Tie Me Up Daddy

by Cassandra Dee

  But there are more important things than living in a castle. At least I had my health, I had my mom, and I had skills. Maybe it would hurt to dance for a while, but realistically, it’s the only thing I know how to do. So somehow, I had to pull myself out of this depression. Somehow, I’d have to do it on my own, without Thorn.

  I sat up, taking a deep breath, trying to get my sobs under control. The air in my lungs stung, like they were filled with peppermint, but at least they weren’t convulsing in agony anymore. I’d be alright. I would make it work somehow.

  The sound of footsteps interrupted my thoughts, and I turned, expecting to see Mary again. But the person who stepped into the light made me cringe because it was Miss Lane. Yes, Miss Lane, here in Kansas, far from the hubbub of NYC.

  “Hi Laney,” was her sneered greeting.

  I stood immediately, trying to smooth my hair in place, wiping furtively at my red eyes. But there was no way to hide that I’d been crying, the bird’s nest that was my hair.

  “Hi-hi,” I stammered. “Why are you here?” I asked. “This is so far from New York, don’t you have classes to teach?”

  The woman looked around the room disdainfully, eyes taking in the faded and peeling wallpaper, the saggy furniture.

  “So this is where you’re from,” she said contemptuously. “I always knew the new girls were trash.”

  I goggled at her. Had I really heard her right? Our house isn’t nice, I know that, but still. Mary had worked long and hard to provide for us, and I wasn’t going to have some snooty woman insult my mom.

  “Miss Lane,” I began, voice hard.

  But Mary interrupted, her eyes telling me to be quiet.

  “Miss Lane,” she said hurriedly. “I’m so glad you came to see my daughter. It’s because you want her back right? The Academy needs Laney to dance, and you know what? Laney’s had a change of heart. She wants to perform. This was all a big mix-up, she wants to go back with you. Laney, get your stuff,” my mom said, eyes telling me to move. “Get your stuff and go with this nice lady.”

  I goggled. That wasn’t what Miss Lane was here for at all. Anyone with eyes could see that, my mom was smokin’ something crazy.

  “Miss Lane,” I said again, voice hard now. “What can I do for you? Why are you here?”

  And this time, the woman answered.

  “I’m here because you’re worthless,” she sneered. “Lower than dirt.”

  That made both me and my mom shut up, the air in the living room completely silent. Because who would say that to my face? The rudeness was indescribable.

  But this woman was off her rocker, certifiably insane. Because she actually went over to the lamp then, and with a sweep of her hand, knocked it off the table. If it hadn’t bounced onto our thick shag rug, it would have broken for sure, but instead it rolled a couple feet.

  My mom and I gasped. What the hell? What was going on?

  “I’m calling the police,” I rushed. “Mom, dial 911, this is crazy.”

  Mary reached for the phone with trembling hands, but before she could get to it, Miss Lane slapped her across the face hard. My mom sat down with a thump, head whipped to the side from the force of the blow.

  “Mom!” I screamed, leaping to her side. “Are you okay?”

  Mary was completely dazed, eyes a bleary blue, glasses crooked on her nose.

  “I-I’m okay honey,” she stammered. “I’m okay.”

  And at that, I lost it because who was this woman to come marching into our home, insulting everything, breaking furniture, and then literally hitting my mom? I flew at her in a rage, ready to punch, bite and scream, all my frustration and heartbreak erupting at that moment.

  But in a flash, Miss Lane pulled a gun from her purse and pointed it directly at me. My feet skidded to a halt, arms still outstretched.

  “Stop,” she said in dead voice. “Don’t move.”

  Muscles twitching, I didn’t move an inch. Oh my god, was this really happening? Was a strange woman threatening us with a gun, right here in our living room?

  But something had changed about Miss Lane. Because she’s never been a nice person, but she’d been alive at least. There’d been a person behind those cold blue eyes, someone with her own life, her own needs and wants, her own dreams. What they were, I couldn’t be sure, but all that was gone now. All that looked back at us was a pair of lifeless blue eyes, cold as ice.

  “You’re a slut,” she said tunelessly to me.

  My hands up, I decided to give her whatever she wanted.

  “Yes,” I nodded slowly. “Yes, I’m a slut. You’re right Miss Lane, I’m a slut.”

  Those chin jerked at me.

  “You’re a slut of the worst kind. Young, nubile, you tempt him. You make him want you, when he shouldn’t.”

  Again, I was gonna agree with anything she said.

  “You’re right,” I said, nodding slowly, hands still up. “You’re one hundred percent right, I’m the one who tempted him.”

  Beside me, Mary still sat motionless on the ground, quivering with fear.

  “Please let my mom go,” I said in a low voice. “Please, she has nothing to do with this.”

  “No!” came the harsh word in a furious burst, gun wavering between the two of us, making us both cower. “No! She stays!”

  I nodded, breathing shallowly, heart beating like a drum.

  “Okay, okay,” I said slowly, totally still, my hands still up. “But please, my mom had nothing to do with this. Just please, take whatever you want, but leave us alone. Please,” I whispered again.

  But Miss Lane was on a rant, and couldn’t be stopped.

  “You’re a slut!” she screamed. “Say it!”

  I nodded furiously.

  “I’m a slut,” came my voice. “I’m a slut.”

  “You’re a slut who tempted Thorn Channing!” she screamed, even more furious this time. “You’re a slut with a dirty cunt, you made him want you!”

  I nodded, eyes wide and frozen.

  “I’m a slut who tempted Thorn Channing,” the words came out, frozen with fear. “I have a dirty cunt, I made him want me.”

  “And that’s why you deserve to die!” she screamed now, voice going even louder and higher. “You deserve to die because you have a dirty cunt!”

  My mouth opened and closed, frozen. Could I say it? Could I say “I deserve to die”? The words were so horrible and my brain screamed. I didn’t deserve to die. I didn’t deserve for this to happen. Sure, I’d made some bad decisions, but dying? Being murdered, right here in the living room, in front of my mom? I couldn’t say it, I wouldn’t.

  Miss Lane’s eyes narrowed then, her finger on the trigger, all sanity gone at this point.

  “Say it!” she screamed. “Say, ‘I deserve to die!’”

  My mouth opened, but the words just wouldn’t come out. My throat wobbled, vocal cords trembling, but I just couldn’t say it. And Miss Lane’s anger went ballistic, rising beyond fever pitch. Her finger began squeezing the trigger, and my eyes closed. Goodbye Mom, I prayed silently. Goodbye Thorn, I’m so sorry things ended like this. I love you.

  But instead of a bullet, I was knocked over to one side, landing on the furry rug with a whoof. And at the same time, a dark figure tackled Miss Lane, struggling for a moment before wrenching the gun from her hands and forcing the woman face down on the rug.

  I lay there, stunned and breathless, unable to move for a moment. But slowly, my eyes focused because it was Thorn on me. My big, dark lover had come to save the day, and at this moment, all two hundred pounds were draped on me, pressing me into the carpet, shielding me from any bullets.

  “You got her?” came his heavy grunt.

  My eyes rolled wildly. What was going on?

  But the man who’d tackled Miss Lane sat up now, snapping cuffs around her wrists with one hand while pushing her face into the carpet.

  “Got her,” he grunted. “She’s not going anywhere. You guys okay?”

  And wit
h that, Thorn moved off me. Oh god, it’d felt so good to have him here, that wide chest pressed against my back, the heavy thighs plastered to mine, the assurance of his masculinity, that confidence radiating from his big form. I sat up dazed, looking around as my mom ran over, bursting into tears while throwing her arms around my shoulders.

  “Baby!” she sobbed, her voice muffled in my hair. “I thought you were going to die! My baby girl!” she whimpered.

  I hugged my mom back, still unable to process what had happened. Had Miss Lane just threatened to kill me? And Thorn was here now, my savior during our time of need?

  But it was true because the alpha male got to his feet, glowering before hocking a loogie and spitting on Miss Lane. It wasn’t pretty, the glob of saliva oozing in her hair, disgusting and wet. But Thorn has never been a nice guy, and if someone threatens his property, he’s all over it. His foot literally raised, ready to kick her in the face, but something made him hold back.

  “Tell Laney,” he rasped, eyes blazing at Miss Lane. “Tell Laney what you did.”

  The older woman was sobbing into the rug now, face down, hands grabbing at her hair.

  “Mwmwmwm!” was all we could hear.

  But Thorn’s bodyguard grabbed Miss Lane’s hair and yanked her head up so that we could see her face.

  “Mwmwmwm!” she wailed, a blubbering mess. “Mwmwwm!”

  Mr. Channing wasn’t having it. He seized the gun that had been lying discarded on the rug and pointed it at Miss Lane. The Friday Night Special looked almost comical in his hands, so small in that huge fist. But still, it was deadly and the look in his eyes even scarier.

  “Tell her,” he rasped once more. “Don’t make me say it again.”

  And Miss Lane opened her mouth then, revealing broken, jagged teeth and a mouthful of blood.

  “I love you Thorn!” she wailed. “I love you soooo much!” It was like a scene from a horror movie where a zombie rises from the dead, red liquid dripping from its mouth.

  Thorn shook his head in rage, this time stepping near to push the gun against her temple.

  “Tell her,” he threatened. “Tell her what you’ve done.”

  And with that, Miss Lane caved. The words came out in a babble, a rush that I almost couldn’t understand. But the main part was clear.

  “I set you up!” she screamed at me while looking at Thorn. “I set that slut up! She wasn’t worth it! She’s not good enough for you, only I’m good enough for you!”

  Thorn’s finger pressed menacingly on the trigger.

  “What did you do?” he rasped. “What exactly did you do?”

  “I had sex with a man in your spare bedroom!” she screamed. “All those bedrooms for banging different girls! I hate them! I hate you!” she shrieked.

  Thorn cocked the gun this time, the barrel pressed tight to her temple.

  “What else?” he ground out, the look on his face ferocious. “What else?”

  “I waited until Laney was in your apartment, and then had sex with a man inside! So she could hear what a disgusting, trashy manwhore you are!” Miss Lane screamed. “It’s not fair, it’s not fair! You want me, you need me!” she shrieked to the heavens. “I’m the only one who can make you happy Thorn Channing, mark my words!”

  I stared wide-eyed at the scene before me. Because was it true? Had Miss Lane set the whole thing up? She’d known I was going over to Thorn’s apartment that night, so she’d had sex with a man in the red bedroom, to trick me into thinking that it was Thorn himself? It was so twisted. Who would do something like that?

  But the answer was right in front of me because at this point, Miss Lane began thrashing wildly on the ground, skinny limbs flailing, literally frothing at the mouth.

  “I’m the only person who can make you happy!” she screamed through the spittle, banging her face against the ground, blood flowing from her nose and mouth. “Only me!”

  And at that, Thorn’s bodyguard hauled her to her feet, pinning her arms behind her back so that she could no longer hurt herself.

  “Let’s go,” was all he said before dragging the woman off, still screaming and squealing.

  “Only meeeee!” she wailed. “Only meeeeee!”

  As the door slammed, the three of us turned to stare at each other.

  “Is it true?” I whispered, frozen with shock. “Was that her in the bedroom or was it you?”

  The alpha lowered the gun, looking at his palm like he didn’t recognize his own hand.

  “It’s true,” he rasped, swinging bright blue eyes to me. “There’s been no one but you,” he added. “No one Laney, no one.”

  I nodded.

  “But what was this all about?” I said weakly, gesturing to the broken furniture, the blood on the carpet. “What happened?”

  Thorn shook his head.

  “Baby, I don’t know everything yet. But Serena is certifiably off her rocker, bound for the insane asylum. Because after you left, she confronted me, saying that you were a slut. And I knew something was off. I could smell it in the air. So I had my PI get on it, and after we realized she’d followed you here …” his voice trailed off.

  But I shook my head.

  “But why?” I asked, voice trembling. “Why was she saying all that stuff about how only she’s good enough for you?”

  Thorn’s expression grew grim then.

  “A long time ago, Serena and I dated,” he spat, like the words were pure crud. “Over a decade ago. And I guess she was carrying some kind of torch for me. She still thinks that she and I are a match, even though I haven’t touched her in a decade, she’s so crazy.”

  I shook my head.

  “But why would she act like that?” I asked. “I mean, all that stuff about me being a slut? About outing you as well, calling you a … what was it she said? A manwhore?”

  Here, Thorn grew silent, face shuttered.

  “It’s not like that,” was all he bit out. “It’s not.”

  But I couldn’t be stopped, the last fifteen minutes had been so insane that the words tumbled out.

  “But what did she mean?” I pressed. “What was she talking about?”

  The billionaire took a deep breath, that heavy chest rising and then falling. And then he began.

  “Serena called me a manwhore because in a way, I am. I sleep with a lot of girls. Slept with, I should say,” he growled, turning bright blue eyes to me. “Once I had you, I stopped.”

  But I shook my head, still not happy.

  “But why? Was it abnormal in some way? This is NYC, lots of guys sleep with girls, it’s how the city works.”

  The alpha nodded, still holding my eyes.

  “Honey, I slept with a lot of women. A lot,” he added. “And some of those were from the ballet school,” he began carefully. “They were students at the Academy, girls who danced.”

  I nodded slowly. So Serena had been telling the truth after all. Lucy Jane and Natalie really did exist.

  “I see,” I said, breathing slow, trying to calm my pounding heart. “I see.”

  Thorn took another deep breath, seizing my hand.

  “I sleep with the young ballerinas, and admittedly, I wasn’t exactly shy about doing it,” he said roughly. “I banged a couple chicks from the incoming class, and it got Serena’s goat. Because she wasn’t young anymore, she wasn’t flexible and limber, and I didn’t want her. So she was jealous. She acted okay on the outside, but clearly, she wasn’t okay with it at all.”

  I nodded dully.

  “Right. A couple girls from the incoming class. Every year.” Oh my god, how many women was that?

  But Thorn could read my thoughts and he squeezed my hand then, eyes fierce.

  “But you’re different,” he growled in a low voice. “Things with you are different, Laney.”

  That made me look up slowly.

  “How? Why?” I asked carefully, meeting his eyes full-on. “What makes me different?”

  The billionaire was silent, the look on his face shutt
ered.

  “You’re different, that’s all,” he said. “Can’t you tell? You’re different in so many ways that I can’t explain, there are too many.”

  “Try,” I said in a low voice, still like a hummingbird poised in the air. “Just try, please.”

  But Thorn leapt up then, pacing in a rage, working off furious energy.

  “I can’t explain it,” he growled, long legs eating up the carpet while throwing me angry and confused looks. “I can’t explain it, but you’re special Laney.”

  And inside, my heart crumpled. Because of course, that was a lie. I wasn’t different from all the girls who’d come before me, and all the girls that would follow after I was gone. I was just the youngest, newest, freshest ballerina at the Academy right now, but in a couple months? There’d be a new crop of sweet young things, and Thorn would move on. There was nothing special about me, nada, zip, zilch.

  And the realization made my heart break. If it’d been broken already, now it lay in splinters on the floor, shattered beyond repair. I was devastated, absolutely gone with no way out. So there was only one thing to do. I stood then, heart heavy. Expression unreadable, I gestured at the door.

  “I see,” was all I said, voice tuneless. “I see. Could you leave now please? My mom and I have had a rough day, and we’d like our privacy.”

  “Laney,” Mr. Channing protested, looking at me with anguish in his eyes, that blue gaze pleading. I almost gave in, he was so goddamn gorgeous, even now, in the middle of a crisis.

  But the thing is, I’ve learned my lesson. Miss Lane’s crazy behavior had exposed the truth, and the big man couldn’t deny it. He could say that I was special, but there were no reasons behind his statement. There was no “you’re special because you’re beautiful,” “you’re special because you’re sassy,” or “you’re special because I’ve fallen in love with you.” I was special because I was young and dumb, willing to let him use my body any way he pleased. And unfortunately, that fades with time. Sooner or later, I’d become a big fat zero, a whole lotta nothing.