2. Crazy PLan

Brielle’s POV 

My phone was the first thing my trembling hand reached for. Before my mind could even catch up to reason, I just grabbed my phone off the nightstand and took a picture of the stranger tied to the bed. I could hear my panicked breaths. The thumping of my heart that raced in excitement, increased in pace again for an entirely different reason.

Still, this strange man just watched me, without flinching or even any iota of panic. All he had on was that infuriating smirk that stretched even wider as he watched my reaction.

The second my brain understood what my eyes were seeing, I bolted, nearly tripping as I scrambled toward the door. I couldn’t even think of waiting. I was supposed to untie him but I didn’t even know if that was wise at this point. My fingers shook so violently, immediately they found the door, as I could barely twist the lock. Yet behind me, still lying, tied to the bed, this strange man actually laughed. And my panic only worsened.

“Running already, little cat?” His voice came out so calm and unbothered. Like this entire nightmare was some twisted joke. Fuck! How did I get so unlucky?!

When the door finally gave way, I practically fell into the hallway. The leather of my costume squeaked with every frantic step as I sprinted toward the elevator. My chest was so tight as I struggled to breathe. Guilt began to tighten my chest even more. Everything felt so wrong. 

When I reached the elevator, I turned back to look. He wasn’t following me. Thank God! Even though I know I left him tied to the bed.

The elevator dinged, and I dove inside, slamming the “Lobby” button like my life depended on it. At this point, I honestly believed it did. Finally the doors slid shut, trapping me in the metal box. But I couldn’t stop myself from pondering on the chaos that had just occurred.

That wasn’t Marcus. My mind repeated it in a loop, like some deranged mantra. That wasn’t Marcus. Oh my God. That wasn’t Marcus. I pressed a hand to my chest, trying to breathe. Trying to think. Trying to understand how my stupid, ridiculous, “fun” idea had turned into the worst night of my life.

How? How did this happen? I closed my eyes and tried to think back to when this whole crazy plan started.

It was two weeks ago. I’d been at Cassandra’s apartment with her and Finn, drinking wine and complaining about how boring my relationship with Marcus had become.

“He literally forgot our six-month anniversary,” I’d said, pouring myself another glass. “Just forgot. Like it was nothing.”

“He literally just glanced at me and said, ‘Oh… was that today?’” I’d complained, topping off my glass. “Who forgets that? Who forgets me?”

“Men,” Finn had said without looking up. “They’re allergic to romance.”

“Scientific fact,” Cassandra added.

I’d flopped back dramatically. “He used to be obsessed with me. Now I have to remind him I exist.”

“Dump him,” Finn said instantly.

“Do something bold,” Cassandra offered.

Their advice had collided in my brain and the output….was very wrong.

“What if I kidnapped him?” I’d blurted.

Finn had choked on his wine, while Cassandra stared at me like I’d grown horns.

“I mean like a fun kidnapping,” I’d clarified. “For his birthday. You know it coincides with Halloween right? Kidnapping him would be something dramatic enough to jolt him awake.”

“That is not dramatic,” Finn had said slowly. “That is — Brielle — that is felony.”

But I’d been buzzing with the idea. It really thrilled every fibre of me and got me energized.

“Come on,” I’d begged, nudging Finn with my foot. “Help me plan it. You’re the only one chaotic enough to actually pull this off with me.”

“Brielle, that’s insane!” Cassandra had practically yelled.

“It’s creative!” I’d argued.

“It’s illegal!” Finn had countered.

“It’s not illegal if he enjoys it!” I’d shot back.

We’d argued for another hour. Cassandra had been firmly against it, saying I was going to get arrested or worse. Finn had been on the fence, saying it was crazy but also kind of brilliant.

“Please, Finn,” I begged. “I need your help.” I kept begging the only person I knew that would go out of his way to help me. 

“I don’t know, Bri,” he’d said, looking uncertain.

“Come on! You’re always saying you want more excitement in your life. This is exciting!”

“This is insane,” Cassandra had muttered.

But eventually, after another glass of wine and a lot more begging, Finn had caved.

“Fine,” he’d said. “I’ll help you. But if we get arrested, I’m blaming you.”

“Deal!”

Cassandra had shaken her head. “I want no part of this. I’ll watch from the sidelines, but I’m not helping with this crazy plan. It’s too much, even for you.”

“That’s fine,” I’d said, too excited to care. “Finn and I can handle it.” And we’d planned everything. Every detail.

Marcus was supposed to get grabbed outside the bar at nine. Finn’s hired goons were supposed to bag him, gag him, deliver him to Finn, and Finn would take him to the hotel. I would walk in like the world’s most unhinged birthday present. Everything had been planned to the minute.

But here I was, shaking in an elevator, wearing a cat mask, realizing I’d just ridden a stranger. A dangerously looking stranger, at that.

The elevator reached the lobby. I rushed out, ignoring the looks, ignoring everything except the desperate need to get to my car. My legs carried me on autopilot. I was still struggling with my breathing but that was the least of my worries. That is, if it even made it to my worries at that moment.

By the time I got into my car and slammed the door shut, my hands were still trembling too hard to keep steady. How? How could this have happened? I couldn’t stop pondering what could have occurred because it was so perfectly planned out.

Unless—

“God, no,” I whispered, dread pounding through me. “No, no, no.”