I had to hand it to my prison guard—he’d brought flavorful things that were easy to turn from separate food groups into a main course.
Normally, I wouldn’t obey him out of principal—no matter he kept twirling the knife with a gleam in his eyes as if daring me to speak out. But normally, I wasn’t starving. My stomach constantly grumbled, empty and ready to eat.
I told myself this meal was for me, and my unfortunate companion would have the leftovers.
Greg sat on the counter, occasionally kicking his leg out to prevent me from moving past, stroking my shoulder and tucking a blonde strand behind my ear.
“You ever think of giving up the corporate world and becoming a stay-at-home mom?” His touch dropped to my breast, squeezing it before I could swat him and continued to the sink to drop the cooked pasta into a colander to drain.
His touch made my heart quake, but I had to remind myself he was just a man. My flesh was just a body; it was repairable. Yes, he’d violate every commandment by taking me forcibly, but I couldn’t focus on that yet.
Only when it happens.
I hated that my mind had accepted when not if.
“No. I’ve been too busy with Belle Elle.” The hot water splashed from the pan down the drain.
Besides, I’m still young. I want to see the world first. I want to explore and be reckless and fall in love.
My insides knotted.
Penn.
Could I have fallen in love with him if he hadn’t lied?
Could I have given up the idea of Nameless to find happiness?
Now, I would never know because I’d never see either Penn or Nameless again.
“You should. Domestic chores suit you.”
“That’s such a sexist thing to say.”
“No, sexist would be that house chores suit all women.” He smirked. “I just said you.”
I rolled my eyes and returned the now drained pasta to the pot where I added sautéed mushrooms, parmesan, and pesto to stir through and warm.
I found comfort in cooking. The method hadn’t changed even if my circumstances had. The recipe still worked even if I was chained in a nightgown waiting to be raped and my business stolen.
“Fuck, watching you cook for me makes me hard.” Greg grabbed his erection. “See what you do to me?”
I had no desire to look. “It makes me sick.”
“That’s because you’re still brain-washed by that bastard, Everett.”
Goosebumps erupted on my skin.
I didn’t know if it was Penn’s domination over my body and the lust I still felt (no matter I wanted to murder him) or the belief that, in some strange way, he would save me even if he was a criminal.
Don’t be so ridiculous.
I didn’t reply, focusing intently on folding in the pesto sauce.
Greg huffed, pushing off from the counter to grab the chain around my wrists and pull me forward. “Come with me.”
“What? But I’m not finished.”
“Doesn’t matter. Two minutes won’t hurt it.”
I had no choice as he pulled me from the kitchen and down the small hallway to the bedroom we’d shared. The bed clothes were tangled; my underwear still on the floor from where he’d kicked them from the bathroom.
He let me go, stepping over the chain wrapped around my ankle (that now snaked down the hallway back the way we’d traveled) to open the wardrobe door. Hanging inside were an array of lingerie and negligées—all completely impractical for making an escape. No shoes, only stockings. No jackets, only bras.
I sighed heavily, fighting depression and tiredness.
This strange role-play helped delete some of the immediate worry I had about my situation. Cooking in chains? It was odd, but at least I wasn’t being hurt. Being washed and cuddled in bed? Awful on many levels but still not pushing the boundaries into horror.
What is he doing?
Why is he dragging this out?
Not knowing was the worst part. I didn’t know when he’d pounce; when he’d demand me to open my legs and let him have me. I didn’t know how much longer I could stay alert and constantly ready to fight.
Eventually, I would tire. I would sleep. And then I’d be at his mercy.
Greg pulled out a small turquoise bag with Tiffany’s logo.
Oh, no.
My heart scrambled into my throat as he placed the bag into my hands. “Open it.”
I backed away, tossing the offending gift onto the bed. I didn’t need to open it to know what was in there. “I don’t want it.”
His jaw clenched as he scooped up the bag, tossed the ring box into his palm, and cracked it open. “Yes, you fucking do, Elle.” Plucking the one carat diamond from the plush box, he grabbed my left hand and jammed the ring onto my engagement finger.
It fit perfectly.
Of course.
Instantly, I wanted to get it off. I’d cut off my own finger to be free of it.
“You’re going to marry me, Elle. You’re going to change your last name to Hobson. Belle Elle will be mine.”
He slithered his arms around my waist, tucking me tight against him. “You’re going to give me a daughter or son, so our families will forever be joined, and Belle Elle will always be mine by right, and then, once you’ve given me everything I want, I’ll let you divorce me.”
His teeth flashed as he chuckled. “But only with a hefty settlement for being the best husband ever. We’ll spread a rumor that you cheated and the sympathy vote will ensure everyone will be on my side while you fade into obscurity.”
He captured my chin, kissing me quick. “Or you could stay married and be my dutiful wife and share in everything I give you.”
I wanted to disinfect my mouth, tear out my tongue, and zip up my lips so he could never kiss me again. But then I wouldn’t be able to tell him what I thought about his ludicrous, monstrous plan.
I laughed in his face, shaking with rage. “Do you believe in fairies, Greg? Because you have to if you think that will ever come true.” I shoved him away, swelling with pride as he stumbled. “Ten million is all you’ll get out of me, and that offer is only valid for the next five minutes. I don’t even know why I’m offering that.” I shrugged, waving the damn chain between my arms. “Who knows? Perhaps, I still see the Greg who helped me pick the right bike when I was eight, or the Greg who helped me move into my apartment.”
Stomping toward him, I stabbed my finger into his chest. “Ten million for the past we share and not a penny more. I’m not marrying you. I’m definitely not bearing your children. And no way in hell are you getting Belle Elle—”
I went to tear the ring off but he clamped his hand over mine. “You remove that diamond and I hurt you.” His threat wasn’t idle. It reeked with cold-hearted promise.
I gulped, letting him pull my fingers away, leaving the ring ensnaring me.
Then, as if he hadn’t just petrified me, he cupped between my legs, his fingers bruising me. “Are you sure I won’t get Belle Elle? Are you sure I won’t get exactly what I want? That I won’t get to fuck you, keep you, steal everything from you? Because it feels like I’m winning.”
Hitting his arm, I scooted backward. My toes landed on the chain, making me wince. “Get away from me.”
He walked with me, his fingers never loosening, curling tighter around my core beneath the stupid negligée. He didn’t let go as I scratched his wrist, tugging for him to let me go.
I repelled backward so fast, I slammed into the wall, giving him the perfect purchase to slap his free hand onto the upright surface by my head and press a finger inside me.
I shuddered in grotesque denial.
I was dry. It hurt. It was brutal rather than blissful.
My mind shattered, begging for Penn and the wizardry of his touch. He made me wet even while he confused me with stories. He made me come even while I denied how much I liked him.
Penn was a master manipulator.
Greg was just the devil.
I
wanted him out of my life and far away from me.
I want him dead.
I shoved him, the chains around my wrists clinking loudly.
He grabbed the metal, hoisting it up, giving my arms no way to disobey before being yanked upright and pinned against the wall.
“This...Elle, your fucking pussy is mine.” His voice became thick and cruel. “I’m going to have you. I’m going to fuck you. I’ve waited as long as I can. You wear my ring, you’ve slept in my bed, I’ve washed you in my shower. You no longer belong to him but me, get it?”
His finger hooked inside, his nail scraping delicate flesh. “I’m going to fuck you the minute lunch is finished.”
Withdrawing his touch, he let me go and pointed at the kitchen. “Now, get in there and finish making me food like a good little wife.”
Chapter Ten
Penn
THE MERC’S ENGINE snarled as I pressed the accelerator as far to the floor as possible.
Thirty-two minutes and Larry still hadn’t called.
But I didn’t care.
I had to stay on the move. Otherwise, I’d fucking take my rage out on an innocent tree and end up hurting myself in the process.
And I was hurt enough.
I didn’t know if I was going in the right direction or wrong. I had no clue if Elle was still safe or if Greg had done something un-fucking-forgivable.
All I had was the hope I’d be on time.
Tearing down a country road, I jumped as my phone ring-tone split the air.
Answering with hands-free, I grunted, “Where am I going, Larry?”
“Cherry Cove, Medina.”
“Hotel or private house?”
“Fishing chalet.”
“His?”
“Not sure. Couldn’t find any records of him buying another property.”
“How do you know she’s there then?”
“He bought another car—under a friend’s name, but he helped secure the finance. The Dodge Charger is equipped with antitheft GPS. I had someone who owed me a favor switch it on. The car is outside the address I’ve sent to your inbox. I used Google maps to see what sort of abode it was.”
“Your sleuthing never fails to impress me.”
Larry’s voice hid a smile. “You can tell me how great I am later. Get her back, Penn, and then you’re fixing this. You’re telling that poor girl everything. You’re going to be honest.”
I bared my teeth but nodded reluctantly, knowing she’d never want to see me again. “Fine.”
I pressed end, downshifted, and grinned at the growling engine as I cannon-fired after Greg.
According to my GPS, I was just over an hour away.
A mere hour until Elle was mine again and then all my lies would be revealed.
But, at least, she would be safe.
I would be fucking heartbroken, but she would be back where she belonged.
Without me in her world.
Chapter Eleven
Elle
THE PASTA SAT like glue in my stomach.
I’d eaten because I was hungry, but the much-loathed company made nutrition unwanted by my body.
Greg slurped at the tagliatelle, swiping at globs of pesto sauce that splashed against his cheeks.
He grinned as he swirled more pasta onto his fork. “You really are a good cook, Elle.”
“You’re lucky I didn’t poison you.”
He chuckled. “There’s nothing here to poison me with.” He took another bite, eating with his mouth full. Steve would swat him if he saw—he’d been trying to break him of that habit since Greg was little. “No bleach, no cleaning products. Nothing that can harm.”
I reached for my water glass, hating how the links clinked over the table and threatened to slide through my lunch. Hoisting my other wrist, I balanced the foot of chain above the plate and awkwardly took a drink.
Greg never took his eyes off me.
Bastard.
I glanced out the window at the sparkling lake and sunshine. If I were here with any other person, it would be the perfect vacation away from working so hard. A vacation I’d never had. I would walk around the lake, have a picnic, read a book beneath a tree, and then come back and make love to whoever had brought me here.
Penn.
You would’ve made love to Penn.
I shut down my thoughts.
I didn’t want him in my head.
He wasn’t allowed or permitted inside my mind anymore. Twenty-four hours ago, I would’ve given him the benefit of the doubt and listened to what he had to say.
That was before the necklace.
Now, I would tell him to go away—no matter what explanations he formed.
Greg finished his last mouthful, smacking his lips and pushing the plate away. He nodded in appreciation. “Best lunch I’ve had in a while.”
“You obviously don’t get out much then.”
“I work for you.” His eyes narrowed. “I normally work through my lunch break because you expect so much from your staff.”
I couldn’t let him get away with that bullshit. “Whatever, Greg, your executive assistant does her job and yours combined. You’re never in your office; you’re always off site.”
His lips tightened.
“What? You think I don’t notice? That I don’t keep an eye on my employees?” I dragged out the word, enjoying the way he shifted full of annoyance in his chair. “It’s my company. Of course, I’m aware of who’s doing a good job and who isn’t. And I hate to say it, but you’ve never done a good job. Even from the first day Steve asked Dad to give you that position. You’ve taken your salary and done nothing for it.”
I wiped my mouth with my napkin, no longer hungry. “In fact, I’ve been claiming your salary as a charity donation on our tax returns because I have to pay your executive assistant twice her normal wage so she doesn’t walk out and leave your department in shambles.”
His mouth hung open. “You truly are a bitch.”
“And you’re just a bastard. Guess we’re even.”
He crossed his arms while I let the chain fall into my lap, the cuffs heavy around my wrists.
“What a way to ruin a nice lunch, Noelle.” He stood, snatching his plate before storming to my side of the table and grabbing mine. “Does it make you feel good to think you’re still so high and fucking mighty?”
I didn’t let his shadow looming over me intimidate me. I straightened my back, glowering directly into his eyes. “First, it’s Elle. I never have, and never will like Noelle. And second, yes it does make me feel good to point out your flaws and show you that whatever this is—” I flashed the engagement ring sparkling on my finger—the same ring I’d tried to pull off for the second time only to earn a slap so hard, I suspected his handprint still glowed on my cheek “—is a sham.”
Furious tears and racing heartbeats wobbled my words. “You’re just like him. You force an engagement on me and expect me to go along with it!” I laughed with disbelief. “I was an idiot where Penn was concerned. I should’ve stood up to him more. Should’ve dug into his background sooner, but I didn’t because beneath his lies, I actually liked the glimpses of normalness.”
I sneered at Greg. “But when I look at you, all I see is rotten greed. All I smell is hunger for things you haven’t earned and never will.”
My hands curled just before his fist connected.
It crunched against my cheekbone, layering upon the last punch, no doubt turning the faint grayness under my eye into a full-on black spot.
My head snapped to the side, my chin lolling on my chest as my arms shot out to grip the table. I teetered on the edge, only a fraction away from falling out of the chair and puddling at his feet.
I’d known it would come to this, yet I couldn’t help myself. I had to tell him off like a silly little child because that was what he was.
A child.
An ignorant little boy who needed a good spanking.
“That’s the last time you’ll ever
talk to me like that.” His breath smacked my hair with fury. “Hear me?”
I blinked and dared to shake my head a little. The world righted itself. The pain dimmed. I sat firmer in the chair, planting my elbows on the table and cradling my head. The chain and cuffs hindered me as I hid behind a curtain of tangled hair and pressed exploratory fingers to my puffy, hot cheek.
Ouch.
God, it hurt.
My tears were from physical pain instead of emotional frustration this time. I didn’t bother to stop them as they splashed sadly against the tabletop where my lunch had been.
Greg stomped into the kitchen and tossed the plates into the sink. China cracked with a loud splinter, but he didn’t care. Marching back toward me, he hoisted me to my feet with biting fingers around my elbow. “You want to fight, Elle? Fucking fine, we’ll fight.” Dragging me into the living room, he pointed at the hallway. “Choose, right now. Bed or couch.”
I squinted, doing my best to ignore the pain throbbing in my head. “What?”
“Bed or couch.”
“I don’t know what that means.”
He pressed his nose against mine. “I’m going to fuck you. Would you prefer over the couch like a whore or in the bed like my fiancée?”
Everything went black and cold.
So, so cold.
I squirmed in his hold; stepping backward the cuff around my ankle jingled and I stepped on the chain looped behind me for the thirty-seventh time, hurting yet another piece of me. “Greg, stop. I don’t want either.”
“Too fucking bad. You need to learn your place. You’re no longer my boss or the CEO, Elle.” His voice lowered to a hiss. “I am.”
Grabbing a handful of my hair, he threw me onto the plaid couch. The scratchy material stuck to my gold negligée like Velcro as I scooted sideways, trying to reach the other end and climb off.
He grabbed the chain around my ankle, hoisting me back.
The satin rose up my hips, exposing between my legs.
His eyes latched on greedily before I slammed a hand over myself with as much decency as I could muster. “Don’t touch me.”
“I’m going to do more than that.”
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