by Lily White
There was nowhere for me to go as Callan crouched down to level his stare on mine, no place for me to hide as he braced a forearm on his bent knee, his fingers stretching out to their full length. But then they curled again, a quick snap into a fist that launched toward me so fast I didn’t have time to scream.
Not that I could get a sound out when his hand locked around my throat and he tugged me forward, my mouth falling open, my lungs struggling to breathe.
His scent was the second attack, the musk and spice wrapping around me until it was the last breath I could take. Callan had trapped his essence inside me while stealing my ability to set it free. And as my knees were dragged across carpet and glass, his heat assaulted me next, the pure, menacing power of his body and the feel of his breath against my cheek.
Lips brushing my ear, he finally spoke to me while my fingers clawed at where he held me in a desperate fight to wrench myself free.
“What, exactly, would you like me to say to you, Lisbeth?”
I winced at the dangerous gentleness of his voice.
My mouth opened and closed like a fish out of water, my lungs on fire from lack of air, but rather than release me as stars began bursting at the corners of my eyes, he squeezed his hand tighter, my pulse pounding against the length of his fingers.
“Did you want me to tell you that I remember everything you did to me when we were young? Did you want the same insults shoved down your throat that you shoved down mine? Or how about I bring my friends in here to make a joke of you so that they can laugh like yours did?”
Pausing, he pulled his face back and grinned at the way I struggled for air, his actions so controlled while I was a pathetic mess with panicked eyes and endless tears.
Voice lowering to a treacherous whisper, he asked, “Is that what you want from me?”
I shook my head, or at least attempted to as the room faded in my peripheral vision, my tongue falling forward in a desperate attempt at breath.
With his other hand, Callan gripped my face to hold my mouth open, his punishing fingers sinking my cheeks between my teeth as he slowly relaxed his hold on my throat and allowed me to breath.
Pulling my face so close to his that his lips brushed against mine, Callan locked his stare to my terrified gaze.
“Or maybe I could fill your mouth like I did Isabelle’s. Maybe I should come down your throat, so that the next time you swallow when I demand it, there will something there for you to taste.”
I’d barely taken a full breath before the air rushed from my lungs again, my body trembling as he held me in place, his head tilting to the side as he watched me struggle.
“Is that what you want, Lisbeth? To taste me?”
It wasn’t like I could answer him with the way his hand crushed my face, wasn’t like I couldn’t shake my head no, or nod with an emphatic yes. I could barely think in that moment, much less react. So, I stared silently instead.
Callan knew it.
He had to.
His expression said every word he wasn’t speaking, his eyes drinking me in while his mouth hovered a teasing inch from mine.
“Our paths have crossed again, Lisbeth. And that’s your fault, not mine. It wasn’t my decision whether to bring you to this house or leave you homeless. And I couldn’t care less about if you’re penniless or not. All I care about is where we are now and what I’ll do to you while I have you. I hope you enjoyed manipulating me when we were young. For abusing me. For laughing with your friends at the poor little servant boy who wasn’t allowed to fight back. This is what he grew into because of you. So, stop thinking you have the right to ask anything of me. Not for me to talk. Not for me to let you go. And not for me to stop hurting you. Because I won’t ask for anything from you. If I want something, I’ll take it. Are we clear?”
I couldn’t respond, couldn’t say a damn thing with my jaw held open and the inside of my cheeks scraping against my teeth. It was impossible for me to do anything except hang where his hand held me in place, but I guess it didn’t matter.
The bastard nodded my head for me, just before his hand released my face and I fell to the ground.
Back on hands and knees, I knew when he’d pushed to his feet again, could see the shadow of his body hovering over me.
“I’m glad you understand. Now clean this mess the fuck up.”
Coughing now that I could breathe again, I clenched my eyes shut as he walked away from me, every step rattling the floor beneath my body until he went quiet. I lifted my head to see he’d retaken his place on the couch, his arms extended over the backrest, his legs stretched out in front of him.
Like a king on his damn throne, Callan sat waiting for me to entertain him.
There was no way in hell I would ask him to talk again, his deep voice still wrapping my bones in warning. He didn’t just hate me for what I’d done to him, Callan wanted to wipe me out of existence.
Something broke inside me at that moment. Not my heart or my pride, something else. I couldn’t put my finger on just what it was, but he somehow knew. And now, as he stared across the room at me waiting for me to clean for him, I stretched my jaw to relieve the pain from the way he’d held me.
I was a Rose.
Just like him.
Regardless of whether he ran this family or not. And even if he had me trapped in place right now, he couldn’t keep me here forever.
There had to be a way out of this, but I wouldn’t find it by poking the beast so much that I got myself killed.
No.
I had to be as devious as him.
He wanted my pride. That much I could tell from the way he watched me. And if that was the only thing that would please the man, I would make damn sure it was the only thing he couldn’t take from me.
Because that’s the truth when it’s all broken down: nobody can take your pride if you’re not willing to give it to them.
They can abuse you. They can make you crawl. They can kill you in the end if that’s what they want.
But they’ll never take what matters most unless they can trick you into hating yourself.
I had shame. And my past wasn’t always pretty. But I wouldn’t allow him to drown me in his bitter hatred, not when I knew I could change.
Callan may be able to make me crawl, but he would never change who I am.
This is what he grew into because of you...
Not like I had apparently changed him.
So, I smiled and pushed myself up. Brushing the hair back from my face, I watched his eyes grow dark. I watched the lines of his expression sharpen as I rolled my shoulders back and straightened my spine because he wouldn’t succeed in wrecking me.
Not like I had wrecked him.
Grabbing the broom and dustpan, I crawled along to sweep up the broken glass, the flowers and their delicate petals. The spilled water soaked my knees as I moved to grab all the fallen candlesticks and everything else. Because I would do the best damn job with pride.
I was a Rose.
Not a weed. Not some wreck of a woman he could crush beneath his boot.
He would never take that from me.
Facing him, I glanced at the last candlestick that had rolled across the floor, its silver surface shining near the foot of the couch. Callan’s stare followed my line of sight, his mouth curling in a dare as his gaze lifted back to me, thick, dark lashes framing whiskey eyes.
Fuck him, I thought. Two could play his games.
He must have forgotten the way he’d followed me around when we were kids, must not have realized I’d always known when he was watching.
He could watch me now. And he could want something he’d never have.
I crawled with my eyes locked to his without shame.
My body straight, my pride in place.
And all he could do was stare.
The memory of our childhood a bitter pill to swallow.
Callan
The expression on Lisbeth’s face said it all.
You won’t hu
rt me.
You won’t knock me down.
You’ll never own me, even if you make me crawl.
We’d see about that.
The woman may have the face of an angel and a body built for sin, but what she didn’t have was the good sense not to wave her red flag in front of a bull.
She only made herself a challenge. One I was more than happy to accept.
While I kept my expression as neutral as possible, Lisbeth attempted to seduce me in the line of her body. In the way she held her head high while approaching me on hands and knees.
It was too bad for her she didn’t understand just how dangerous this game could be.
As soon as she reached for the candlestick near my leg, I moved my foot to crush her fingers against the silver, her pretty mouth falling open as the sole of my boot held her hand in place, my ankle turning just enough to grind the skin.
She whimpered, and those blue eyes flicked up to me. I expected her to fight. Instead, she relaxed her shoulder despite the pain, her arm going limp in front of her.
Still holding her hand in place, I leaned forward to whisper, “Did you want to come closer? I’m not sure you understand the game you’re playing.”
If Lisbeth’s eyes had been daggers, she’d just stabbed me a thousand times. Every one catching me in the heart. As if the organ still beat to hear her name. As if it would be so easy to fend me off.
She would never learn, would she?
Not unless I raised the stakes.
“If you’re so damn brave,” my foot ground down harder, “if you think you can keep your chin up no matter what I do, then keep crawling my way. We’ll see who wins this fight.”
Her eyes narrowed, that pretty mouth falling open on words that only cemented her fate.
“Fuck you. I’m doing what you asked. You never told me I should be crying while doing it.”
My hand struck out to grip Lisbeth’s dress and pull her forward. She didn’t scream. Didn’t flinch. Didn’t break the stare she held on my eyes. Lisbeth’s body shook with fear as I dragged her near, but you wouldn’t know it from the way she glared at me.
And that - that - could not be tolerated.
I’d already pulled my boot from her hand, and when I had her close enough that our faces were nose to nose, she was kneeling between my legs, her full lips a thin line and her expression a mask of hatred.
Good.
I wanted her to feel everything I’d kept inside for the majority of my life. I wanted her to swallow it down until it festered and boiled inside her like a disease that would never be cured.
My voice came out on a gritty whisper, the delicate scent of her wafting beneath my nose.
“How does it feel to be the one on the ground?”
She didn’t respond, didn’t open that pretty mouth again to challenge me with bitter words. But then, she didn’t need to. Not when her silence was answer enough.
Testing her, I released my grip on her dress, my eyes searching her face waiting for her to move away or attempt to run. She did neither.
I didn’t know whether to feel sorry for her or to respect her for that bravery.
Tucking my finger beneath her chin, I tilted her face up to me.
“Your pride is a dangerous thing. Any intelligent person would have tried to move away.”
She swallowed, the motion of her throat drawing my gaze.
“You would have chased me. And with the way my feet are cut up and raw, I’d have no hope of outrunning you.”
My eyes met hers again.
“You wouldn’t be able to outrun me even if your feet weren’t injured. But you’re right that I wouldn’t let you leave. Still, that doesn’t excuse the show of pride.”
“It’s all I have left. I’ll be damned to give it up so easily.”
I laughed, a single bark of sound bursting from my lips before I could stop it.
“That only makes it more fun.”
Pulling my phone from my pocket, I hit speed dial and held it to my ear. My eyes never left Lisbeth’s as it rang on the other end, a clipped voice answering within seconds.
“Mr. Rose. Is everything okay? Has Lisbeth not arrived?”
I ran my fingers up the side of her face to palm her cheek, my thumb brushing the fullness of her bottom lip. She didn’t flinch or attempt to pull away.
It only made her as foolish as she was beautiful.
“Lisbeth is here now, but I’d like to give her another promotion.”
Her eyes widened while Edward made that odd choked sound again. I wondered what was caught in the asshole’s throat.
“A promotion? Why? She hasn’t completed her training.”
“She’s being given a new position.”
Curling my thumb, I pulled her bottom lip down, sweeping the pad along the inside. Her teeth were clenched shut, her jaw so tight, I could feel the knot of muscle against my hand.
“And what position is that? Cleaning the family suites is as high as it gets. Not that she deserves it.”
Tapping the tip of my fingernail against her teeth, I smiled.
“She’ll be my personal servant. No training necessary. I’m sure after having one herself for so long, Lisbeth knows exactly what’s required of her.”
Edward was spluttering as Lisbeth’s eyes narrowed just a fraction.
“There are no personal servants in this house pursuant to your rules.”
“I’ve changed my mind. Have Lisbeth’s room cleaned out and her stuff brought to my suite. She’ll be staying here with me at night.”
“Mr. Rose-“
“Are you planning on questioning me again, Edward?”
The line went silent for a second.
“No, sir. I’ll have her room cleaned out immediately.”
“Thank you.”
Hitting the button, I tossed the phone on the couch cushion beside me.
Lisbeth remained quiet, but her eyes screamed every thought racing through her pretty head.
“We’ll see how much of that pride you have left when I’m done with you.”
I tapped her cheek and stood to my feet, her body falling back against the coffee table as I stepped away.
“Raping me won’t strip me of anything,” she said. “It’ll only make you more of a monster.”
Chuckling at her assumption, I twisted around to look down at her. “Who said anything about raping you?”
Her eyes narrowed into tiny slits, the skin of her cheeks a heated pink. “I saw those women when you took me to the lower floors. I saw what you did to that woman in the gym.”
“You’re welcome for that,” I answered.
“For what?”
“Making you enjoy it. Don’t think I missed how you swallowed when I came down her throat.”
Visibly startled, Lisbeth shook her head and recovered the pissed off expression.
“I was just trying to keep from throwing up.”
My lips curled.
“Sure you were. And nobody’s raping you. I don’t want you in my bed.”
Surprise softened her face. “You’re giving me a guest room?”
“No.”
“Then where will I sleep?”
“We’ll get to that when the time comes. For now,” my foot caught the candlestick and kicked it toward her, “finish cleaning up. Franklin will have a shit fit if he returns to see you threw a temper tantrum and broke all his precious things.”
Her mouth opened to argue, but I spun on her and leaned down to slap my hand over her mouth.
“Don’t bother claiming it was me. It’s my word against yours. Not that it matters. I’ll be breaking more as the days roll on. Let’s just hope you’re not one of them.”
With that, I walked off to leave her to the mess, a sense of calm settling my shoulders that I hadn’t felt in months.
Who knew Lisbeth would help ease the strain of waiting for my next fight?
If she kept this up, I wasn’t sure I’d ever let her go.
Not
if I could help it.
“You’re an asshole,” she hissed at my back.
I laughed as I paused in the doorway of my room and turned back to her.
“Save your breath, beautiful. I’m only getting started.”
Lisbeth
We’ll get to that when the time comes...
It came right after my bags were dragged upstairs and delivered to Callan’s room, four perfectly pressed uniforms also delivered so that I would always be in a proper state of attire. In truth, I didn’t give a damn about how I looked or who I impressed in this Hellscape of a new life, but that wouldn’t matter.
Not to Callan.
Once we were alone again, Callan directed me into his bathroom, tossed a first aid kit at my feet and demanded I tend to the injuries again.
Refusing would have been stupid. Infection wouldn’t hurt him as much as it hurt me, so while he watched, I took off my shoes and carefully unwrapped my feet. The old bandages were pink from the seepage of blood, but I was allowed to sit on the edge of the bathtub and run my feet under warm water, allowed to clean them with soap and bandage them again.
When that was done, I was led to Callan’s bedroom, my body hesitating in the doorway because the room was a mix of black and grey, the only accents a shine of chrome here or there.
It was like walking into velvet midnight, the curtains across the large windows as black as Callan’s soul, the linens on the massive bed the same stygian shade. I’d stared at the wrought iron headboard that mimicked the gates of the Rose estate with its design of twisting vines and sharp thorns, a set of leather straps hanging loose where I assumed hands could be bound.
Beneath the bed was another sea of black over white marble, the rug supple and soft, but so damn dark that it would be like stepping into a bottomless pit, your heart trapped in your throat while you never stopped falling.
My feet wouldn’t move to shuttle me forward, and while Callan disappeared into a large walk in closet, I studied the room and wondered what horrors had occurred here.
My mind was back in that dungeon, hidden in the lower levels and I wondered how many of those poor women had been dragged up here and forced to submit to his will.