He sat up like he'd been awake the whole time and reached for his phone.
I caught a glimpse of the name Remmington on the screen. When he answered, I attempted to move away, but he wrapped an arm around my waist and held me in place.
"Is it done?" he asked whoever was on the other line.
"Everything is handled." I heard a baritone voice reply and couldn't stop myself from trying to hear more.
What did that mean?
"Send the routing information, and I'll wire a deposit," Pierce finally said after a few blunt back and forth sentences. I tried to follow his conversation but it didn’t really make any sense. It sounded sketchy.
He ended his phone call and pressed a gentle kiss on my neck. Exhaling a small breath, I leaned back into him. If I could erase that phone call, ignore the fact Jason had just been shot execution style, and forget Pierce kidnapped me, this would be a normal morning.
He forced me down to my back and covered my body with his. We stared at one another, searching each other's eyes for our own reasons.
"Who was that?"
I didn't really care who he was talking to unless it directly involved me, but I couldn't take him staring down at me like he could see all my secrets.
"Someone with a personal company I invest in. I don't hide everything from you," he added when he saw my expression.
"What kind of personal company?"
"One that has connections,” he vaguely answered.
Chewing my lower lip, I wrapped my arms around his neck. This gorgeous asshole was mine—at least for a few precious seconds. As if he could read my mind, he gave me a roguish smile.
"After breakfast, we need to leave. Where we're going is a long drive." He dropped his mouth to my chest and began kissing downwards.
"So what are you doing then?"
"I said after breakfast." He gave me a smoldering look before moving his mouth between my legs.
Every time I moved, my clit tingled and I ached for him all over again. He'd licked, sucked, and fingered me until I begged him to stop. Then he fucked me hard enough to leave a bruise on my cervix. We hadn't really spoken beyond that. He was back in his three-piece suit and I was back to feeling out of place.
"Your thoughts are much louder than the silence," he commented ten minutes into our drive. "Talk to me."
"Why? You aren't going to tell me anything."
"In two weeks," he began, "my aunt, grandmother, and cousin will be taking you dress shopping. If you don't piss me off, I'll let Abbi come with you."
I opened my mouth to respond and quickly snapped it back shut, seconds away from doing the very thing he just told me not to. Just like that, the night we spent together was crushed into nothing. I'd never be okay with the control he had over my life.
"Open this." He dropped a black wallet onto my lap, pulling me from my inner ramblings. I lifted it up and flipped it open. He had a limitless credit card and a debit to match, which wasn't surprising.
What was surprising, however, was the picture on the left side of his wallet. I stared at her round face, olive shaped indigo eyes, and took note of the striped bow in her hair.
"You...you have a daughter." Not a question. A statement. There was no denying her resemblance to him.
"I had a little sister. Her name was Chloe.”
He referred to her in past tense. I wasn't sure what to say so I kept quiet. When people spoke of the Serbans, not once had it surfaced that there had been a little girl.
"Pretty," I said after a few minutes, dropping his wallet back into his lap. From my tone, he could tell I was already a million miles away, lost back in my thoughts. He didn't elaborate any further and I wasn't ready to ask, unsure if the answers were something I could handle. I had a gut feeling I wasn’t going to like whatever they were, and that was the ironic gist of all this.
He purposely danced around my questions because he knew I wasn't ready for the truth. It was even more blatantly obvious that Pierce didn't hate me, because in his own twisted way, he always protected me.
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
"I need you to listen carefully," he began, taking the next exit and coasting off the highway, "The place we’re going...Rebel, these men are far worse than I am. And that should tell you everything you need to know."
A feeling of dread bloomed in my stomach. The fact he was warning me was a clear indicator that we weren't going for a simple afternoon tea.
"So, why did you bring me? How screwed up are we talking, because you're a bit of a basket case."
He shot me an annoyed look. I bit my lip to stifle a laugh.
"I'm sorry, I'll be serious."
"Rebel, I promise nothing will ever hurt you as long as you're with me, but it would be beneficial to both of us if you kept your smart ass mouth shut and didn't provoke anyone. Don't comment on anything you see, and for fuck’s sake, act like a lady."
Act like a lady? I scowled at him.
"If I'm supposed to be practically invisible, why did you even bring me?"
“Think back on what I first told you and that's your answer."
Neither of us said another word. I tried to think back on all the warped shit he'd said to me. One line flashed through my head–the part of his speech that had stuck with me ever since he explained the document I signed.
Be what he needs me to be. But what if I couldn’t do that?
Eventually, he turned off onto a private road and approached a neighborhood that could only be described as extreme upper-class. There didn’t seem to be a ton of houses in the gated community, but that was because they took up too much space.
Pierce maneuvered his car around a moving truck and slowed at a set of iron gates. A large, intricate R was embellished on the front of them. I recognized it immediately. We were in Remmington Square…and since Pierce could never shock me just a little bit, he had to go all out by taking me to their actual goddamn house.
"The Remmingtons? Are you freaking kidding me?"
"Now you know why I warned you," he commented as the gates swung open for his car to pass through.
If my nerves were unstable before, they were now all over the place. I wasn't afraid of much, and I knew what went on behind the scenes, but the Remmingtons were at the tippy top of the power chain. They were like a mini fucking Rothschild. Their bloodline went way back and was spread out all over the place. Some had begun to use alias names to remain anonymous in their ploys.
The fact Pierce knew them well enough to drive to one of their homes and go inside did not sit well with me. I knew he did some unsavory things and dealt with some questionable people. But this? I was ready to high-tail it out of his car and foot it back home. These people didn’t operate on the same level as the suits in our world, they were worse. Much worse, with their own playing field.
How did Pierce manage to mix the two?
He parked, cut the ignition, got out, and came around to open my door, still not saying a word.
“Who the hell are you?” I absentmindedly asked, staring at his offered hand.
“I’m yours.”
I blinked, swearing I’d just misheard him. He reached down and grasped my hand, helping me out of the car.
We didn't have to knock; the door swung open before we even reached it. A man dressed in all black stood before us. His eyes were hidden behind a pair of dark sunglasses, and he had a gun in his hand.
"Serban, it's good to see you, Sir." a grin broke out on the man's face, and he quickly stepped aside.
So, he’s more than familiar with them? God, who is he? This went so far beyond the connections Seth had and the things he did.
I hated to even admit it to myself, but somehow I just knew I was about to be dragged further into a conspiracy of bullshit.
The home was massive, gleaming marble floors, cathedral style ceilings, and expensive furniture that matched the dark jewel-colored tones of the rest of the house.
I didn't get to look around for a long. A throat cleared, an
d I glanced over to see a man in a charcoal colored suit coming towards us.
Pierce took my hand in his and introduced us.
"Elias, this is Willow," Pierce said.
Elias. I’d heard that name before. He was one of the notorious Remmington boys.
The younger brother if memory served me correctly. It was hard to hold his eyes, they were nearly as intense as Pierce’s. He studied me for a few silent seconds before what looked like approval reflected back at me.
"For one of Louie’s, she's gorgeous." Elias spoke directly over my head. I furrowed my brows. Who was Louie? Glancing at Pierce for some clarification, his gaze was locked with Elias’. Some type of silent communication was going on. It dawned on me that he was keeping this from me as well. Surprise, surprise.
"Come, let's go to the study. Mateo is waiting," Elias said.
Mateo—Mateo Remmington. A tremor ran up my spine. I did not want to be alone in a room with the three of them and whatever secret they shared.
The last time I was alone with a good-looking, dangerous man, he wrapped his hand around my throat and kidnapped me.
Whatever this whole shebang was that had to do with me, I wasn't sure I wanted to know anymore—unless it was still about Seth, who may or may not have killed my sister, and who also said Pierce was a liar. Why was everything so fucking complicated?
My hand was warm and held tightly inside Pierce's. We walked down a long hall to where an open pair of doors was. Inside the room were tall bookshelves, a lit fireplace, russet brown leather furniture, and a huge desk. Mateo rose when we entered.
"Pierce." He smiled brightly and came to give him a man-hug before turning to me, and I caught glimpse of a thick wedding band. Proof I’d been Pierce’s willing‑unwilling captive for quite some time.
No way in hell was it quiet news this man had gotten married. I wondered who his wife was.
"You grew up to be a beautiful girl. Lucky man," he added with a wink.
There wasn't anything sexual about his delivery, but I had no idea where I'd personally met him before. Surely I would have remembered that? Aside from Pierce, he and his brother were the most attractive men I’d ever seen in my life. And that said a lot.
I gave him a tight smile and kept my mouth shut. It was better to watch and assess rather than knee Pierce in the balls again and demand answers.
"Have a seat," Elias said from behind us, closing the study room doors. With our hands still intertwined, Pierce led me to one of the leather sofas and sat us side by side. There was a brief lapse of silence before Mateo began to speak.
"I assume you already made the deposit?"
"It was done a few hours ago. Have you made any leeway?"
I understood nothing. A soft rap on the door interrupted Mateo mid-sentence.
"Excuse me." He stood and strode to the doors, flinging them open.
Someone in the hall began speaking to him in what I believed was Portugese. In the midst of their rapid fire conversation, what sounded like a pained groan reached my ears. I remembered Pierce’s earlier words to not focus on anything that was done around me. The sounds behind me were making that a hard order to follow. Pierce, as perceptive as always, rested his warm hand on my thigh.
I was wearing a simple maroon dress that hit just above the knee. When he started massaging imaginary circles into my skin, it sent an ache straight between my legs.
I kept my eyes on the dark oak coffee table, feeling Elias’ on us.
Mateo returned, but he wasn't alone. There were three men with him. Two held up a battered man who could barely stand.
A wave of déjà vu washed over me. The man's face was black and blue, and he was stripped down to nothing but his slacks. Ugly infected wounds covered his torso. I could count the ribs showing through his sunken skin. The sight of him was revolting. I gritted my teeth together, forcing myself to keep quiet.
There would never be a point in time when torturing another human being was okay to me. I knew it could be worse. I could be seeing another girl sold off to a savage or traded to pay a debt. I rather felt like one of those myself.
"Jensen, happy to see you again," Pierce mused from beside me, sounding way too pleased about this.
"Jensen thought it would be okay to help himself to some pickup money," Mateo explained.
"Kneel." he nudged Jensen in the back of the leg, forcing his week knees to buckle. I tried to push Pierce's hand off me. He stopping moving his fingers and dug into my skin. I bit my tongue to suppress my hiss of pain and to prevent myself from calling him a derogatory name.
"Do you think this will work?" Pierce leaned forward, keeping his death grip on my thigh.
"Well, we don't need him anymore, anyway. We have her." Elias nodded to me. Had me for what? Before I could ponder his words too long, he reached down and grabbed Jensen's hand, snapping one of his long fingers back one by one with a scary ease.
My stomach lurched as the sound of breaking bone and a scream of agony filled the air.
I diverted my attention away from the oddly angled digits, disgusted. Jensen held his injured hand to his chest, full blown sobs wracking his frail body.
"How long do you think it will take him to show up?" Mateo asked, paying no attention to the man in the middle of the floor.
"Shut the fuck up," Elias snapped, kneeing Jensen in the back of the head.
I inwardly cringed and forced myself to focus on an old globe across the room.
"Sooner rather than later," Pierce answered.
"Who is Louie?" I couldn't sit there any longer and pretend to be oblivious when they were talking about me. An elongated silence greeted my question.
Pierce sighed. "He's your father." There was no remorse detected in his tone for lying to me. Again. I shoved his hand off my thigh and glared. Had I not just asked him if he knew my father the night before?
"You're a fucking asshole." I stood up and made my way out of the room, not caring how upset he got. I needed air. There was a lapse of silence, and then both Remmintons laughed in amusement. It followed me all the way to the front door.
Three hours.
That's how long he left me stewing in his car. I needed to use the bathroom, my stomach kept growling, and I was in desperate need of some Motrin.
Being alone with only your thoughts can be so damn depressing. Running from the things inside my head was impossible. My anger had just begun to temper when Pierce walked out, laughing at something Mateo said. A blonde had joined them. She gave him a hug that looked way to friendly, and a kiss on the cheek.
My frustrations grew stronger the closer he got. He climbed inside, smelling faintly of liquor and something spicy. Without a word, he started the car and pulled out of the driveway.
"You really are a drama queen. You know that?" He sounded amused. I stared at him slack-jawed. Was he serious?
"You said you didn't know my father. You lied to me!"
"I'm not a liar. You asked me if I knew your father. I don't know him. However, I do know who he is."
He glanced over at me with a smug smirk on his face. My mouth opened and closed, but no words came out.
"If I had known that would get you to shut up, I'd have used it a long time ago. No. Never mind. I like using my cock to do it." He shrugged, keeping his gaze straight ahead. I dug my nails into my palms until it hurt. He was back to his usual asshole self: cold and cocky. If he weren't driving, I would have tackled him and pummeled his head in.
By the time we reached his house, my body was taut with anger. He opened his mouth to say something, but I scrambled out of the car and up to the front door.
Pierce approached slowly. I could feel his eyes burning holes into me.
Taking his sweet time, he used an odd looking key to open the door. I stepped back inside my pretty prison, hoping to God he would leave me alone.
I had taken four steps before the door was slamming behind me, the lock was engaging, and Pierce was turning me around with a firm grip on my wrist.
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"You did everything I told you not to do," he sighed.
"Fuck you," I snapped.
His deep blue eyes bored into mine, a sardonic smile slowly spreading across his face.
"You know, I think I will."
"That wasn't an invitation." I jerked to get away from him, and he easily let me go. My equilibrium was thrown, causing me to land on my ass. He watched me with an amused glint in his eye, slowly stalking towards me. I crab-walked backward before turning to make a stealthy dash away.
"No, no, no," Pierce tsked, wrapping his arms around my waist.
I twisted around, shoving against him. He let me go again, this time laughing when I tripped over my own two feet.
"I still can't figure out if the fire in you is sexy or dangerously reckless, whatever it is. I never want to put it out." Standing over me, he cocked his head and looked down, beginning to remove his clothes.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
She looked at me with hooded eyes.
I could read her like an open book. She was angry, enraged. But her body was begging me to ravage it on the floor. And who was I to ignore my gorgeous fiancée needing a thorough fuck? Lurching down, I grabbed her ankles and dragged her towards me.
A small gasp escaped from her mouth, deep chocolate eyes flickered between my face and my cock.
I smirked, acutely aware of how endowed I was and how much she loved that one specific part of me just a little more than the rest—because whether she admitted it or not, I knew the truth. Willow had fallen for me the second my hand was wrapped around her throat.
"Why do you do this?" Her voice was full of anger and hurt.
I ignored it, grabbing the back of her neck and bringing her mouth to mine. I settled between her thighs, easily spreading her wide. Her lacy underwear was gone within seconds, the dress she had on shoved up, and the top pulled down, exposing her prefect breasts.
"Pierce, we need to—"
I bit down on her, causing her sentence to end with a whimper.
She wrapped her arms around my neck and tugged at my hair. Swirling the tip of my tongue around hers, I savored how sweet she tasted. Hands on her silky-smooth thighs, I ran the tip of my cock up and down her slit, soaking the head with her juices. I flexed my hips, slowly sinking into her tight cunt.
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