remaining on the ground because truthfully, the man terrifies the bejesus outta me. He terrified me in the dungeon, and more so out here. I don’t know why, but I get the feeling that whoever he is in this world— his world—it’s something I should definitely tread lightly on.

He doesn’t move.

“Raze!” I look up at him, his eyes searching mine. “Can you please move?”

He’s wearing a new suit now, same colors, but this one is fresh and clean. His scent is more prominent at the moment with a hint of soap. His ash blond hair is slicked back on the top like he usually styles it, with a little gloss shining through. They obviously have big plans tonight and they look great together.

He snatches my hand and begins tugging me up the stairs. I look over my shoulder to see Miles watching me closely with a small smile on his mouth. Once we’re down the hallway, I try to pull my hand out of his with no success. “Can you let me go please?” He doesn’t reply. It’s not until he pushes me into my room and steps in behind me, kicking the door closed with his foot, that he finally speaks.