by Grant, Livia
Between the meth and pain, Nalani gratefully slipped in and out of consciousness, losing the ability to judge time. When she would pass out, the asshole leaned over her to backhand her face with enough force, she felt her neck cracking from the fast snapping back-and-forth.
She welcomed the bright light after one particularly hard bash to her head, praying for darkness that would take the pain away. She got her wish as she felt herself slipping away.
The sharp pain of her asshole being ripped open jarred her awake. It was unlike any pain she’d suffered before, this new violation so much more personal. Her passage was dry, giving his appendage the evil opportunity to torture her further.
She felt his arms wrapping around her thighs, using her tied-down body as an anchor to deepen his thrusts inside her body. Like her pussy, he was ripping her, raping her with a velocity meant to do maximum damage. She wasn’t sure how, but she knew this attack was less about sex and more about getting even with her for daring to report him. He wasn’t chasing his satisfaction but was instead racing to achieve his revenge.
Nalani was grateful for the meth making its way through her veins. It was the only thing dulling the pain of the attack. It was also the only thing that made time float, letting her lose herself for long blocks of time, stealing her away from the horror of her reality.
At some point, she became aware the intruder had taken the time to turn on her television. Fragments of sound broke through her stupor, sparking odd thoughts of award shows and walking on the red carpet outside of a theater. Short strains of musical numbers mingled with a laugh track. Somewhere, people were having fun, listening to music and laughing, unaware she was going through hell.
It wasn’t fair. She didn’t know how, but even in her hazy fog, she knew with a certainty, she was supposed to be there, having fun—not tied to her kitchen table, waiting to die.
But life wasn’t fair. As the assault dragged on, her assailant grew even angrier, taking turns between raping her holes and shouting at people on the television. Several times, Nalani wasn’t sure if he was calling her a bitch or someone else far away.
After what felt like a lifetime, the portly man, now sweating from his exertion, grew agitated over his inability to climax, blaming it on the sexual enhancement drugs. She didn’t give a shit why, she just prayed he’d come soon, so he’d have to stop his hateful assault.
She was only vaguely aware of him taking a short break to put on a condom. By the time he plunged his penis back inside her ass, the passageway was lubricated with her own blood. The final volley of thrusts rammed her body so hard, the table starting wobbling. Her rapist cried out as he finally ejaculated. She opened her eyes just enough to see his ruddy face contorting with grotesque satisfaction.
A tiny ray of hope sparked. She’d survived the worst of it. The only question dancing through her drug-addled brain was if he planned on killing her now that he’d had his fun. She’d seen his face. She knew his name. He may be a monster, but he wasn’t stupid.
He wouldn’t leave a witness who could identify him.
In the awkward post-attack silence, the sound of people clapping and cheering came from her small TV across the room. “And the award for Best Motion Picture goes to…”
Oh, how she wished she was there. Had Shane Covington really invited her? Was he real, or had she just imagined him looking at her lovingly? It felt like some farfetched fantasy, but she let herself dream of the handsome actor as she watched Ainsworth putting his own clothing back together and his used condom into a plastic Ziploc bag.
One by one, he released her limbs, bringing renewed pain to her extremities as blood rushed back through veins that had been restrained for what seemed like hours.
Only after he’d removed the handcuffs from her wrists and put them into the leather bag, he’d brought with him did her attacker finally address her again after first shoving her off the tabletop, sending her damaged body crashing to the hard floor in a broken heap.
His shoe met with her stomach as he kicked her before crouching down, thrusting his still gloved hand into her hair and yanking her head up until she had no choice but to stare back at his angry glare.
“Don’t make me regret leaving you alive. If you so much as mention a tiny part of what happened here today to anyone, I’ll be sure to destroy what’s left of your pitiful life, you got it? I had my PI work up a file on you. No one will believe a meth addict like you over a powerful movie exec like me.
“And if you try to say I put these marks on your body, I’ll be sure to tell the police about all the noises I heard coming out of Covington’s suite at Runway this last week. I’ve heard rumors of the kinky shit he’s into. It won’t be a stretch for Davidson and the cops to believe it was him who did this to you. I even have photos of him with other sluts, doing almost the same thing. I’ll send them to every newspaper and TV station in town. He’ll never work in this town again, and neither will you. Davidson will throw you out of the mansion like the garbage you are.”
As much as she hated the idea of dying, at that moment, it was preferable to having him walk out of there and get away with the atrocities he’d done to her. Yet she knew she’d never be strong enough to accuse Henry Ainsworth—no one would believe a nobody like her.
He released her head as fast as he’d yanked it up, crashing her forehead against the floor in one final act of violence. Nalani knew she should feel relieved when she heard the door to her apartment closing behind her attacker, but the second she was alone, the panic she’d somehow been suppressing attacked as hard as Ainsworth had.
Heart racing, head pounding, body aching—she fell apart. Her throat was sore from trying to scream. It took several tries to pull the tape off her lips, allowing the first deep breath she’d had since the attack had begun. As her lungs filled, a sharp pain stabbed her. She suspected she had a broken rib or two where he’d kicked her.
She wasn’t sure how long she laid on the floor, paralyzed by her own fear. What does one do after being brutally attacked? Somehow crawling to the shower, then bed seemed wrong.
She was supposed to call the police. To report the break-in—the brutal attack. Surely, he’d left behind enough physical evidence to condemn him. Even as she thought it, she dismissed the idea. There was no way she could admit the shame she felt at not being strong enough to fight him off.
Calling the police would mean going to the hospital. She’d be poked and prodded—violated all over again. They’d do whatever it was they did when they performed a rape kit. It would surely involve a blood test. They’d find the meth coursing through her blood. They’d do a background check. They’d find her father and brother were two of the biggest meth dealers in the state of Hawaii… until the day they’d been thrown in prison.
And finally, the police would find how she’d been caught up in the family business at the young age of fourteen. Used by the men she was supposed to trust to deliver drugs for them, and when she’d protested, injected with the very drugs they sold until they’d got her so dependent, she’d do anything for her next hit.
No.
She couldn’t relive that part of her life again. It had taken years of treatment to fully recover. She’d just have to move again. Somewhere where she could start all over again. Somewhere where she’d never have to worry about seeing Henry Ainsworth ever again.
A crushing sadness blanketed her when she realized that would also mean never seeing Shane Covington or the friends she worked with again.
Nalani dozed in and out of her stupor, unsure how much time passed before she was finally able to pull herself up enough to crawl toward her small bathroom. She was pretty sure she was leaving a streak of blood across the floor as her knees connected with the cool tile of the dated bathroom.
She couldn’t remember when she’d last eaten or drank, but as thirsty as she was, she couldn’t find the strength to pull herself up to the sink. Instead, she crawled to the bathtub, taking a full minute to navigate high enough to turn on the faucet and pu
ll the stopper.
She collapsed to the floor again, despair threatening to overwhelm her. Closing her eyes, she took several deep cleansing breaths in an attempt to calm down while she waited for the tub to fill.
She should feel safe now, but some part of her knew… she would never feel safe again. Horrific memories of the attack kept playing on an auto-loop in her brain, gripping her with renewed fear until she felt faint.
By the time the darkness came, she welcomed it.
Chapter 17
“This is stupid. I want to go home.”
Nolan knew he was on borrowed time with Piper. He’d been walking a tightrope all night, trying to keep things light between them while still trying valiantly to solidify the tenuous thread that seemed to be holding them together.
“I promised Wayne I’d make an appearance.”
Piper snagged a flute of champagne from a passing waiter, downing it in one fast swig before slamming the empty crystal back on the tray before sassing back.
“Sounds like a personal problem.”
The only thing keeping Piper’s unladylike belch from making the gossip rags was the pounding beat of the dance music.
“You’re drunk.”
“Yep. So nice of you to notice,” she said, waving wildly at another waitress carrying a full tray of beverages through the pressing crowd of elegantly dressed celebrities.
Nolan had big plans for their night and scraping a drunk Piper off the floor wasn’t part of it.
“Come on,” he said, reaching to grab her before she could pick up her next drink. She tried to yank her hand out of his, but he was ready for her. “You owe me a dance.”
“I don’t owe you shit,” she retorted, yet he noticed she’d stopped trying to get away.
The dance floor was full of revelers. Nolan weaved them through the throng of grinding bodies—several of who were carrying their Oscar statues—finding a pocket of open space near the speakers. Most couples shied away because it was so loud there, but Nolan knew it was ideal for them since they’d struggled to find topics to discuss that didn’t end up in their signature verbal bantering. To outsiders, their witty bickering probably sounded like arguing, but Nolan knew the truth.
It was their unique form of foreplay.
The deeper into the night they got, the more certain he was Piper knew it too, and it had her running scared—the more scared she got, the more alcohol she drank.
The upbeat dance song called for wild dancing, but Nolan pulled Piper into his arms, molding their bodies together perfectly as they swayed seductively to the beat of the music.
“Aw… feels like you’re happy to see me,” she joked, pressing her hips against his raging erection.
“Tease. Don’t think I haven’t noticed you accidentally brushing your tits against me all night. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were as anxious as I am to consummate our little game tonight.”
“Dream on, buddy,” Piper chuckled. “We aren’t consummating a damn thing.”
“Oh Piper, you’re so wrong. We’ve already finished our first award ceremony together. Walked the red carpet together. Tomorrow, we’ll be in every news column… every gossip rag… We’ve attended two parties together. Now we’ve had our first dance. And in about ten seconds, we’ll be able to cross another first off our list.”
“Oh yeah, what’s that? My first knee to The Rock in public?”
“Naw, I’d rather save that for another night if that’s okay. I had something better in mind.”
“What could be better than publicly humiliating you?” she teased, a levity in her eyes he loved.
He knew it was a risky move, but he couldn’t have stopped himself if he tried. He’d waited long enough. Nolan tightened his hold on Piper’s waist with his left arm, grabbing her coiffed hair with his right hand, finally crashing his lips against hers in a possessive kiss.
She fought to wriggle free for all of two seconds before surrendering herself wholly to the passion of the moment. He was glad he had a good hold of her—Piper’s legs turned to spaghetti just as he thrust his tongue into her mouth. He could taste the remnants of the breath mint he’d seen her pop in the car on the way to the party.
She felt like heaven while being hotter than hell. Nolan’s heart pounded in his chest as their kiss went on, gaining heat until he was certain they had to be putting off steam for all to see. He let his hand roam, enjoying the feel of her sexy curves, hidden by the satin of her elegant gown.
The good-natured catcalls from the party-going revelers dancing around them finally convinced him to come up for air. While the kiss had been scorching hot, the simple intimacy that followed was more precious. Piper allowed him to lean into her, their foreheads linked as they swayed to the music.
He was afraid to break their amicable silence, so he used the time with her in his arms to memorize the feel of her curves against his body. As the song progressed, he felt her slumping.
“Hey, are you checking out on me?” he finally asked against her ear.
“Aww, you noticed.”
Her words didn’t match her continued dependency on him to hold her up. He wasn’t crazy about her getting drunk, but if that’s what it took to break the ice between them, so be it.
She must have been thinking the same thing.
“You’re ruining my reputation, you know that?”
“What reputation is that? That you don’t play well with others?” he teased her back.
She swatted at his chest. “I tried hard to ditch you tonight. You just kept showing up like a bad penny.”
Nolan didn’t want to pick a fight, but he also didn’t want to let her comment go without notice.
“Yeah, I so appreciated you ditching me for over half of the ceremony by staying backstage after you’d presented. I was stuck sitting with a seat-filler. His name is Clark. He wants to be an actor.”
Her tinkling laughter did something funny to his insides.
“Aw, you poor thing. You had to…” Piper stopped mid-sentence. Her eyes opened wide as she lifted her right hand to cup it over her mouth.
“Oh no, you don’t. Don’t you dare puke on me here on the dance floor.”
The panic in her eyes told him she was indeed ready to throw-up on the center of the dance floor.
Nolan got them in motion, using his left hand to clear a path through the grinding bodies, pulling Piper behind him with a death grip to keep them from being separated.
Heading toward the bathroom might have been a safer bet, but he didn’t get where he was without taking risks. Tonight, he would be going for broke, which meant he headed for the front door of the crowded banquet hall. Seeing the gauntlet of reporters and paparazzi waiting to catch celebrities doing naughty things for their cameras, Piper yanked on their joined hands to get him to stop.
He stepped in front of her to shield her from the clicking cameras as her complexion took on a chalky-green hue.
“You need fresh air,” he offered.
“Not out front,” she croaked out, following his plan perfectly.
“Okay, we passed a side exit to the alley. Let’s sneak out that way.”
They were only a few feet into the alley when a black stretch limo parked along the street flipped on their headlights and turned down the narrow pavement, stopping right in front of them.
Nolan had just opened the door when Piper lost her battle with her stomach, depositing the contents of the appetizers they’d eaten together along with the numerous alcohol units she’d drank on the pavement next to the car.
As she bent down, Nolan held back the few stray wisps of her long, dark hair that had escaped from her up-do from getting sprayed. Unfortunately, he wasn’t able to protect the first few inches inside the limo from the same fate.
His driver Thomas got out of the car and seeing the problem, opened the door on the other side of the car as he urged Nolan along.
“You’re about to be papped. I’d hurry if I were you.”
Nolan looked down the alley and confirmed there were indeed several cameramen with long-range lenses setting up. He reached into his inner pocket to come out with a hankie, thrusting it into Piper’s hand before scooping her into his arms.
“We gotta go, baby.”
Piper didn’t protest as he carried her limp body to the other side of the car, diving into the backseat as the driver slammed the door closed behind them. Once behind the wheel, Thomas gunned the gas so hard, the tires squealed.
Once they were back out on the main drag, safely hidden by the tinted windows, Nolan couldn’t help but smile. While he wished Piper hadn’t gotten drunk, he acknowledged it might be a blessing in disguise since she was presently sitting on his lap without protest.
He reached to open a bottle of water, holding it up to Piper’s lips.
“Drink for me, baby.”
The fact she obeyed without protest confirmed she was drunker than he’d thought.
“Mouth tastes bad,” she complained.
Nolan reached into the inner pocket of his jacket again to come out with a few breath mints. He held them out, but she didn’t take them. When he looked up, he found her eyes closed.
Oh, man, she was gorgeous.
“Open up, baby.”
He popped the mints in her mouth as she let herself collapse, snuggling against him as he hugged her closer.
It took almost the entire forty-minute drive back to his house, with Piper snoring lightly as she slept in his arms, to come to terms with the truth.
He wanted more of this. He wanted forever.
Piper Kole, in his arms, was his home.
As much as he’d hoped to consummate their night of foreplay, he suspected it was for the best when she didn’t bother to wake up as he carried her from the car to his front door, where his driver was punching in the security code to enter.
“Thanks, Thomas. Sorry about the mess in the back.”
“That’s no problem, Mr. Boeing. That kinda thing happens more often than you’d think.”
The news didn’t surprise him.
“Night, Mr. Boeing. I hope Ms. Kole feels better soon.”