by Nikki Sloane
His half-smile was back, this time accompanied by a shake of his head, as if what I was saying was too good to be true.
“And to answer your original question,” I continued, “I’ve always wanted to be a doctor. I loved my AP anatomy class in high school. I loved working in the ER on Friday nights when it was the busiest. And I’ve watched tons of different medical procedures, most of which I found fascinating.”
There just wasn’t any other career for me, and it made me realize I had no idea what career Luka was in. I’d allow this one question before pressing him again on whatever he was working up to.
“And you? What do you do?”
His eye color wasn’t quite so dark in the sunlight, but he still looked intense. “I’m the controller at Markovic Motors.” I wasn’t sure what he meant exactly, and it must have been evident, because he continued. “I’m the head accountant.”
“Oh.” He seemed young to hold such a high position, but he’d gotten his MBA from Randhurst, which was an excellent school. Nepotism may have played a role as well, although he seemed serious and older than his years. I forced myself to refocus. Breakfast conversation needed to move forward, and I needed to get back to my dorm. “Ask me the question, please.”
He looked resigned as he rose to stand, took a final sip of his coffee, and pushed his chair in. “We’ll go upstairs first.”
It filled me with anxiety. “Why?”
“Because your shoes and shirt are up there?” His tone was pointed.
Tension released in my shoulders. We were getting ready to leave. I stood, pushed in my chair, and glanced up at him. “Thank you for breakfast.”
My gratuity had no impact on him. I shuffled in my socks up the stairs and down the hallway to the room I’d slept in. I didn’t remember coming in last night, and wondered if he’d had to carry me, but I wasn’t going to ask.
Luka stood in the doorway watching as I gathered my costume shirt from the bathroom, and he pointed out my pair of black heels at the foot of the queen-sized bed. As I reached down to grab them—
“Tell me what you remember about last night.” His voice was deadly serious and my lungs tightened in my chest.
I abandoned my goal of picking up my heels and turned to face him. He had one hand on either side of the doorframe. It was a casual stance that displayed the lean lines of his body, but it was threatening as well. His positioning made me feel trapped. Words were difficult.
“Do you remember going upstairs with me?” he asked.
“Yes.” I hated how timid my voice sounded.
His expression was free of any emotion, but his eyes betrayed him. He looked nervous. “Do you remember kissing me on the couch?”
His nerves made mine worse, and my heart beat at a frantic tempo. “I remember a lot more than just kissing.”
His grip tightened until his knuckles were white. “I’m going to ask you that question now, and I need you to think carefully about how you answer. You have to be completely honest.” He took a deep breath. “Do you remember us fucking?”
Every muscle in me locked up at the memory of what we’d done last night. He’d stolen my virginity, hurt me, and now he was callously describing it as fucking. It made me so angry I could barely see straight. “No,” I said, finding my voice, and it was powerful. “I remember you raping me.”
“Shit,” he groaned. “Addison, that’s not how it happened.”
I balled my fists into the shirt in my hands. “I said stop.”
“And I did,” he answered quickly. His chest was moving quicker now too, breathing rapidly.
“I said no.” I clenched the shirt so tightly my hands began to ache. “I kept saying no, even when you put your hand over my mouth to keep me quiet.”
“Fuck.” His hands came down off the doorframe and he took a step toward me. “Yeah, maybe I got a little carried away last night. I drank too, remember? But we both wanted it. Don’t tell me you didn’t.” I backpedaled as he advanced on me. “We’d both been wanting it for years.”
I shook my head as a tremble worked its way up my legs. “Not like that.”
He paused where he was in the center of the room, disappointment etching his face. “Tell me what I can do to make it right.”
Make it right? There was no going back. He was smart, surely he knew that. “There’s nothing, Luka. You can’t undo it.”
He held my gaze for so long, I wondered if he was broken. He didn’t move an inch.
“No,” he said finally, his voice grim. “I can’t.” His posture slumped as if crushed by an enormous weight, and he raked a hand through his dark hair, leaving it askew. “And I don’t suppose there’s anything I can say to change your mind?”
“About whether or not you raped me?” I choked on my words. Why was I calling him out like this, goading him? It was dangerous and stupid.
He snapped up straight and his eyes narrowed. “Don’t use that word again.”
I bit down on my tongue for reinforcement. He turned away from me and paced across the room, then back my direction. His forehead wrinkled as if he were deep in thought.
“Look,” I said. “I’m hungover. I need a shower and a change of clothes. Drive me home and maybe I can move past what happened.” It was a total lie, but I wanted to get the hell out of here.
His motion ceased, and his piercing gaze ensnared me, but it wasn’t like before. There was a new emotion I hadn’t seen. It looked very much like cold, hard fury.
Oh, shit! I stumbled back as he stormed forward, and I slammed into the wall so hard the picture hanging beside me bounced and rattled on its hook. Luka’s hands were rough on my hips, pinning me to the wall, and he brought us nose to nose.
“You don’t lie to me, ever. Understood?”
“You’re hurting me,” I gasped. His grip was uncomfortable on my waist. “Please. Just take me home.”
I shook beneath his hands, but I stopped all movement as he leaned in, placing his cheek against mine, and whispered in my ear, his tone dark and full of malice. “You are home.”
When he released his grip, I was in so much shock I almost slid to the floor. He went to the bedroom door and threw it shut with a loud crash. I pushed off the wall, crippled by panic.
I almost shrieked it. “What the hell are you talking about?”
“This is the situation now. My family can’t afford for you to go to the cops, especially after the shit Vasilije got into.”
“Okay, I won’t—”
He held up his hand, cutting me off. “Maybe you wouldn’t at first, but you could change your mind at any time, and I can’t risk it. You were clear about what you think happened.”
My panic made it hard to stay rational, and hearing him dismiss what he’d done was almost as bad as the act itself.
“You raped me.”
He sneered, and his rage-filled expression was terrifying. “Did I not warn you about that word?”
He grabbed a handful of the shirt I was wearing, his expensive dress shirt, and hauled me up to him. I flattened my hands on the wall of his chest, bracing myself. And then his hands closed on the open collar, one on either side, and he ripped downward. A few of the buttons flew off, while others simply gave way.
I was too stunned to do anything but gasp at the sexual violence. My brain was paralyzed with fear. Instinctively, I tried to get away, but once the shirt had been torn open, he continued to pull it down my arms. It became a rope around my elbows, holding me in place.
“Stop!” My heart was pounding in my ears. My throat was a desert, and I trembled to the point I could barely stand. I fought him to pull the shirt back up and cover my bra. “What are you doing?”
“You’ve lost this privilege.”
No, no! A panicked cry tore from my throat as he tugged the shirt the rest of the way down my arms. At least with them free I could fight back. I swung, slapping at his face and chest, but he quickly snatched up my wrists. He clenched them so hard I yelped and bent to try to alleviate
the ache.
“Luka, no,” I yelled. “Stop.”
His face was an emotionless mask. “You don’t have control over this situation. You can make it easier on yourself by accepting it.” His grip pushed me toward his feet, forcing me downward. “Kneel.”
“What? No!”
“Yes,” he snapped. “I gave you an order.”
My response was instantaneous. “Yeah? You and your order can go to hell.”
He let go of my wrists and shoved my shoulders down, forcing me onto my knees. When I struggled to get up, his firm hands held me down. “When I tell you to do something, you do it.”
“Are you out of your—”
“No more talking. Disobey, and you’ll be punished.”
His expression was serious, but . . . really? He expected me to just do as he said, after what he’d done? The words burned in my throat. “Let me go.”
It happened so fast. His hands dipped behind me and undid the bra clasp on my back. My palms flew up to hold the bra cups in place so I could cover myself, and his action effectively trapped me. I couldn’t take my hands off without exposing my breasts. He gripped my shoulders once more, holding me on my knees as I stared up at him, shocked.
Why was he doing this? Words failed me, and when I was silent for a few long seconds, he let out a breath. “Good. I’m going to take my hands away, but you’ll stay like this.”
He obviously wasn’t as smart as I thought, and I was grateful. As soon as his grip was gone, I slid my hands behind my back and hooked the bra closed, while attempting to climb to my feet. I moved as fast as I possibly could—
The result was I ended up face-down on the bed, the comforter smashed against my nose, and it was hard to breathe.
Shit, shit, shit! I scrambled up on my arms, but his strong body crushed against mine, pinning my hips to the edge of the bed. And he’d been ready for me to try it because his hands seized my wrists and wrenched my arms behind my back. Without support, I flopped down on the mattress, which muffled my startled cry.
I wasn’t going to allow this to happen. Goddamnnit, fight! I slammed my heel down on the top of his foot. He grunted with displeasure, and suddenly red-hot, excruciating pain radiated up my arm. The agony of him twisting my wrist stole my breath and made me into a statue.
“Don’t do that again,” he ordered in his harsh, deep voice. “Fighting me is pointless.” There was a loud smack as his palm connected with my backside, delivering a blow. “You’re mine now.”
Chapter
Seven
Luka’s terrifying words twisted in my mind and a glacier crept in to surround me.
“This is how it is,” he said, devoid of emotion. “It’s going to be hard, but we’ll get through it. You’ll do what I say, whether you want to or not.”
“I won’t! Get your hands off of me!”
His grip twisted, sending more fire along my arms. “You will, or, as I already told you, you’ll be punished.” He used his foot to kick my feet further apart and pressed me down into the mattress. “Hold this position.”
My brain emptied of coherent thought when the back of my skirt was lifted. When I tried to break free, his hand came down and slapped against my ass, stinging me through my panties. I choked on air and froze. He used my panic to position me again, pushing me into the mattress so my back was flat and straight.
“Perfect.” His single word, uttered in a low voice, made me tremble. “In fact, prove to me how perfect you are, Addison.” His tone mocked me. “Tell me pi to the eighth decimal place.”
It was as if my brain hit a wall going sixty miles an hour. “What?”
He slapped his palm against my already flushed skin, and this one really, really hurt. “Pi to the eighth decimal place. Now.”
I whimpered. Was he fucking serious? I swallowed a breath and forced my mind to cooperate. Maybe if I got through this bizarre exercise, he’d let me go. “Three,” I said in a shaky, confused voice, “point one four . . . one five . . .” I didn’t want to think about the number, I wanted to think about what was happening. I needed to think about escape, but it was like he was doing this to control every part of me. “Two—”
Even before I felt the lash of his hand, I knew I had screwed up, and it made it worse. I tensed for the blow and he didn’t disappoint. I cried out right after the loud smack of skin hitting skin.
“Nine!” I said. “Three point one four one five nine two.”
“That six places. You’ve got two more.”
I bit down on my wavering lip and pinched my eyes shut. I had no idea what number came after two.
“I’m waiting.”
“I . . . don’t know,” I admitted.
I expected him to deliver another strike, but instead he rattled off the full thing in a blur. In my confusion, I couldn’t process what he’d said.
“Pi to the eighth decimal,” he ordered.
Unexpected tears burned in my eyes. I still had no idea. “Can you repeat—”
His hand scooped beneath the band of my bra and he pulled so hard, I heard threads ripping. It forced me up and I arched my back to keep my arms from hurting more than they already did.
“Three point one four.” He let go of the bra band and the elastic snapped against my back. “One five nine two.” His arm curled around my body, shoving a hand inside my bra. “Six.” His fingers circled my nipple and pinched. “Five.”
Teeth latched onto my neck as his pinch on my nipple suddenly turned white-hot with pain. I cried out and went limp. Luka put his hand on the center of my back and shoved me on the bed, back into the position I’d been in before.
“Three point one four one five nine two six five.” It spilled from my lips without thought. I just wanted it over. His hold on my wrists eased away, and I left them there, crossed behind my back. They’d gone too numb to move anyway.
As soon as he stepped back from me, I slid down the bed, collapsing into a puddle on the floor. I dug my fingertips into the thick carpet, trying to ground myself. To hold myself together.
Things went hazy.
“Shh,” a voice whispered in my ear. “It’s over. We won’t have to do that again.”
I was sitting on the bed, and Luka’s arms were around me. Holding me in an embrace. Was I having traumatic delusions? I wondered what the hell his statement meant.
His lips feathered kisses over the curve of my neck, and he continued to whisper soft, reassuring words that only made my confusion worse. My hands clung to his forearm, holding him tight to me, which was in direct conflict of what I wanted. His fingertips brushed against my bare shoulder, and it made my skin crawl. I hated him touching me this way. Softly, as if I were something he cared about.
My mind screamed in protest, but my outer shell stayed hard and silent.
His expression had been unassuming, but layer by layer, his gaze went cold. The shift that went through him was obvious. Whatever game he was playing with me had just resumed. The bed we were on sat in the corner of the room so I was trapped. I couldn’t get off without him stopping me, so I’d have to bide my time.
“What’s your plan?” he asked lazily.
I stared at him. He didn’t deserve anything from me, including the sound of my voice.
“For escape?” he continued. “You’re smart, I’m sure you’ll try. But let me fill you in on the reality.” He brought his face level with mine. “Assuming you make it to an exit, the house has a security system and alerts are sent to my phone. You won’t be able to get a door or window open without me knowing about it. And once you get outside, then what? Where will you go?” He scrubbed a hand over his jawline. “The house isn’t close to anyone else.”
He climbed off the bed and pointed to the bathroom.
“Come on, let’s get you cleaned up.”
When I didn’t move, his shoulders lifted and fell in a sigh.
“Addison.” His tone was harsh. “Do what I tell you, or I’ll make you. I didn’t really enjoy what just happened,
but it was necessary, and I’ll do it again if I have to.”
I shuddered and tried not to think about it. My lower body was on fire from where he’d spanked me. I was too shell-shocked to go through it again, and forced my body to cooperate. So I moved like a zombie into the bathroom, and stood beside the sink with my arms crossed over my chest, as if it could shelter my bra-clad breasts from his eyes. He went to the large whirlpool tub and ran the tap, adjusting the water temperature. The rushing water was the only sound in the room as he filled the bath.
While he waited, he stood and rested his hands on his hips, his attention focused on me. I couldn’t hold his gaze. I blinked rapidly, staring at the wall. It was so unfair. Yesterday I would have quivered over how good he looked. His strong arms and trim frame was accentuated beneath the fitted t-shirt, and jeans which hung perfectly on his hips. Now I cowered in fear, simply from his intense stare.
“Take off your clothes.”
I clutched my arms tighter around myself, and my pulse began to climb.
His footsteps signaled his approach, and I sensed the shadow blocking out the light, but I refused to look at him. So I flinched when his warm fingertips lightly touched my shoulder. I stood motionless as those fingers curled over my bra strap and began to drag it down.
He’s already seen you, I thought bitterly. Let him think there are no more surprises from you, and use it to escape.
My arms were pried slowly from my chest, and as the cup of my bra was pulled down, his mouth closed on my neck. What the fuck was he doing? He’d raped me last night, assaulted me moments ago, and his soft, gentle attitude now crossed the wires in my brain. I couldn’t handle it.
He unhooked the bra and pulled it away from my shuddering chest. I was heaving my breath, struggling to remain indifferent. I’d pushed him earlier and he’d escalated, so maybe if I did nothing, he’d leave me alone.
It was a different kind of assault like this. His warm, needy mouth carved a line down my sensitive neck, and by the time he reached my breasts, my nipples had tightened. I’d turned away from him and stared at the counter, but his tongue on the bud of flesh forced my gaze up and into the mirror. I watched as he bent me back over his arm so he could better suck on my nipple.