by Lana Grayson
I agreed with a reluctant nod. Staying quiet would be more difficult than standing before the monster again, but the payoff was worth it.
“Fine,” I said. “But I’m not wearing the damn dress.”
“Dinner’s at eight o’clock.”
I might have asked Nicholas to stay if only to borrow some of his confidence. For the first time in hours, I was alone.
That only gave me the silence to think.
And I had no idea what I was doing.
I showered, letting the thick, rolling steam fill the bathroom before I dipped under the water. The heat soaked through me, the water embraced me, and every evidence of the wildest night of my life rinsed away and circled the drain with the remnants of my sanity.
Not only did I fall in love with a Bennett, I let all three of my step-brothers have their way with me.
At the same time.
And not just once.
I thudded my head against the tile. It was easy to submit at Nicholas’s hand. I never thought I’d find any comfort in the possession of another, especially a man who tracked me through the night and stalked me over road and cornfield to kidnap me for his family’s twisted benefit.
He kept me as his pet and prisoner.
And I longed for him to join me under the water.
Christ. I wasn’t just digging my grave. I sat at the bottom of an open pit, kicking the dirt walls and ripping at roots to collapse the damn thing over me.
This was a dangerous game made riskier by my loyalty to Nicholas. Every second trapped in the luxury of the Bennett’s prison endangered me. No matter the love and promises, escape was the only logical, sane, and safe solution.
But leaving would enrage Darius. Potentially hurt my step-brothers. Ruin Nicholas’s chances to destroy his father in the planned takeover.
If I left, every second of my freedom would tempt Darius to end my life before the trust awarded to me. At least if I stayed in the estate, Nicholas, Max, and Reed could protect me until we concocted a better plan than hoping they’d get me pregnant.
Was it worth the risk? Probably not.
Was it worth attempting if it meant Darius would rot inside his own family?
Definitely.
Silence cursed the estate. I dressed in a pair of jeans and a t-shirt and forced myself from the room.
My pulse deafened me to everything but the voice screaming in my head to hide, push the dresser in front of the door, and arm myself against the evil that was Darius Bennett.
I waited at the top of the grand-staircase.
Fifty stairs to compose myself.
The first ten punished me as though I stepped upon broken glass. My nails clawed against the banister, aching as I fought instinct and descended. My shoes clipped against the stone in a distinctive echo.
Jos-Mik.
Jos-Mik.
Jos-Mik.
At least it offered an imagined poise.
Money. Power. Stock. It only mattered to me if I had it all and Darius had none. Now, it was the only weapons I had.
They waited in the dining room.
I was five minutes late, and Darius Bennett had counted every spent second.
His eyes weren’t dead, but the specks of color decayed into a dingy brown. He claimed the head of the table and surveyed his family, his home, and his prisoner as though everything in the world had bowed at his feet to produce what he wished. What wasn’t delivered, he took with violence.
During the night and into the day, I stayed with my step-brothers. Not an inch of my body went unexplored, and every pleasure was meant to break me.
But I hadn’t broken.
Not even close.
So why did my resolve crumble?
Three men took me during the night, but the only touch I could remember was his.
Darius’s cold grip on my hips. The searing pain of his attempted invasion. The foul promise of his lust. He punished me then. I’d be fortunate if he didn’t kill me now.
I couldn’t do this.
My knees buckled. I’d either collapse in sobbing horror before Darius, or I’d leap over the table and aim a dinner knife for his jugular.
But I’d vowed never to show weakness in front of a Bennett again.
They foolishly left a knife at my place setting.
“My dear, you decided to join us?” Darius greeted me with a smile that bared teeth and words that curled over my throat. I froze, and I didn’t know if that made me hate him or myself. “Your dinner is getting cold.”
I’d choke on it before I managed to swallow. Prickles of panic stabbed at my skin.
Nicholas pulled my chair out for me. When I didn’t move, he took my wrist.
I flinched, maybe to pretend like I didn’t trust him or maybe because it was a legitimate recoil. Nicholas hesitated before his grip tightened.
I despised this.
I had every reason to fear Darius Bennett, but not cause to suffer from it.
I once confronted the man who kidnapped me, eager for the fight. I accepted that my step-brothers were meant to rape me. I used my infertility as a shield and sacrificed my very freedom to defend my family’s honor.
In a matter of weeks, everything changed. The man I defended didn’t deserve my loyalty. The men I feared protected me. And now? I knew something Darius didn’t.
I would own him.
Whether or not he thought he could violate me. Whether or not he’d try again.
I. Owned. Him.
I took my seat, and our family dinner began.
“You aren’t wearing the dress I picked out,” Darius said.
I didn’t answer.
“Sarah, you are my daughter, and I expect you to act as such. You will wear what I lay out for you.” He hummed. “Besides, I thought you’d look very pretty in it.”
Every word grated me until I shredded like the pot roast simmering on the platter. I reached for the wine.
“No, no.” Darius’s tone would turn the food rancid. His light, patronizing chastisement stuck as hard as a slap to the face. “No alcohol for you, child. We aren’t taking any risks.”
It wouldn’t matter, but I couldn’t say it. I gritted my teeth as Nicholas passed me a glistening goblet of water.
Reed grabbed a dinner roll. “You aren’t twenty-one yet anyway. Hate for someone to slap us with kidnapping and underage drinking.”
I perked an eyebrow. “Heaven forbid.”
Max exhaled. He stroked the flogger he kept at his side. Always. The damn thing intimidated me, infuriated me, and delighted me. I understood the warning. Like Nicholas said, I was supposed to be quiet and polite.
“My dear, you haven’t taken your vitamins.”
I tensed, refusing to look at Darius. Nicholas did his bidding, passing the tiny crystal ramekin to my plate. I stared at the pills inside.
They had to be kidding.
In what universe would I ever take any pill Darius offered me? I might have been a fool for staying at the estate, but I wasn’t suicidal.
Darius sipped his wine. “A prenatal blend of folic acid and vitamin D, and a woman’s multi-vitamin. All excellent for the baby.”
I tasted blood. “I’m not pregnant.”
“You will be, soon enough. Someone should ensure you’re taking proper care of yourself.”
I didn’t appreciate his concern. Darius surveyed my body as though he could see through my clothing. I hoped he didn’t notice the goose bumps.
“I can manage it myself.”
“But all this stress.” His voice gentled. It only sickened me. “It’s too much for you. First your father’s death. Then your brothers’ accidents. Your poor mother was so traumatized, and then there was your school work and the company.”
“What about getting kidnapped? Being held prisoner? Getting—” My throat mercifully closed before I uttered the R word.
“All stress is bad stress.”
“And you’re the cause.”
Darius chuckled as he cut his meat. “Hush, child
. Hysterics are so unbecoming.”
Nicholas gripped my knee under the table, but I wasn’t the one he should have controlled.
“I’m not taking those pills.”
“Doctor recommended. You can take them in the morning with your asthma medication.”
“Oh. So now I’m allowed my medication?”
“You need to be healthy and strong. And, my dear, if our little experience in my office proved anything, it is that you are neither healthy nor strong.”
“You son of a bitch—”
“Language, Sarah.” Darius’s warning was exactly the melodic tone he’d take with a child. “We are at the dinner table.”
“How dare you!”
“Lower your voice.”
“You tried to rape me!”
Darius cast a glance to his sons with a smile. “In my preferred method, you wouldn’t have suffered any consequences.”
I burst from my chair. “Fuck you!”
“Ms. Atwood,” Nicholas said. “Enough. Sit.”
No way. Not now.
Not if I was to confront a man who showed no remorse for his cruelty.
Max frowned. He tapped his fingers on the flogger. “Apologize.”
“For what?” Raw anger surged inside me, poisoning me with hatred. “I’m not taking your vitamins. I’m not eating your dinner. And I won’t be spoken to like I’m your…your—”
“Daughter?” Darius met my gaze. “Sarah, it’s time someone accepted you as their daughter. It’s not as though Mark ever loved you—”
“Don’t you dare!”
I lunged over the table. Nicholas caught me before I grabbed the carving knife from the roast. I swore and twisted, beating at his arms. His grip loosened only as a second pair of hands seized me.
The coiled tribal tattoos were once warning enough. Now it didn’t matter. Max forced me over the edge of the table. I yelled, but the first strike of his hand ached even through the denim.
No!
Darius insulted me, terrorized me, humiliated me, and I was the one who got hurt.
I couldn’t let it happen again. Not while Darius watched. Not while he seasoned his meat and sucked the juices from his finger, grinning as Max pinned my arms behind my back and unhooked the button on my jeans with a casual pop.
I swore as the denim was yanked down. My panties fell next. The strike against my backside echoed within the dining room.
“Enough, baby.” Max spoke with words too soft for the monstrous crack against my defenseless body. “Don’t pull this shit at the dinner table.”
“Let me go!”
His grip only tightened. Struggling did nothing, and Max positioned to avoid my kicks.
Another blow. Harsh and cruel. The anger bubbled in my chest. I held my breath if only to will an asthma attack over the crushing defeat of a sob.
A third strike.
Max knew how to hurt. I thought I knew how to take it. But that was before—before Darius trivialized his attack, before my step-brothers aided in my shame, before Nicholas refused to help as Max laid me across our dinner, bare and exposed, for his hand to slap in violent punishment.
Why weren’t they helping?
Ten terrible spanks crumpled me in tears. Max nodded to his father and passed the butter to Reed as I peeled myself up. I shook Max away as he offered to help with my jeans.
I handled that defeat on my own.
“Disruptive child,” Darius sighed. “Take her upstairs and dress her properly for a dinner with her father.”
Nicholas nodded, taking my elbow. “She’ll return when she’s decided to behave.”
Darius arched an eyebrow but merely buttered his bread. “Good luck, son.”
The carving knife rested too far from my hand. Nicholas yanked me from the room before I uttered another profanity. I resisted his hold until he tossed me onto my bed. The door slammed behind us.
Nicholas loomed over me. “Have you lost your mind?”
I wasn’t prepared to fight him too, not while the adrenaline surged and Darius’s words echoed in my ears.
Darius deserved to die. To be hurt. To fear, just as I feared.
And his sons...
“You didn’t stop him,” I hissed.
“No, we didn’t.” He pointed to the door. “I told you to behave. You knew what would happen if you challenged my father.”
“He insulted me! He threatened me!” My words chopped against my horror. “He gloated about almost raping me!”
“Sarah, he thinks we’ve raped you too.”
The fires fueling my rage sputtered and extinguished under Nicholas’s gaze.
He was right.
God he was right.
And in my terror, I nearly exposed us all.
“Sarah, you have to trust us.”
Easier said than done—especially with Darius’s crawling words grating my skin and Max’s strikes aching my behind.
Nicholas hesitated, the gold in his eyes fracturing into a hard amber. “You do trust me, don’t you?”
“Nick—”
“Sarah, what happened downstairs had to happen. My father can’t suspect anything. If he learns how I feel about you—”
“I know.”
He knelt beside the bed, taking my hand in his. His kisses delighted my fingers, chasing away the pain, frustrations, and fears.
But not all of them.
My twisting stomach answered the most important question for me.
Did I trust Nicholas Bennett?
No.
But I had to try.
“I will protect you,” he whispered. “But what happens in my bed and what has to occur before my father are not one and the same.”
“I hate him, Nick.”
It wasn’t what I meant. I did hate Darius, but something far worse controlled me.
I feared Darius Bennett. Surrendering to that fear would ruin us.
“If you’re going to survive, if we plan for any of this to work…” Nick’s mocha words caressed me, even in warning. “You have to promise to submit. You have to control yourself…or it isn’t just you who will get hurt.”
The bite to my anger was lost in a sigh. “I know.”
“Give him what he demands, Sarah.”
“What happens when he demands me?”
“It won’t happen.”
I picked up the dress, but my fingers twisted in the soft silk. “Darius has always gotten what he wanted when he wanted it. It’s only a matter of time.”
“Not if you behave.”
Designer fashion was hardly worth risking my life—or the safety of my step-brothers. I shimmied into the outfit. The pink silk fit perfectly, a delicate and modest design that complimented my petite curves.
It was the perfect outfit, something any father might have chosen for his young daughter. I shuddered.
Nicholas breathed the compliment. “Lovely.”
I reluctantly followed him back to the table, humiliated like an errant child ferried away while she pitched a tantrum. He led me before his father. I swallowed my pride only to choke on it.
“Sorry.” The apology soured my stomach.
Darius lowered his fork. He waited, chin raised with an aristocratic dignity that hid his perversion under the guise of silvered hair, a clean-shaven jaw, and perfect suit.
“Sorry...?” Darius prompted.
“For my behavior.”
“Try again.”
Nicholas squeezed my shoulder.
I’d forgive myself once the trust gave me control of the Bennett Corporation. It made every sacrifice that much easier.
“Sorry, Dad.”
“That’s better.” He smiled, sincere only in its attempt to shame me. “Now you can eat your dinner before it gets cold.”
I took my seat.
“Oh, my dear, the dress looks lovely on you.”
Lovely.
My stomach twisted as I choked down the vitamins Darius offered.
Lovely.
It was the same word Nicholas used to describe me. It meant nothing, but my skin still crawled.
Nicholas asked me to trust him.
I’d never survive my captivity if I made the same mistakes twice.
“Nicholas, come into my office.”
Dad sounded mad. What didn’t I do right this time?
“You’re in trouble.” Max snickered so our tutor wouldn’t hear.
Reed gurgled behind him, bashing his blocks into the wall. “Trouble!”
I didn’t make Dad wait. I knocked on the door to his office before entering. Dad had the firecracker I thought I hid centered on his desk.
Uh-oh.
“What is this, son?”
It was supposed to be a prank on the nanny until Max dropped the matches in the pool.
“I told you these were not allowed in the house,” Dad said. “Unless you’re trying to set the estate, the forest, and half of California on fire, you don’t light firecrackers. And you certainly don’t hide them from me.”
The crop pulled from Dad’s desk. I tensed.
“Nicholas, I’m your father. You do not keep secrets from me, is that clear?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Remember, son,” he said. “You will never be able to hide things from me. I will always know.”
Her breathless cough woke me in the night.
Sarah hid the asthma during the day, but, when she slept, her greatest insecurity came to life. She wheezed in her sleep, shifted against me in nightmare, and murmured soft words when my hands brushed her curves.
Sarah was only honest when she was asleep. Fortunately, I hadn’t asked her for truth, only submission.
The delicate creature sharing my bed was more fairy than girl. Her hair was pale as corn, her eyes wide and innocent, and her temper quick and punishing. Circumstance trapped her between two worlds. She belonged at home and on the farm and with what remained of her family. Instead, I kept her in my command, between my sheets, and captured within my will.
If we were all honest, her captivity bound me as much as it restrained her. I loved her, and because of my obsession, I’d never let her go.
One day, it would ruin me. But until then? Sarah Atwood slept naked in my bed.
And she was mine.
I shifted the blankets. Sarah pouted, her lip puffing with sleepy indignation. My pillows swallowed the petite, defenseless girl within the dark sheets and my darker intentions.