Trapping Sophia: Disciples 6

by Sweet, Izzy

  Why does James have these pictures of me?

  And why does he have them bound together and buried deep in the box like a dirty secret?

  Not wanting to accept the most logical answer, I grab the fabric that slid out of the box and slide it through my hands.

  It’s a long, plain black strip. There’s no decoration or embroidery. There’s only two wrinkled, indented spots near each end.

  Like the strip of fabric was tied together at one point…

  With a cry, I throw the cloth as if it burned me and scramble backward to get away from it.

  My heart thumps painfully against my ribs as I stare in horror at the gag that was used to silence me. The very gag James removed and tossed away…

  He kept it.

  Oh god, he kept it.

  Why would he keep it?

  Why?

  The question loops through my head as I try to make sense of it all.

  And the only way to make sense of it is to accept that he’s sick.

  He’s a sick, sick man.

  Spying on me. Taking pictures of me without me knowing. Keeping the small things I’ve lost.

  He’s sick, and I’m trapped in this house with him.

  Oh god.

  My brain on a total roll now, it reminds me of all the weird crap he’s said and done over the past couple days.

  Weird shit he’s been saying and doing from the very beginning.

  Like wanting to take me to his house when I said I wanted to go home, or refusing to leave my room when I wanted to take a shower.

  Hovering around me and insisting he’s going to keep me safe.

  Fighting with me and making me eat.

  Telling Trent I’m his woman.

  Fuck.

  Fuck.

  Fuckity fuck.

  I’m so stupid. So fucking stupid.

  I dismissed it all because I seriously thought he was after something else. The thought that he was after me didn’t once cross my mind.

  How could it?

  The bastard pushed me away. He pushed me away.

  He even treated me like shit at Beth’s…

  “This doesn’t make any sense!” I hiss as I stare at all the stuff laid out before me.

  It’s so freaking nonsensical and ridiculous, I still want to doubt it.

  I’m simply being self-centered and suffering from main character syndrome, I tell myself.

  I’m reading way too much into this.

  Seeing what I want to see.

  But the proof is literally spread out before me.

  Proof of an unhealthy… obsession.

  Burying my face in my hands, I try to calm my breathing and think.

  Think. Think. I’ve got to think.

  What am I going to do about this?

  I’ve already slept with him like a dumbass and he has me locked in this house with no way out.

  He never said how long he’d be gone and he could come back at any second…

  Shit.

  If he finds out I’ve found this, who knows how he’ll react.

  People tend to get a little crazy when their secrets are discovered.

  And he’s already crazy as it is.

  What if he ends up killing me and using my dead body as a sex puppet?

  Deciding my best course of action is to pretend I never found this, I get to work scooping everything back into the box. If I’m lucky, he won’t feel a need to dig through it again anytime soon because it’s not going back in the same way it came out.

  Once I’m done, I quickly get to my feet and push my way out of the closet.

  Mitzy follows after me, sticking close to my heels, completely oblivious to the mess she’s started.

  Or maybe she’s not completely oblivious.

  I would have never found that box if she hadn’t led me to it…

  Is she looking out for me or him?

  Shaking my head, I close the closet doors and experience a strange sense of relief.

  He didn’t catch me and all that stuff is back where it belongs. Tucked in a dark, dusty corner, hopefully never to see light again.

  Until I get a chance to burn it.

  * * *

  Feeling exhausted and downright dirty after the day’s events, I head to the guest bathroom and take a long hot shower. Standing under the water until the bathroom is so thick with steam it becomes difficult to breathe.

  Clean, refreshed, and still freaked out, I realize I don’t have any clothes except for what I was wearing. I fought James over packing, and by the time I realized he was truly going to force me to leave my house, it was too late to do anything about it.

  Not willing to put what I was wearing back on and not willing to go bed naked because that’s just asking for it, I drag my ass back to James’s room to borrow something to wear.

  Hoping I can find what I need in his dresser and avoid the closet completely, I start yanking open drawers. Like the closet, half of the of the drawers end up being empty, as if the space was left for someone else’s things.

  Trying not to assume he’s beyond insane and left the space for me, I find a drawer full of t-shirts and help myself to one. Unfortunately, there’s not a pair of boxers or underwear to be found.

  I guess James was being completely honest when he said he doesn’t wear them.

  Crap.

  The memory of his ass pops into my head, uninvited, as I grab a pair of his sweatpants and pull them on.

  Like the suit he’s wearing, it should be considered a sin for a guy to have an ass like his.

  All round and juicy with those dimples above it.

  The kind of ass I wish I had.

  And it’s not just his ass.

  His entire body is fantastic.

  The man is literally a walking, talking, breathing sin.

  I roll down the waistband of the sweatpants three times so they’ll stay up then shuffle my way back to the guest room, feeling like a complete clown.

  His clothes are way too big for me. The blue t-shirt I pulled on nearly goes down to my knees and the crotch of the black sweatpants is so long it’s hard to walk in them.

  Beggars can’t be choosers though.

  I take comfort in the fact that only a seriously desperate man would find anything sexy about the way I’m dressed. If I’m lucky, they’ll completely repulse him.

  As if they can sense I’m going to bed, Fluffers runs up the stairs with Mitzy chasing behind her.

  “Where have you been?” I grumble as I swoop down to pick up Fluffers and snuggle her in my arms.

  I haven’t seen her since James left. It’s not necessarily unusual because she likes to find little cubby holes to hide and sleep in, but it made me nervous.

  Fluffers looks up at me and gives me an apologetic meow.

  Sighing, I give her gray head a light scratch and tell her, “It’s okay. Just stay where I can see you from now on.”

  We need to be ready to run at any second, and I can’t run without her.

  I could never leave her behind.

  She’s like my child and the only family I have left.

  Without her…

  Meowing again, Fluffers leans into my head scratch as I carry her into the guest bedroom.

  Sitting down in the hallway, Mitzy pants as she looks up at us expectantly.

  “Are you coming, too?” I ask her before I close the door.

  Yipping, Mitzy runs happily across the threshold and jumps right on the bed to pick out her spot.

  At least she has manners, I think as I close the door, unlike her owner.

  It’s probably futile, given that this is his house and he seems to have a way around locks, but I lock the door anyway.

  I know it won’t keep James out, but it might slow him down a little bit.

  * * *

  Falling asleep is impossible. I just keep tossing and turning, unable to get the pictures I found out of my head.

  Pulling Fluffers up to my chest, I pet her by rubbing my palm slowly
up and down her back. Usually the motion and softness of her fur calms me down. Her purrs soothing whatever ails my heart.

  But even her love can’t help me tonight.

  I’m anxious and antsy about James coming back now that I know what I know.

  Eventually Fluffers gets annoyed with me and crawls up to my pillow to sleep above my head.

  Mitzy was snuggled against my stomach, but even she seems to lose patience with my constant movement. She ends up moving to the other side of the bed.

  I try to quiet my mind. Try to give into my exhaustion.

  I haven’t had a good night’s sleep in days, and with all the crying I’ve done, I’m beyond tired.

  But every little interaction I’ve had with James replays behind my eyes.

  My brain connecting the pieces.

  James pushed me away when he could have had me and he’s been stalking me ever since.

  Why is he stalking me?

  Why did he push me away?

  Is it because of my father? Like Simon said? Did he push me away because of my father, and now that my father is dead—

  I don’t hear the door to the guest bedroom swing open, but a beam of light from the hallway suddenly hits me in the face. I blink my eyes open long enough to see James’s dark form standing in the doorway then quickly close them and pretend to be sleeping.

  Doing my best to keep my breathing steady and even, my ears strain, listening, as I sense him walking silently in the room. Moving as if he’s one with the shadows.

  The light behind my closed eyes darkens a few seconds later, and I know he’s looming over me because all the little hairs on my body stand on end, pointing in his direction like he’s magnet.

  Even now, my body is drawn to him despite all the shit in my head.

  Time slows to a standstill as he stands beside the bed.

  A shiver crawls down my spine as I feel the weight of his eyes upon me.

  Is he going to do something psycho? Like try to smother me in my sleep?

  Just as I have that thought, the covers are suddenly ripped off me.

  I shriek and flail as he grabs me and hauls me up in his arms.

  “What are you doing?!” I demand.

  Squeezing me against his chest, his nostrils flare before he grumbles like he’s annoyed, “Carrying you to our bed.”

  There’s that word again. Not his. Not mine.

  Ours.

  “I’m perfectly happy with this bed!” I protest as he carries me out of the room and into his.

  Jaw tightening, James doesn’t respond. He just marches right up to his bed and dumps me on it.

  Landing on my hands and stomach, I push up and brush the hair out of my eyes.

  Only to see James standing beside me, unbuttoning and removing his suit jacket.

  A little nervous thrill courses through my body.

  And it’s wrong, so very wrong.

  I shouldn’t find the sight of him removing his suit jacket thrilling. Especially when I’m afraid he might kill me.

  But there’s something about his hands that’s incredibly sexy.

  Fuck, I’m seriously losing it.

  What is this man doing to me?

  I’ve never found a man’s hands sexy before. They’re just hands…

  But other men don’t have hands like his. Not only big and strong, but incredibly deft as they flick through his buttons.

  Hating myself for what I’m thinking, what I’m feeling, I start to scoot off the bed, totally intending to make a run for it when he stops me with a warning.

  “I wouldn’t do that.”

  Tossing his suit jacket onto a chair, he begins to work on the cufflinks on his white shirt.

  I tip my chin up and give him my best glare, hoping it will hide how anxious I am. “I’m not sleeping in here with you.”

  Cufflinks removed, James loosens the tie at his throat and says, “This isn’t up for discussion.”

  I gasp at his audacity. “Excuse me?!”

  Who the hell died and made him my—

  Fuck.

  I shove that thought away and keep my ass firmly planted on the bed.

  Tugging his black tie out of his collar, there’s no hint of humor in his eyes.

  No hint of a smirk on his lips as he says seriously, “It’s not up for discussion, Sophia. You’ll sleep where I tell you to.”

  I gasp again, sucking it in shrilly this time, ready to lay into him.

  “I saw what you did to the window.”

  Shit.

  All the steam goes out of me, chilled by the worry that he might punish or hurt me for that.

  James looks thoughtfully down at the black tie in his hand, as if he’s considering using it for something.

  My heart and thoughts go wild.

  He better not be thinking about tying me up or something else stupid.

  “You tried to run, Sophia. You tried to run from me, the man who is keeping you safe.”

  He looks up at me and there’s so much anger in his eyes and on his face, it takes my breath away.

  He’s delusional. Utterly delusional.

  Somehow he’s managed to convince himself that he truly is keeping me safe. There’s no doubt about it, he actually believes it.

  He’s living in some strange fantasyland.

  If anything, he’s put me in extreme danger. I was safe before he showed up, protected my father’s shield. That’s probably gone now after what he did to Trent.

  At best, I’ll be considered an accomplice to whatever he’s up to. At worst, I’ll be considered a traitor to the family I’ve known all my life.

  Either way, I’m screwed thanks to him.

  “You’re very lucky that window didn’t break. If you would have made it outside and I had to chase you…”

  Tossing his necktie on the chair, he starts to unbutton his shirt, revealing his throat then his chest.

  His threat lingers in the air as I watch him disrobe. Watch him shed the suit of a civilized man into something more dangerous.

  Something more primal.

  I clear my throat, trying to get my thoughts in order as he reaches the waist of his trousers and yanks his shirt free.

  I know I need to tread carefully here, he’s bigger, stronger, and crazier than me, but maybe I can talk some reason into him.

  It’s worth a shot. It’s not like I have anything else to lose…

  “You keep saying that,” I murmur, unable to tear my eyes away as he shrugs out of his shirt and tosses it on the chair.

  “Oh?” He cocks a dark brow, intentionally or unintentionally flexing his chest muscles. “Saying what?”

  I resist the urge to lick my lips nervously, knowing that will only draw unwanted attention to them. “Saying you’re keeping me safe.”

  “Because I am,” he states firmly.

  “Keeping me safe from what, James? You still haven’t explained what you’re keeping me safe from.”

  He looks a little taken aback by the question then his eyes slide to the side as he bends over and removes his shoes and socks. “From every stupid motherfucker out there that would try to hurt you.”

  Sensing my opportunity, I decide to go for it. Decide to lay the flaws in his logic out in the open.

  “Who wants to hurt me? Nobody wants to hurt me, James. You’re the one who’s locked me up like a prisoner while I’m grieving. You practically kidnapped me from my father’s funeral.”

  James kicks his shoes away and shakes his head in denial.

  “There’s no one out there that wants to hurt me. The only person hurting me is you.”

  James shakes his head again, a look of amused disbelief on his face. Like he knows something I don’t know.

  Until I say, “You need to let me go.”

  Straightening almost instantly, he starts to reach for me but pulls back as I flinch away.

  Breathing deeply, he seems to struggle with himself. Struggle with some inner demon.

  Fisting his hands at his sid
e, his voice drops to a growl. “No.”

  My eyes drop to his hands and the memory of him yanking his hand away when I tried to reach for him comes back to me.

  The anger I still harbor over that emboldens me.

  “No? Seriously? No? You told me yourself, I’m not safe with you.”

  His features pinch with a look of pain. “That was then…”

  “You were right. What’s changed now?”

  James’s nostrils flare then he rips his gaze away from me and starts unbuckling his belt.

  When he doesn’t answer the question, I repeat it. “What’s changed now, James?”

  Ripping the belt angrily out of his trousers, he tosses it behind him, completely missing the chair.

  My throat nearly choking on the words, I answer for him. “My father is dead.”

  He neither confirms nor denies it. He simply pauses for a moment before he starts to unbutton his pants.

  Taking a deep breath, all the muscles in my body tense, ready to spring and flee if needed. This is probably incredibly stupid of me, but now that I’m here, I have to say it. I have to.

  If he did it, I can’t spend another second with him.

  I’d rather fucking die than be stuck here with him.

  “My father is dead and you probably killed him.”

  James freezes, his pants half undone.

  Then he jerks his attention to me, his eyes boring hard into mine. “Is that what you think?”

  I have to bite the inside of my cheek to hold my terror back.

  I want to run, everything inside me screams to run, but now that I see his reaction, I’m afraid it might incite him.

  Abandoning his zipper, he steps forward and grabs my face, ignoring my flinch this time.

  His fingers wrap around my chin and force me to look up at him. “Is that what you think? You think I killed your father?”

  I squeeze my eyes shut for a moment, fighting off tears.

  This entire situation is so fucked up I can no longer bear it.

  “I told you, I know who you really are,” I say. “And after all of this…”

  I have to stop to take a shuddering breath because it suddenly feels like the walls are closing in on me.

  He’s too close. Too damn close. Taking up too much space inside and outside my head.

  “What am I supposed to believe?” I ask.

  Is this hand touching me a hand that killed my father?