by Mae Doyle
Or a month.
Fuck. I’ve never seen anyone have feet that raw before. There’s absolutely no way she’s going to be up and moving around for a while.
After she takes a bite of toast, I sit down next to her, pulling the covers up so that we’re both snug under them. My body wants to betray me, and I feel my cock start to twitch at the thought of what we did together the last time we were in this bed, but I push it away.
I need to focus on helping her, not on banging her.
“So, tell me,” she says around a mouthful of egg, “what really happened. I remember…running from you, and I think that it’s because I was scared, but I’m not sure. I don’t remember a lot, to be honest, so I need you to tell me the truth.”
The truth. That shit’s never gone good for me, especially when dealing with a broad, and this is some heavy shit that she doesn’t need to hear. I know that she’s going to freak out, even though right now she’s looking at me like she’s calm.
Broads are never calm. That’s why we don’t tell them shit that’s going on with the family.
Pops will be pissed, but what am I supposed to do, keep her drugged for the rest of her life? Try to wipe out her memory and keep her high on Valium the whole time? Fuck that.
She hates me. Deep down, she hates me, but she’ll do whatever her family tells her to. We’re exactly the same in that regard.
“We met last week. Friday,” I begin, but she immediately interrupts me.
“What day is it today?”
I sigh and run a hand through my hair. “Early Tuesday morning, Hannah, but if you want me to tell you what’s going on then you need to promise you won’t interrupt. Things will make sense in the end, but only if you let me tell you what I need to, okay?”
She bites her lower lip and nods, but that little quirk of hers turns my aching cock into a throbbing one. Shifting position, I adjust myself. Fuck, there’s something about this little broad that has me all twisted up.
It would almost be easier to marry her if I didn’t want her the way that I do.
“We met and I brought you home. Turns out that we were both out drinking to erase the thought of what our families were demanding we do, but we didn’t realize that at the time.”
“What do they want us to do?” She interrupted, but shook her head when I glared at her. “Sorry, go on.”
Good girl. The thought that my Hannah can be taught makes me smile, and I take a moment to compose myself before continuing.
She’s not my Hannah. She may end up my wife, but that doesn’t mean that she’ll ever be mine, and I’m going to have to get used to that.
“We had a great night,” I tell her honestly. “And then we didn’t see each other again until Monday. Yesterday. We met with our families at the Claw and Crown – the bar where you and I met to sign some paperwork.” There’s no easy way to say the rest of this.
She tilts her head a little to look at me. Even though she’s incredibly focused, I can tell that her eyes are a little glazed. She’s having trouble focusing, but she’s trying hard, I’ll give her that.
“We’re getting married, Hannah. Our families need us to marry so that you get the protection and construction help of my family, and we get in on the businesses that you own. That’s it. You and I have to do this for our families.”
What I don’t tell her is that I’ve warmed to the idea. Do I want to get married? Hell, no. But there’s something about the idea of her warming my bed, bearing my children…fuck. I like it.
She’s stopped eating and is staring at me with a horrified expression on her face. “They’re selling me off?”
The engagement ring sparkles on her finger as she waves her hands around. “They want me to just…get married to save them? How can they ask that? Why would I say yes?”
I don’t answer her. I’ve spent enough time around broads to know that they need a chance to freak out when they’re like this and then they’ll be fine. Besides, she’s been through a lot in the past 24 hours. It’s the least I can do – give her some time to panic.
“You killed someone.” She points at me and jabs her finger into my chest. “I can’t marry a murderer! You came to the bar with blood on your pants. Who did you kill? What did they do to you? Why would you think that I’d marry someone like you? Someone who kills other people?”
That’s it. I was going to try to be as calm and caring as I could, but the things she’s saying now aren’t okay and I grab her wrist, using it to pull her towards me. She gasps and tries to yank back, but I’m stronger and I’m not going to let her go.
Not until we figure this shit out.
“You listen, Hannah. Yeah, I’d killed someone when you and I met, but it wasn’t my choice. In fact, it was your dad who wanted it done, so we did it. For you. For your family.”
She gasps, but I ignore her. She wants the truth? Great. Little Hannah Del Rossi is finally going to have someone lay it all out for her.
“So your family – your dad – is the reason why we had to kill someone yesterday morning. That’s why I had blood on my pants. And when you ran away and got yourself kidnapped, do you know what we did?”
Hannah shakes her head. She doesn’t want to hear this, but I don’t give a shit. Someone needs to teach the little princess exactly how things work and let her know that she’s not the center of the universe any longer.
“We hunted them down. We found you, Hannah, and brought you back home to keep you safe. You’re here now because nobody will be able to fucking touch you. It’s the best place for you to be, and I’m the reason why. It’s because you’re mine, Hannah, and anyone who looks at you wrong will die. Do you understand me?”
“No,” she whimpers, trying to pull away. “No, you didn’t do all of this. I don’t want this. Let me go!”
“I can’t,” I growl, pulling her closer. She’s terrified, I can smell it on her, and it makes me want her even more. “I can’t let you go because you’re mine, Hannah. What the fuck do you think happened to all of those men who took you? Do you think that they’re still breathing? Huh?”
“Stop!” She’s crying, huge tears that are cutting down her cheeks. We’d tried our best to clean the blood off of her face when we brought her home, but she needs a shower. She looks like hell.
“I killed them all.” Our faces are so close now that I can feel her breathing. “I shot each one of them in the face so they couldn’t hurt you again. You wanted to know why we’re together and why I had blood on me? It was because of you and your family, Hannah, and now, thanks to you being so fucking stupid and running away from me, I have more blood on my hands.”
I’m not even sure that she can hear me now. She’s sobbing and taking huge racking breaths that make it sound like she’s choking. I’ve gotten through to her, and I should be happy about that, but I keep seeing the perky little Hannah on the barstool next to me in my mind.
Fuck.
“And you know what?” I’m whispering now. There’s no way that she can hear me over her sobs and through her tears. “You were worth it, Hannah. I’d do it again.”
She doesn’t answer, and I let go of her wrist. Her food has spilled all over the bed, but I don’t give a shit. We can burn the fucking sheets if I don’t want to wash them in the morning, but if I don’t get some rest, I don’t think I’m going to be able to function.
Her crying is going to make it difficult, but I flip her over and pull her to me. She stiffens immediately and tries to worm away, but I just tighten my grip. I’m not letting her go.
I was told to protect her, and I take my vows seriously.
Chapter 13
Hannah
I honestly didn’t think that I would ever get to sleep last night, not with the thoughts of what Arlo had done swirling through my mind. I was trying my best to piece together what had really happened with my memories and what he told me, but it was practically impossible.
The next thing I know, I’m waking up thanks to a stream of ligh
t on my face. Sitting up, I moan and cover my eyes. They still hurt, and the entire side of my face is puffy. Mentally, I do a checklist to see how I’m feeling.
My face aches. I can’t touch my cheek without sucking in a hiss. My right shoulder feels like it was dislocated and then shoved back into place, but I’m not sure if that really happened or if I just feel like it did.
Both of my wrists burn from being tied down, and my hips feel like someone slammed me into the floor. I have cuts up my legs and on my feet, but Arlo or the doctor must have bandaged me up, because I can’t look at them. The puffy white gauze looks out of place against the bruising on my arms and upper thighs, and I shiver.
I need a shower.
And something else to eat.
There are cold scrambled eggs in bed, and for just a moment, I wonder what the hell happened last night. We didn’t…
No, we didn’t. It was just me thrashing around that caused my plate to flip over onto the covers. Slowly I turn to look for Arlo, but he’s not in bed with me. I’m surprised at first, but then I remember my feet. It’s not like I would be able to make it very far if I did make a run for it, so he probably thought that he could leave me here without any problems.
The rest of the bedroom is just like I remember from last Friday, but there’s no Arlo sitting in the corner. I notice that the bedroom door is open just a crack and I call out for him.
Holy hell, my voice sounds like shit. He doesn’t come, probably because he couldn’t hear me, so I clear my throat and try again.
“Arlo?” This time I’m sure that I’m loud enough for him to hear me, and sure enough, after a moment, he leans in the room.
I swear, my heart stops. I shouldn’t feel this way about him, not when I know what I do about him, and not when he could easily kill me or fuck me, but I can’t help it. There’s a twisting low in my core that I recognize as longing and I feel myself start to throb.
There’s just no way to look at him without remembering what he was able to do to me the other night. He did things to my body that I didn’t know were possible. He made me feel something that nobody ever had before.
But that doesn’t mean that I’m not terrified of him.
“You called? How are you feeling, Hannah?” He walks towards me, slowly, like I’m a caged animal and he’s a little worried about getting too close.
I can’t help but see the irony in that. He’s a killer. A murderer. I have no idea how many people he killed yesterday, and the way he’s walking towards me now, his eyes locked on me like I’m all that he can see, makes me shiver.
Okay, it does more than that. I feel a longing rising up in me and I’m worried that it’s going to burst out of me and show on my face, so I do my best to put on a scowl. It’s not too hard. I want him, sure, but I’m still afraid of him.
And I definitely don’t want to marry him.
“I’m okay, I think. I just woke up and you weren’t here and I didn’t know where you’d gone.”
He sits down on the foot of the bed and I shift position for him, wincing as I do. Holy hell, every part of my body aches and I don’t know how I’m going to be able to survive this. Before yesterday, the only real injury I’d ever had was when I’d broken my arm riding my bike.
“You sure you’re okay? I can get you something for the pain,” he offers, already getting back up to grab something from the table by the bed. I watch as he drops two white pills into his hand and then offers them to me with a glass of water.
“Thanks.” I don’t want to accept help from him. I don’t want to accept anything from him, but I’m in a lot of pain, so I take the pills he offers and throw them back, swallowing hard to get them down before chasing them with some water.
“About last night,” he begins, but I cut him off.
“I want to go home.”
He laughs. Honest to god, the motherfucker laughs. “Hannah, sweetheart, did you not hear a word that I said last night? You are home. This is it. You and me, until we have a baby. We’re getting married, but we may push the ceremony a little so that you don’t have as many bruises in the photos.”
“We’re not getting married.” I shake my head but instinctively reach out and take the papers he hands me.
“Check it out. We all signed it yesterday morning right before I gave you your ring and you freaked out and went and got yourself kidnapped. It’s binding, Hannah. I don’t care what you think or what you want. This is what the families have chosen, and you’re here now. You’re mine.”
Not a chance. I skim the papers and my heart sinks. He’s telling the truth. I swear, I don’t remember signing this, but I recognize my signature. Fire flames in me and I rip the papers before throwing them back at his face.
“No! I won’t do it, and you can’t make me!” For a moment, the look on his face stops me in my tracks. He looks pissed, and I’m sure that I’ve just really fucked up, but he only starts to laugh.
“What’s so funny?” The papers are in shreds by his feet but he just kicks them to the side and climbs back on the bed with me. I stiffen as he puts an arm around my shoulder and pulls me to him, but he’s so much stronger than I am and everything hurts. Even though I don’t want to, I lean against him.
Even though I don’t want to admit it, it feels good.
“What’s funny, sweetheart, is that you would be so silly as to think that those were the originals.” He chuckles and the rumbles travel from his body into mine. We’re so close together that our skin feels like it’s touching except for the pesky clothes we’re both wearing.
“You may think that you can get away that easily, but you can’t, Hannah. It doesn’t matter how many papers you rip up or how much of a fit you throw. You’re mine, and there’s not a damn thing that you can do about it, so I think that you should get used to the idea and figure out if you can find a way to be happy with the news.”
My stomach sinks at his words. Even though I barely know him, I already know enough about him to be able to tell that he’s dead serious. I don’t know what I did or what my family did to get me in this situation, but it’s obvious that I really don’t have a way out.
The rational part of my brain understands this, but there’s still part of me that wants to fight and rail against him. I don’t want him to be able to control me that easily, and I just wish that I could remember everything.
Listening to his heart, I try hard to think back. My entire body aches, and it’s difficult for me to focus, but I want to remember what it was like before all of this shit went down. I want to know how I felt about him last Friday when I first came back here with him.
I remember the sex. It was great.
Thinking hard, I can kinda remember how he made me leave after we had sex. My body stiffens a little, and I hope that he won’t notice, but of course he does.
“Everything okay, sweetheart? I’m sure that you need to use the bathroom and then I’ll help you with your bandages so that you can shower, okay?” His voice is so calm and quiet. I’m having a hard time believing that he’s the same person who was just laughing at me a little bit ago and telling me that I don’t have a choice but to be with him.
“I think that I remember some things.” What’s the worst that could happen if I tell him? He gets mad?
He kills me.
I mean, obviously he could, but I have a strong feeling that he wouldn’t do anything to harm me. It’s fucked up that he murdered people for me, but…
But it makes me feel really good, all the same. I can’t deny that, as much as I’d like to. This isn’t normal, and there’s nothing that I can do to chance that.
“What do you remember?” He shifts his position so that I’m still leaning on him but now I can turn my head and look up at him. I have to be careful because my face is so puffy and bruised, but I like to be able to see his face when we’re talking.
I want to be able to tell what he’s thinking when I let him know what I know.
“I remember after we were togeth
er on Friday night,” I begin, but then I pause, just to see if he’s going to interrupt. He doesn’t, and I forge forward. “I remember that you wanted me gone as soon as we were done, and you kinda…kicked me out.”
He sighs and I watch as he runs his hand through his hair. It’s a little quirk of his, and there’s something about it that makes my core grow warm. He’s just so damn hot, with his dark eyes and his strong jaw. There’s more stubble there now that wasn’t there the first time that we met, and I can’t help but wonder what it would feel like to have him between my legs.
My face grows hot and I have to push the thought away. There’s no way that that’s going to happen again, not with how uncomfortable we both are now.
“I wanted to be with you,” he says, carefully picking his words, “but I was pretty sure that it was a mistake, because I didn’t yet know who I was going to be married to. It felt wrong, but at the same time, I didn’t want you to leave.”
It takes me a moment to process what he’s just said, and by the time I open my mouth to respond, he’s slipped off of the bed and scooped me up. “Come on, let’s get you to the bathroom. I’ll help you out, okay?”
I shake my head even though I already know that I don’t have much, if any, say in the matter. “I don’t want your help, I can do it on my own, okay?”
He scoffs and gently puts me on the floor in the bathroom. “Sounds good, sweetheart. I’ll be in the bedroom reading, so you just call out to me when you’re done being stubborn.”
He leaves me and the pulls the door shut with a soft click. The bathroom I’m in is huge. It’s easily the size of my bedroom at my apartment, and he’s laid out some soft, fluffy towels by the bathtub for me. I scoot over to them and turn on the tap, then look around for something to wear.
There. By the sink. There’s a stack of clothes for me to change into. Good. I don’t want to have to call him in to ask him for clothes.
The last time we were naked together…I shake my head. I can’t think about that right now. Arlo is hot, there’s no doubt about that, but I’m still not sure that I trust him. I’m not sure that I can rely on him to take care of me.