Maisie
"You're not going to invite me in?"
We'd made two more stops after Quinlan filled me up with so much food, I felt as heavy as a sack of potatoes. Maybe I wasn't depressed. Maybe I had just been hungry.
The small bed was now packed with shopping bags of clothes and shoes I had been too proud to admit I needed, considering Jericho had literally burned my entire closet back at the estate, and I'd been living out of the couple of sweats Mercer grabbed when he abducted me from Utah.
It was nice, twisting around in front of a mirror while Quinlan shook his head or nodded in approval. It took my mind off things for a couple of hours.
"Maisie, cherie, come look at this," Quinlan had said, stepping out of the lingerie section, holding up a set of black leather straps, matte-black O-rings, and tiny metallic buckles.
I stared at it, my eyebrows furrowing. It looked familiar, teasing my memory of our night at Quinlan's club, though I couldn't place where I'd seen that.
