Entropy: A Dark Romance (Blood Diamond Disciples Book 1)

by Riley Ashby

  She shook her head and gripped my shirt as she turned her head again, this time of her own volition, to look at herself in the mirror.

  “Good girl.” I patted her head and grabbed a towel, then wiped her clean before taking care of myself. “Now pull up your panties and come eat with me.”

  I patted her on the ass one more time for good measure, then turned and left the room. But I knew before I got down the stairs I would be eating alone.

  No fucking way she was coming down now.

  None of that had been part of my plan when I went upstairs. I’d really thought we’d bicker a little, and she’d come down with a little convincing. I didn’t regret what happened, not in the least, though it only made my self-control wear a little thinner.

  Still, she was here with me for a reason. I’d promised to make her comfortable during this time, and I was fucking it up royally. I already had a lot of ground to make up in earning back her trust, and this wasn’t helping things. She needed a gesture.

  I got up from the table and walked to the ground-level room with a keypad on the lock. Opening it with the eight-digit code, I entered quickly, grabbed what I needed, and came out. At her door once more, I knocked, more measured this time.

  She cleared her throat before responding. “Are you here to assault me again?”

  “Don’t be dramatic. It felt good, right?”

  “That’s not the point.”

  I rolled my eyes. Of course she’d be like this. “I brought you a gift.”

  The door opened a crack, and I held out the book. Quinn squinted at me, then opened the door wider. “What is that?”

  “You like to read, right?” I waved it. “Here.”

  She took hold with the tips of her fingers and examined the cover. “Northanger Abbey,” she read aloud. She looked up at me, and I could see both her eyes now. “The first Austen I ever read.” She looked genuinely grateful. How did one stupid book change her mood so drastically? She opened the door all the way and stepped out to meet me.

  “Is your vision still okay? That eye isn’t bothering you too much?” I reached out to touch her face, but she ducked her head to the side.

  “Yes.” I didn’t hear the word so much as I saw her lips move.

  I dropped my hand. “You need to tell me if you have trouble seeing. You’re not supposed to be injured because of all this.”

  I thought for sure she’d follow up on that statement, but she only nodded once. “Fine.”

  Well, at least she’s out of the bedroom. “Would you like to eat?”

  This time, she didn’t bother to respond at all as she brushed by me and walked down the hallway, clutching the book to her chest.

  It appeared that coming downstairs was all she was willing to do, however. She ate in silence, ignoring all my attempts at conversation.

  I gave up on manners and muttered around a mouthful of eggs. “Your mom never mentioned you could be so sullen.”

  She fixed me with an intense gaze. “You know my mother?”

  I nodded slowly, trying to recover from what I had just revealed. “We’ve met.”

  She was quiet now but still hadn’t tried her food.

  “Eat,” I said, taking another bite of my own food.

  “Why do you bother making sure I eat? I mean, why do you care if I starve myself to death?”

  “I like to cook,” I said.

  It didn’t answer her question, and it didn’t slip by her.

  She ate rapidly. I wondered if she always ate like that or if she was concerned I would take the food away before she was finished. When we were both done, she pushed back from the table and turned to go back upstairs.

  I let my fork clatter against my plate. “Are you going to stay upstairs the whole day?”

  She looked back at me and raised an eyebrow. “Ideally, yes. Are you going to stop me?”

  “How can it really be that much fun to sit by yourself?”

  “I’m not by myself,” she said. “I have the book.”

  She continued upstairs without another word. She’ll be back, I consoled myself. She can’t read forever.

  Safe back in my room—or rather, the room that had been allocated to me—I let out a tentative sigh of relief. As the lock clicked, a sense of safety settled lightly on my shoulders. I wasn’t in pain, per se, but the memory of his hands lingered on my body—on my ass as much as the middle of my back as he’d held me on the bed, his heartbeat against my shoulder blades, his hard-on pressing into me as my pussy tingled and grew wet. I slid down the door and sat on the ground, head in my hands, and allowed myself a few moments of self-pity.

  It didn’t take long for anger and embarrassment to replace my wallowing. I’d let myself get sloppy at the club and got into a car with a strange man. Now I was going on four days—at least—of being captive in God only knew where. First, he forced a pill down my throat, then he spanked me like a child. Worse, it turned me on. Why had I let my guard down? I thought I was doing something normal for once instead of sending some poor boy through the hoops of my gated driveway and pat-downs by our security personnel.

  It turned out this was the one boy who needed a pat-down more than all the others.

  And now—oh, my God, when he bent me over the bed I was sure I was about to lose my virginity. And the worst part was, I wasn’t even sure I’d mind. I’d been on edge for days, kissing him over and over in exchange for food, each interaction leaving me more breathless than the last. When he forced me to look in the mirror and see his cum all over my skin, I had to stop myself from moaning. Even now, the scent of it lingered on me.

  This was why I didn’t do nights out. My schoolwork and the time I spent on Dad’s business were smokescreens for the real reason I didn’t do this. Because letting this happen to me, and what I knew would happen to me, was unacceptable after what happened to my sister. I’d promised her, a long time ago, that I would live my life well to make up for hers. And look at how I’d repaid her.

  At least I’d finally gotten a good night’s sleep. The bed was soft and comfortable, especially compared to the cot in the cold basement. The attached bathroom featured a giant shower and soaking tub. Numerous windows offered a gorgeous view of the snowcapped mountains, but the blackout shades meant I could also sit in total darkness. The first couple of nights, I was even more restless than I’d been in the basement room, made nervous by my proximity to my captor.

  Whatever this house was, wherever we were, it wasn’t supposed to be a prison. Had a family ever lived here? Had guests once visited for the holidays, skiing in the morning on freshly fallen snow and then passing the evening in front of a fire with cocoa and marshmallows? Did children run up and down the stairs to the basement, playing their own games while the adults drank beer and wine and reminisced about their younger days?

  Did they know what was happening here now?

  I thumbed the soft pages of the book absently while thoughts tumbled in my head. Why was I here alone with this man? Gunner clearly was not the one in charge of the entire operation; that had to be Vin. There had to be a reason we had this setup, and I needed to figure it out.

  Sunrise came slowly this late in the year. The sun was shining through the windows on the eastern side of the house, illuminating the entire room. On the floor next to the bed was a suitcase—my suitcase—filled with my clothes, underwear, makeup, and everything else I used on a daily basis. Someone had been inside my house. A stranger, maybe even Gunner himself, had gone through my room. Enough clothes for at least a week without having to wash anything. The contents of my bedroom had been shoved into a couple of suitcases, then transported here. They—whoever these men were—clearly planned for me to be here a while. What was going to happen to me while I waited for them to extort the ransom money from my parents? And why were they going to so much trouble to keep me comfortable? I doubted many kidnapping victims got the courtesy of their own toothbrush and shampoo. I didn’t think being the daughter of a businessman had much to d
o with it, either. They hadn’t mentioned my dad’s position at all. In fact, they were much more interested in my mom. So why were they treating me so nicely?

  If this was nice, what did they do to the girls they didn’t actually care about?

  Too many questions. My mind was racing. I had to get myself under control before I panicked. He would make me take another one of those pills, and as much as it helped the other day, I wouldn’t let myself become compromised again. I crawled on my hands and knees around the room, checking underneath the bedframe and along the sides of the built-in bookcases for more cameras or microphones. I didn’t find anything, same as the dozen other times I’d done this check. But I didn’t exactly know what I was looking for. I did another sweep of the bathroom and similarly found nothing. He was watching me, had to be. I could feel him on the other end of a lens as surely as I felt his eyes on me two nights ago in the club. For some reason, I could handle the thought of Gunner observing me, but knowing Vin could also be watching me at any time made my skin crawl.

  Crawling onto the bed, I grabbed Northanger Abbey

  from where I had left it on the nightstand and opened the title page. It was so old, I wanted to see when it had been printed.

  It was a first edition.

  I was so shocked I almost dropped it. I shouldn’t be handling this book—it needed to be in a humidity-controlled case and touched only through cotton gloves.

  I leaped out of bed and rushed downstairs, holding the book in front of me with the tips of my fingers. Gunner looked up at me from where he was lying on the couch watching a football game.

  “What the hell?” I shouted at him, holding up the book. “How could you give me this?”

  He squinted at me. “What are you talking about? You said you wanted a book, and I got you one.” He stood and walked over to me, reaching out for the book. “Is there something wrong with it?”

  I couldn’t speak for a moment, snatching the book away from his reaching hand at the last second. Did this uneducated swine seriously not know the value of this book?

  “This is a first edition, Gunner. Do you realize how much this is worth? It should be in a museum, or at least in a special case. And we definitely shouldn’t be touching it with our bare hands.”

  “Oh.” He had the grace to look sheepish. “I kind of wondered why it was in that box. I’ll put it back.”

  He reached out again, and I took another step back. “You’re not touching this. Who knows how much damage you’ve already done?”

  He seemed to realize the power dynamic had shifted and quickly schooled the expression from his face. “You’re not allowed in the room where it’s stored.”

  “Well, why not? Clearly, I know more about how to treat its contents than you do.”

  He opened his mouth to reply, but I cut him off. “Let me put this back and pick out a book that isn’t worth more than most people’s yearly salary.”

  Still, he hesitated.

  “If you try to wrestle me for this book, it’ll get destroyed.” I had worked on my stern voice the night before, and it finally seemed to work. “You did say I could go anywhere I wanted within the house.”

  “Fine,” he grumbled before turning and leading me down the hall to the forbidden room. Covering the keypad with one hand so I couldn’t see it, he typed in an eight-digit code and held the door open, gesturing me inside.

  Stepping into the brightly lit space, I felt my jaw fall open, and I almost dropped the book. It was a huge library with shelves built into the wall as well as free-standing. Every available space was packed with books. Along an inner wall, away from any windows, were several different cases that all held ancient-looking tomes.

  I rushed over to place Northanger Abbey back in the only empty box, then stepped back to admire its companions. J.R.R. Tolkien, Ray Bradbury, J.D. Salinger, and more—there were at least a dozen first editions of some of the most famous books in English-language literature.

  My mouth was still hanging open as Gunner stepped forward. His upper arm brushed against my shoulder. “I guess this is pretty impressive?”

  I turned to gape at him. “This is fantastic. You’ve got your own rare bookstore in here. Why do you have all of these?” I stepped forward to gently touch the glass of one of the cases, another Jane Austen.

  “My parents collected them,” he said, stepping forward again to stay next to me. Was he worried I was going to run off with one? “I was never a reader, but they were both very well-read. I’ve never spent much time in here.”

  I stepped away from the cases now to drag my fingers along the books on the shelves, admiring not only the classics in leather-bound covers but also newer hardcovers from more contemporary authors. I pulled a more recently printed copy of Northanger Abbey off the shelf and hugged it to my chest. I looked up to meet Gunner’s eyes. He was staring at me with his head slightly cocked to one side.

  “So … you’re really into books.”

  I nodded. “This is glorious, Gunner. I would kill to have a room half as big as this in my home.” I began walking down another row of books, reaching out occasionally to touch a title I recognized. “My parents think of books as clutter. We use a Kindle.”

  He kept pace with me, moving soft and slow behind me. I looked over my shoulder. “Can I choose a few more?”

  I expected him to scoff, but he nodded. His eyes were soft now, all the intensity of the past day gone. I looked away quickly and picked out a few more books. With another glance around, I sighed contentedly. “This should hold me over for a while.”

  Instead of guiding me to the door, he stood still behind me. I turned to face him and found him much closer than I expected. With my hands clasping the books over my chest, my wrists grazed the front of his shirt. I sucked in a short breath.

  “Thank you,” I said and surprised us both when I stood on my toes and kissed his cheek. Stubble scraped my lips as I lingered just a moment, then sat back on my heels, eyes on the floor.

  He grabbed my arm as I tried to fall back and held me still, shaking me a little so I looked up at him.

  “What was that for?” He was suspicious. But I didn’t have any ulterior motives. I hadn’t even planned to do it. And even now, as my heart hammered so loud I could hear my pulse in my ears, I didn’t think it was the wrong thing to do.

  “I don’t know.”

  He swallowed. “Okay. Let’s go.” Without waiting for me, he turned around then and walked out of the room. It seemed like he was running from me, and I struggled to keep up with him. By the time I closed the door and re-entered the main part of the house, he was back on the couch. I only got one foot on the steps before he spoke.

  “You can read down here if you like. I don’t have to watch TV.”

  I considered his offer for a moment. First insisting we eat together, and now this. I should stick to my plan and continue keeping my distance. But he had given me access to more books than I could ever hope to possess in a lifetime, and I was grateful. He didn’t have to do that. And I didn’t think it was planned, his ignorance about the books he owned. This had been a truly spontaneous interaction. Even though it had only lasted a few minutes, I thought I had finally gotten to see a little bit of his true self.

  “It’s okay,” I said. He sighed, looking disappointed, then sat up as I walked toward him instead of going up the stairs. I chose a chair by the window, closer to the stairs than to him. Grabbing a blanket from the arm of the couch he sat on, I pulled it around my body. “The TV doesn’t bother me.”

  He nodded again, then turned his attention back to the TV. I opened one of my books and began to read.

  She fell asleep reading in the chair after lunch. I thought about waking her up, but it didn’t matter. She didn’t have anything to do or anywhere to go. Let her sleep whenever, wherever, for as long as she wanted.

  Mom used to do that, too. The memory came out of nowhere, and my normally unfeeling heart skipped a beat. Fuck. I thought I’d shoved all that shit o
ut of the way. Nearly every day, she’d take a nap in that same chair while reading one of her books as Dad read on the couch or watched TV, right where I was sitting. I’d come back from skiing or hiking to find them both passed out in the warm sun like a couple of cats. They were always eager to wake up when I got home, though, and start preparing dinner.

  That was, until Dad decided I wasn’t worth his time anymore.

  They’re gone now. Stop thinking about it. I’d stopped dwelling on the past years ago, right around the first time I pulled a trigger with deadly consequences. The memories didn’t serve me then, and they sure as hell wouldn’t now.

  In the late afternoon, I got a text that Vin was on his way. I put a hand on her shoulder and shook her gently. She opened her eyes, and for a moment, I remembered what it was like to have her under me, looking up as I felt the deepest part of her.

  She blinked and rubbed her face. “Why did you wake me?”

  “Vin will be here soon. You need to get ready.”

  She frowned and sat up a little straighter. “How? Does he want me to … wear something?”

  I shook my head. “No. I mean, mentally.” He’d be angry if he knew I was giving her a heads-up. It would be easier to handle her mother if she was panicked and crying, but I was the one who would have to clean up the emotional mess afterward. “You know how he is. Don’t be surprised.”

  She pursed her lips briefly as she looked at me, curled against the chair while I leaned over her with an arm on either side of her body. She hadn’t flinched when she opened her eyes and saw me so close. I became aware of the small space between us, a distance many would find far too intimate or purposely intimidating, depending on the circumstances.

  “Do I have to give you a kiss in order for you to let me up?”

  I bit my lower lip and raised an eyebrow. “I hadn’t thought of that, but since you mentioned it …”