11. Chapter Nine

Chapter Nine

Devon

I refuse to ask Tatum where we’re going, but it wouldn’t take a genius to figure it out. The number of signs we pass that say we’re getting closer to Chicago is all I need. In fact, I’d have guessed that even without the signs, because I know Tatum has a house there he hardly uses. I’m sure that’s exactly where he’s taking me. Probably to kill me. Though that would be stupid on his part. What better way than to be caught than to win someone at an auction and take them home and murder them? He’d be the number one suspect.

I’ve thought of jumping out of the limo. I’d risk the road rash and broken bones just to get away from him. I can’t believe I have to spend the entire weekend with him! But if I want that money, if I want to get out of this suffocating life, I have to do it. How bad could it possibly be? I mean, what is he going to do? We spend a lot of time in the same house, why should this be any different? Maybe it won’t be. In fact, maybe it’s all a misunderstanding. Tate could have bought me to help my brother. To stop me from spending the weekend with a guy. If that’s the case, he’s going to torment me for years to come over how much money he spent.

Is that why he spent so much?

Is that really why he did it?

The man is petty. I know this. He’s a brat and childish. He enjoys putting me through hell because he thinks I did something to him, even though I didn’t. He’s the one who screwed me over! But to spend three-point-five million dollars for payback? Is this the pettiest thing in the history of petty things? It must be. Because that is a lot of damn money, and I know even though his company is doing well, they aren’t doing that well. He’s still picking up the pieces from his father running it into the ground.

I’ve heard him and my brother talk about it enough. I shouldn’t listen in on their conversations, but it still eats away at me that I don’t know why Tatum hates me.

I say I don’t care, and I guess most of me doesn’t, but now that we’re sitting together in a limo on our way to spend the weekend together, I want to know what he thinks I did.

But I won’t open my mouth and ask because I can be petty too.

Besides, if there is only one question I could have answered tonight, it wouldn’t be about our past. Before my heart gets all crazy and starts thinking things that aren’t true—like he still cares about me—I need to know why Tatum bought me. And I need him to know that I’m not touching him with a ten-foot pole .

“I don’t know what you think is going to happen this weekend, Tatum, but I am not having sex with you,” are the first words I speak to him since being in the limo.

“Not having sex seems to be your thing, Devon,” he says with a roll of his eyes. Before I can scream at him, he adds, “Besides, I don’t want to have sex with you.”

“Excuse me?” I snap and regret it instantly.

I don’t care that he doesn’t want to have sex with me. At least, I shouldn’t. But I guess I do… a little.

Why doesn’t he want to have sex with me?

I almost ask, but I don’t want him to know I care.

But I’m offended! He picks up a new girl each week, but I’m where he draws the line? God, I hate him!

“I said I—”

“I heard you!” I snap.

He purses his lips and turns away, looking out the window. I do the same.

I’m itching to call Summer and spill my guts, but I can’t do that in front of him.

When we pull into the city, I try not to show my excitement. It’s been years since I’ve been here, and one of my favorite things, as silly as it may be, is riding the water taxi. Too bad I won’t get to experience it this time.

Chicago isn’t much different from the other major cities I’ve been to. But there is something that I love about the water through Chicago, the same way I love the water around Boston and New York.

Maybe I won’t move to another country after all. Maybe I’ll stay in the US and move somewhere with a lot of water. Hawaii is too expensive. California is too. Besides, those would be the first two places my brother would check. Oregon, maybe? Oh, Seattle is gorgeous. I could go there. Or maybe I’ll settle in Boston. The east coast is beautiful. I could hide away in New Hampshire and venture to Boston when I need some city life. It’s the perfect cover. Dane would never guess I’d move to New Hampshire.

The options are endless, and it’s going to take a lot to decide where I want to go. Though, the sooner I leave, the better. Especially now that Tatum could throw a wrench in my plan at any second and rat me out. Because I’m still not convinced he won’t.

When we drive deeper into the city, I grow confused. There aren’t houses in this part of Chicago. I look at him, wanting to ask where we’re going, but choose not to. He’d probably give some smart ass remark, and the last thing I want to do is fight with him.

The adrenaline from the day has worn off and left me exhausted. Wherever we go, I better have my own bed. If he plans to make me sleep on the floor—or worse, tries to make me sleep with him—I’ll have to kill him.

The streets aren’t as busy as I’ve seen them before, but that’s likely because it’s two in the morning. There are still plenty of people out and about. Bars have just closed, and people are making their way home or to other places to party.

We pull into an underground parking lot, which confuses me even more.

“Where are we?” I ask, unable to stop myself this time .

“I was waiting for that question. Actually, I expected you to ask where we were going hours ago.”

“Just answer the question, Tatum,” I say, pinching the bridge of my nose. I’m getting a headache.

“We’re at my penthouse,” he says easily.

His penthouse? Pent house? I guess I missed the first part of that word when I was eavesdropping. And that’s what I get for doing it.

The limo pulls up in front of the elevators and Tatum opens the door without waiting for the driver. He stands by it, holding his hand out for me. With my purse in hand, I get out, ignoring his outstretched hand. He can go fuck himself if he thinks I’m touching him for anything.

I hear his sigh, then the door close. He moves past me to the elevator doors and swipes a key card that has them sliding open within seconds. I don’t move.

“You can get in or you can stay out here all night,” he tells me, holding his arm in front of the doors so they don’t close.

I glance the way we came. Do I want to take my chances in Chicago in the middle of the night, dressed like this ? Not a damn chance. Though I was able to get my dress on before we left, it isn’t safe for a woman in a snow suit to walk around Chicago alone this time of night, never mind anything less.

I storm into the elevator, my heels clacking on the steel plate over the threshold before muffling on the carpeted elevator floor. Tatum steps in and he swipes his card again. The doors close, and up we go.