“Call me that one more time and I swear you’ll be drinking soup out of a straw for the rest of your life.”
She laughs. “I can’t work out if slumming it in Aston Creek with guys like Slade turned you into this hard version of yourself, or if it was all the other shit.”
“All the other shit,” I tell her. “And believe me, there’s certainly no slumming in Aston Creek. That’s my home and I love it.”
“Yeah,” she scoffs. “I can see why. Do all the guys look like him or are you just special?”
I grin wide, thinking of Damian. “Both. I’m special as all hell and they all look like him, but mine is the best by far, like so far. He’s…he’s amazing.”
Luce’s eyes go wide. “Oh, no. You’re in love with him, aren’t you?”
I laugh. “Yeah, I am.”
“You realize he looks like a criminal, right? I mean, he showed up on my doorstep and I nearly died. I-”
“Wait,” I cut her off. “What do you mean he showed up on your doorstep?”
Luce cringes. “Sorry, I just sort of jumped ahead, didn’t I?” I nod and she thankfully continues. “After he was shot, he came to my place. I think he must have called Blake and asked him where he could go. He was trying to avoid hospitals so he could go back and get you sooner and assuming I’m probably one of the only people who would have helped him, Blake gave him my address. He showed up with blood everywhere and just barged into my home, not giving a shit about getting all his blood on it. I swear, it’s been nearly two weeks and I keep finding drops everywhere. I had to rearrange the cushions on the sofa to hide a blood-stain until a replacement could come. Mom nearly killed me.”
I can’t help the grin on my face, able to picture the moment with 100% clarity. Slade would have busted down the doors, demanded she stitched him back up and then left with his head held high while leaving a big mess behind.
God, I love him so damn much.
“How was he when he first showed up?”
She shakes her head. “I’m not going to lie,” she warns. “It wasn’t good. He’d lost a lot of blood. I’m no medical expert or anything, but I’m pretty sure he was close to passing out, but that could have been from either the pain or blood loss. He looked really dizzy and just getting him to sit his stubborn ass down so I could take care of him was a whole new challenge. I had to sit on his back and fish the bullet out of him. It was disgusting.”
My heart breaks. I hate hearing about his pain, but it’s a hell of a better option than hearing about his death. If he felt pain, that means he’s still alive, so I’ll welcome it with open arms.
“In other news,” she says with a soft laugh. “He’s fucking hilarious when he’s drunk on vodka.”
“What?” I laugh as confusion begins to baffle me. “You got him drunk? I don’t think I’ve ever seen him drunk.”
“Hey, I didn’t get him drunk,” she defends, throwing her hands up in innocence. “I had the vodka there to clean out the gunshot wound and the stupid fucker kept drinking it to numb the pain. I don’t think it worked though. Pulling that bullet out of his back wasn’t pretty.”
I lean in and pull her into a tight hug. “Thank you,” I whisper, thinking of her softer side; the one that doesn’t handle gruesome very well. “I know that couldn’t have been easy.”
“It wasn’t,” she agrees. “It’s not every day some gangster looking dude shows up on your doorstep with a bullet hole in his back.”
“You realize he’s not a criminal, right?”
“Whatever you say,” she says with a grin, pulling back and looking at me. Her expression softens and it’s quickly replaced with a heaviness that I’m not prepared for. “We tried,” she whispers. “Every day we’ve been trying to get in there to get you out, but we got nowhere. I’ve been trying to smuggle you a phone as well, but it’s impossible. It’s like Fort Knox. Slade and Damian have practically been living in my pool house just so they can be close if you need them. I’ve even met Shaylee and Nessa a few times too. I swear, between the two boys, they’ve been shot at three times. They’re fucking lucky that they’re not dead. That’s why there’s been so much security during this whole joke of a wedding. They were expecting them.”
My mouth drops as I listen to her recap of the past twelve days. They’ve been shot at three times? This is fucking ridiculous, but despite the shock coursing through my body, I find something settling within me. Ever since seeing Slade’s face in the church, I’ve been wondering why he never came back. Don’t get me wrong, him coming back time and time again with Damian is simply moronic, but it’s a sign that he’s not giving up and that’s all I need to keep me going.
I was a fool to assume I’d lost him. I should have known that not even a bullet would be able to stop Slade Cruz.
Luce reaches out and takes my hand in hers. “I’m so sorry,” she tells me. “I tried to stop it. We both did but there’s nothing I could do. Lucien came to me yesterday and warned that if I said anything during the ceremony or tried to screw things up, he was going to hurt my mom and dad, and I just…”
“Hey,” I say as her eyes begin to fill with tears. “Stop. This is on me. I don’t want you trying to involve yourself or trying to save me. I would never forgive myself if you or your family was to get hurt because of this.”
“But…”
“No. This is my fight, all I need you to do is be waiting on the other side when I finally get out of this mess.”
“You know I will be.”
I nod. “I don’t doubt you for one second.”
Luce gives me a warm smile before her eyes start flicking around the room. “I, um…kind of have something for you,” she says lowering her voice. “I just don’t know how to give it to you without causing some kind of shootout.”
My brows furrow as I watch her, checking the positions of all the guards around. “What are you talking about?”
A sly grin spreads across her face. “Slade kind of strapped your dad’s knife to my thigh as a plan B. You know, just in case he couldn’t get you out of the church. He wanted you to have something to help you from the inside while we’re trying on the outside.”
My eyes bug out of my head. “You have my knife?”
She nods. “Yeah, it makes me feel like some kind of badass assassin. I love it, but I don’t know how to get it to you without looking too obvious. I mean, just having it strapped there is about as far as my assassin skills go.”
I hold back a laugh, trying not to draw any extra attention to us, as let’s face it. I really want that knife. In fact, I don’t just want it, I need it.
“Okay,” I tell her. “I have a plan but you’re not going to like it and you’ll most likely get yourself kicked out.”
“Seriously?” she grins. “I tackled the groom to the ground and my daddy punched him yet we’re still here. Trust me, I could burn this place to the ground and still be offered desert.”
“Good point,” I laugh, shaking my head. This is all Maria. Lucien and Marcus would have thrown them out but seeing an empty space at a table would have driven Maria to insanity. “So, I’m going to need you to start gagging and then pretend to throw up in the ice bucket under the table.”
“What?” she shrieks, horrified.
“If you’re throwing up under the table, your hands will be able to do whatever they want.”
Understanding crosses her features and not a second later her bottom lip pouts out and her hand falls to her stomach. “Shit, Sky. I don’t feel too good. I think the crab was bad.”
A few people at close tables start looking at Luce in disgust while others begin pushing their plates away. Her hand goes to her mouth as her eyes bug out. “Oh, no,” she gasps, reaching for the wine bucket. She grabs the wine and hastily drops it on the table before emptying the ice out, making sure to create the biggest mess possible.
Ice spills over the edge of the table and slides far and wide over the dance floor. Water drenches the table cloth and destroys Mari
a’s precious table setting. I hold back from howling with laughter, even more so when the mess has my glass of red wine spilling all over my dress.
Luce’s head falls under the table as people start rushing in to help fix the situation. “Make it quick. We only have a few seconds,” I tell her under my breath, acting horrified by the red wine on my dress and the hurling girl beside me.
Maria screams blue murder and runs.
I hastily start making a show of cleaning up the table while all sorts of disgusting noises come from Luce under it. I feel her hand slip under my dress but with so much material to get through, she ends up strapping the knife to my ankle and making all sorts of relief settle my racing heart.
Luckily everyone remains on the opposite side of the table, reaching over to help me clean up as Luce straightens in her seat, putting on a great sick act.
She steals a napkin and puts on a show of wiping her face before dumping it in the empty ice bucket to cover the fact that there’s absolutely nothing in it.
Luce’s mom comes shuffling in, looking embarrassed by the mess. “Oh, honey,” she says, grabbing Luce’s arm and pulling her to her feet. “You look dreadful. Are you alright?”
Maria gapes in horror. “Is she alright?” she shrieks. “She just destroyed a two hundred-thousand-dollar dress. You will be paying for that.”
“No,” Luce says, her brows pulling down and her hand on her stomach. “You fed your guests bad crab. We shouldn’t have to pay for your mistake. We should talk to the media. This whole wedding has been a fiasco. First, there was the scuffle in the church and now this.”
Fuck, yeah. Go, Luce!
Her mom raises her chin, completely agreeing with her daughter. “Lucy is right. You should be ashamed. What an embarrassment.” She puts her arm around her daughter and starts pulling her away. “Come on, dear. Let’s get you to a doctor. These people have poisoned you.”
I don’t think I have ever experienced such a beautiful takedown of Maria Valentine in my life. That was a moment I plan on cherishing until my dying days.
It sucks that Luce is now gone and that I have Maria trying to play the doting parent in front of her friends, fixing my dress as best she can, but I don’t even care because Luce has left me with the best gift ever; a fighting chance.
Chapter 13
Marcus walks through the door of his ridiculously big mansion. I mean, Maria and Lucien’s place is a fucking joke with its size, but this is three times as big. This place screams ‘I’m an arrogant asshole’ and now the arrogant asshole’s house is mine.
“Hurry up,” Marcus scowls as I dawdle in behind him, so exhausted from the massive day. My whole body aches but I know the excitement has only just begun. He’s going to insist on touching me tonight. After all, he just signed on the dotted line and paid a lot of money for me. He’s going to want to reap the rewards.
It’s going to be fun putting my trusty knife to good use. I wonder if mom and dad would be proud? Hell, I know Blake and Slade would be.
I follow him in through the massive front doors as a driver takes off in his Ferrari, probably to go and park it in the garage which no doubt houses hundreds of expensive cars.
We walk in through a massive foyer and I roll my eyes at the double staircase that wraps around both sides of the foyer. This is insane and while it might be impressive, it smells like desperation, pain, and money.
The house is in pristine order with maids shuffling around, even at three in the morning. There isn’t a dust mite in sight and as we’re noticed, they instantly stop their work, turn and bow their heads.
What kind of weird fuckery is this? Who gets their maids to bow to them?
What have I just gotten myself into?
Marcus walks ahead, not waiting for me to catch up, just expecting that I’m running along like a good little wifey. “Right, starting first thing in the morning, you’ll be meeting your assistant. She will set you up with your schedule and fill you in on your appointments.”
Okay…that one got me.
“Appointments?”
“Yes. There will be events in which you will be attending in my place, you will have your hair done every two weeks, a beauty appointment, trainer, and dietician. I will also be setting you up with my doctor and getting you on suitable birth control. You will also have a meeting with a stylist tomorrow. Those clothes Maria sent over are disastrous. My wife will not be seen in low-quality clothes.”
My brow raises. Low quality? Maria only wears the best of the best. I doubt that she’s ever stepped foot into Target, actually, she probably wouldn’t even know what Target is. I’d hate to think what Marcus’ version of good quality costs, but what does it matter? He won’t be dressing me up like some kind of doll. I’ll be wearing my ripped jeans and tank like I always do. Hell, maybe I’ll even surprise him and throw on a leather jacket.
“Apart from these appointments, which will be chaperoned by your assistant and my bodyguards, you will be reading up on the latest politics and keeping yourself educated on world issues. This will be done within the walls of my home. At no point are you to step outside of the property gates without my approval. You may venture outside with your trainer or use the pool for exercise. However, the indoor lap pool would be better suited. If you would like to use the swimming facilities, it will be done with modesty. No bikinis or scantily clad clothes. I will not tolerate my staff ogling your body. That is mine.”
Well, shit. I was just about to say that the deal wasn’t all that bad until he had to go and throw in that possessive bullshit. I might technically be married to him, but I am certainly not his. Hell, I bet there are some chicks out there who would willingly marry this guy to reap the benefits of his wealth and possessions, but not me. I prefer my freedom.
“During the day, I work. I start at 7 am and finish at 6 pm. I sometimes work here, sometimes at the office. During these hours, you are not permitted to disturb me. If you need something, you contact your assistant. The only time you are to disturb me during work hours is if you are gravely ill or injured to the point of hospitalization, in which case I need to hold a press conference.”
The fuck?
“If I am working from home, you are not to enter my office and there will be silence throughout the house. Breaking these rules will result in punishment. Is that understood?”
I go to answer with a grunted ‘yes’ but he continues before I get a chance.
“Dinner is at 8 pm in the dining room unless we are entertaining, in that case, we will eat in the grand hall. I assume Maria and Lucien will be stopping by regularly to keep up appearances but I will put an end to that. I cannot stand that woman.”
Well, I guess I can’t complain about that, but what does it matter? I don’t plan on being here long enough to be hosting dinners parties with my rapist and the woman who ordered my parents’ death.
“At 10 pm, you will shower for ten minutes, wash and shampoo with the products provided. Your hair will be blow-dried by 10:30 and you will put on the lingerie and perfume which will be laid out for you on the counter.”
No, no, no…this is not how this bullshit is going to go. I’m not his little housewife who he gets to dress up and fuck every night. Hell, I wouldn’t even play housewife for Slade, unless it was some kind of kinky fantasy. He gets me the way I am. I have too much ambition to spend my days locked up in Marcus’ little rape dungeon.
“As soon as you are ready, you will enter my bedroom and wait for me. I might already be there or you could be waiting an hour or four but you will not leave my room until I tell you. I will then fuck you anyway I see fit. For how long I want and in which way I want. You will scream my name; you will moan and tell me how fucking much you love it. You will either be a dirty little slut or a sweet princess. Whatever I tell you, you do. Is that understood?”
Hell to the fucking no.
“When I am finished with you, you will leave my bed and clean yourself in the hallway bathroom. You may then go to your own room
and sleep until your assistant wakes you at 6.”
Marcus starts making his way up the grand staircase and I glare at his back. “Are you about done with your demands?”
He whips around so fucking fast that I don’t even get a chance to step up onto the bottom step before his hand is at my throat and my back slammed against the wall. “Listen here you little bitch,” he growls, getting right in my face as I struggle to breathe. “You’re mine now and you will do everything I ask of you. You will behave, you will smile and be polite, you will listen when you’re spoken to and you will act when asked to move.”
My eyes turn to slits.
“Why me? You could have any random whore you wanted to come and live in your fucked-up mansion with your bullshit rules. You could have picked one out of some poor town who would have sucked your dick with a smile on her face. Why choose the one that doesn’t want to be here? The one who isn’t impressed by your money, cars, or lifestyle?”
His eyes narrow as his grip tightens on my throat, allowing me only the slightest bit of oxygen. “That’s none of your goddamn business. Now get your ass upstairs and showered. We have a marriage to consummate and I won’t be touching you until you’ve washed this joke of a day off your body.”
I keep staring, not daring to move.
Marcus pulls me back off the wall before slamming me back into it even harder. “I told you to move,” he roars as the staff scatters around as though they can’t see the rich, arrogant pig abusing his new wife, the wife who is still wearing a wine-stained monstrosity. “We can do this the hard way or the easy way, but either way, it’s happening. Make your decision, Skylah, and make it quick because I am not a patient man.”
I swallow hard but with his hand wrapped around my throat, choosing what’s right is a lot harder than it ought to be. His fingers begin to tighten and I reluctantly give in. He won’t hesitate to completely block off my airway until I’m passing out and I’m sure that will leave me waking up to find him already on top of me. I can’t have that.
Real Girl: Aston Creek High (Book 4) Page 9