Claiming Her: A Reverse Harem Romance

by A. J. Snyder

In one swift motion, he has me pinned against the table on my stomach and the skirt of my dress lifted up to my shoulders. The first blow is unexpected, and I cry out in shock from the pain. He hit me square on my bottom; the lacy material of my panties doing nothing to lessen the hurt.

  The next few strikes are littered over my thighs and backside, but I bite my lip to keep from crying out again.

  I won't give him the goddamn satisfaction.

  My father has beaten me enough times in my life that I can tune the pain out. It will hurt later when the adrenaline wears off, but right now…I'm numb. He can hit me all he wants; it won't change a damn thing. I still want to go home, and I still…hate him.

  Angry tears form in my eyes as he continues to beat me, but I refuse to let them fall. I refuse to give in. Not to him.

  Lash after lash reins down on me, and I stay completely still, taking every bite of the leather across my sensitive flesh without so much as a flinch. This only seems to enrage him more, unfortunately.

  Finally, I feel his hands leave my body as Jackson fights to pull him away. "Enough!" Jackson's loud voice echoes through the room. "Do you want to be like them?" he screams.

  Immediately, the belt drops from Lucien's hand, clattering to the floor. I can hear him mumbling through his harsh, urgent pants. Gently, he pulls my skirt down to hide what he did. His rapid exhales whisper across my neck, but I don't dare move.

  If there's one thing I learned growing up with an abusive father, it's that it's better to simply play dead. Just like in the animal world, it makes your attacker give up quicker if they think you're weak or too injured to fight back.

  Spinning me around to face him, I see a pained expression on Lucien's face with perhaps…remorse laced into his features.

  I don't even give him a chance to apologize for what he did. It's unforgivable. "You're a monster," I hiss at him, my voice trembling only slightly. My words seem to cut straight through him as he quickly releases his hold and takes a step back from me.

  It's at that moment that Maria rushes into the room and surveys the mess on the floor. "Master Lucien," she says, out of breath. "I will clean it. Just give me a moment to ---."

  "No!" he roars, and I jump at the sound of his deep voice echoing through the room. His hair falls rebelliously over his eyes as he points at me and says, "Number Seven made the mess, and she will clean it up."

  Before I can even process the fact that he's resorted to calling me by my number and not my name, I watch Maria disappear into the kitchen, only to reappear a few seconds later with a caddy full of cleaning supplies.

  Maria, the always strong, always confident, never taking anyone's shit kind of woman, is trembling in fright when she pushes the caddy into my arms, not even meeting my eyes. "Clean. Clean," she whispers, pleading with me and probably having no idea of the beating I just endured.

  I glance at Jackson, who stands only a few feet away. He stays silent, but I can see the hard, disapproving stare he's giving his cousin.

  The only eyes on me are from the one person I don't want to be staring at me. And if looks could kill, I'd drop dead on the spot. Lucien's cold glare sends a shiver up my spine. It's as if he's looking right through me.

  Huffing, I set the caddy down and snap on a pair of sterile gloves. Then I retrieve a small, plastic garbage bag and begin to pick up the broken pieces of my plate and the larger pieces of food, placing everything into the bag.

  "Start scrubbing the floor after you're done cleaning up your fucking mess. I want this entire room spotless," Lucien demands with a tight voice. Then he looks up at the others in the room and says, "Don't let her leave until it is."

  And with that, he turns and leaves the room, leaving the three of us staring after him in bewilderment.

  The entire room? That will take me all night. This room is bigger than most people's apartments.

  Maria eventually brings me a bucket of water and adds a copious amount of some kind of anti-bacterial floor cleaner.

  "I'll help," she whispers, but I wave her off.

  "I made the mess. I'll clean it," I tell her before hiking my skirt up to my knees and kneeling on the floor. No one else should have to clean up after something I did. It was my decision to act out, so now I have to deal with the consequences…even if I'm already feeling them.

  I grab a sponge, soak it in the soapy water and begin to scrub. My teeth sink into my bottom lip as I hold back my anger and my tears.

  Angrily, I dump the sponge back into the soapy water and scrub the floor vigorously.

  Jackson looms over me, and I can tell that he wants to say something. But he keeps his mouth shut, and so does Maria. No one needs to say anything that hasn't already been said. And besides, I'm too mortified to even talk to them right now.

  I keep my face placid, schooling my features even though my knees are already starting to hurt from being pressed against the hard, unforgiving tile.

  I scrub and scrub and scrub the floor even though it feels like knives are stabbing through my kneecaps, my back is so sore that it takes everything in me not to scream out in pain, my fingers are completely numb, and my entire backside and thighs feel like they're on fire from the beating I received earlier at the hands of that monster.

  My body is screaming in protest, but I don't stop. I focus on the task at hand, wanting to complete it just to spite him. I'm sure Lucien expects me to break.

  Well, he has another thing coming.

  Because I won't break. Not now. Not ever. This is a cakewalk compared to what I've been through in the past. He just doesn't know that.

  When I've gone around the entire room and am at the same place in which I had started, Jackson softly says, "That's enough, Adeline."

  I stare down at my trembling hands that are red, sore and pruned from the water, and I begin to sob uncontrollably.

  Everyone has their breaking point, and I guess I just reached mine.

  Jackson's strong hands grip my arms. "Can you stand?" he whispers.

  I shake my head. Gently, so gently, he helps me up, and I cry out as the pain I've been pushing out of my mind for hours assaults me all at once.

  Jackson then scoops me up in his arms; and I collapse in exhaustion against his chest, breathing in his clean, masculine scent. "You are one tough chick," he tells me with a sad chuckle. Then he looks to Maria and says, "Bring my bag and a glass of water to my room."

  To his room?

  I stay quiet as Jackson carries me upstairs. He's strong, not even breaking a sweat when we reach the top of the tall staircase.

  We go to the left, and my eyes widen when we pass by that god-awful bedroom I've been forced to stay in. To my relief, we continue down the hall, and he stops in front of a different door and pushes it open.

  The room is large with several pieces of matching dark wood furniture, floor-to-ceiling windows and an en suite. A large, four-poster, king-sized bed rests in the center of the room on a geometric brown and blue rug with a fireplace nestled against the opposite wall. There are some clothes strewn about on the floor and a couple empty bottles of water sitting on the dark cherry writing desk. Jackson is clearly the exact opposite of his cousin. I can't imagine that Lucien lets a single piece of dirty clothing on the floor of his own bedroom.

  Scowling and internally chiding myself for even thinking about my captor, I let out a soft sigh when Jackson lays me down in the middle of his bed on my stomach. The comforter is slightly rumpled, but the bed feels like heaven against my aching body.

  I look up Jackson, and he gives me a small smile. "I'm sorry about what happened down there," he says softly. "Lucien can be…well, he's…" He stops talking and shakes his head, clearly wanting to apologize for his cousin, but not knowing where to start.

  A soft pounding sounds on the door, and I jump. My hands fist into the sheets as I begin to shake, knowing who will be on the other side. Lucien's come for me. He's going to drag me back to that room and lock me in…or worse. And I don't know if I can survive worse r
ight now.

  "P-please," I plead to Jackson with wide eyes. I want him to hide me…or protect me, if that's even possible.

  Jackson studies my reaction and frowns. "Relax. I'm sure it's just Maria."

  I note that he has no fear of Lucien. I wish I could share his calm state, but I'm not able to relax until I see Maria standing on the other side of the door.

  She hands Jackson a black, leather medical bag and a glass of water before quickly leaving as quickly as she came.

  Jackson sets everything on top of his writing desk. Then, he opens up the split handles of the bag and roots around inside until he finds what he's looking for --- two bottles of pills. I watch him as he dispenses two pills into his palm before crossing the room.

  Sitting on the edge of the bed, he holds the glass and pills out to me. "Muscle relaxer and pain pill," he explains. "They'll both make you pretty sleepy, but I'm sure you could use the rest," he says with a forlorn look.

  I stare at the two white pills in his palm and frown. "Jackson, are you ---"

  "Jax."

  "What?"

  "You can call me Jax. Jackson sounds so formal, don't you think?"

  "Are you a doctor, Jax?" I ask, looking up at him.

  "Yes," he answers. "Well, technically," he quickly adds. He watches me for a moment. "I can bring the bottles over if you want to read them, but I promise these won't hurt you." Then he adds, "I won't hurt you either."

  I've had enough broken promises to last me a lifetime, but I decide to take Jackson at his word. Besides, the pain is becoming almost too much to bear. Snatching the pills and grabbing the glass from his hands, I down the pills with the water in a few quick swallows.

  "Attagirl," Jackson says with a kind smile. He stands and strips out of his suit jacket, throwing it on the floor to add to the collection of dirty clothes in the corner of his room, and it almost makes me giggle how unlike Lucien he truly is. Then, he grabs the chair from his desk, spinning it around so the back is facing me before he sits down. "So, let's have a chat before you drift off into opioid dreamland." He sits and ponders for a moment before asking, "So what did you enjoy doing, you know, before you came here?"

  I think about his question, but two things come to mind straightaway. "Well, I love books." I had a huge library at home filled with almost every book imaginable, and it was my safe haven. Most nights I would fall asleep with a book in my hand. "I also enjoy playing the piano."

  His eyes light up. "Books and piano. Got it," he says as if he's storing the info away for later.

  I study Jackson's handsome features and the stubble lining his strong jaw. He seems calm and…normal. His relaxed demeanor puts me at ease, but I still don't feel totally trusting of him. Mostly because he's Lucien's cousin. "When you said you're technically a doctor, what did you mean?" I ask.

  "I didn't get my degree," he replies. "I quit halfway through my residency." He hangs his head sadly. "My father was sick…and it was impossible to concentrate on anything else but the cancer eating away at him. So, I made a choice," he says with a sigh. "I took care of him until he passed."

  I can hear the emotion in his voice, and it makes me feel sad for him. "I'm sorry," I whisper.

  His gray eyes slowly rise to meet mine. "Thank you," he says sincerely. "Anyway, I was top of my class, and I know more than most licensed practitioners." Then he adds, "I also majored in psychology while I was a pre-med student." Shifting his gaze to me, he says, "I mainly took the courses so that I could better understand Luc."

  My brows furrow in confusion. I don't know much about my captor, but I know he has…issues, and that's putting it mildly. "What's wrong with him?" I blurt out.

  "That's a good question," Jax says quietly. He closes his eyes and lets out a heavy sigh. "Lucien had a rough and terrible childhood. My dad found Luc and took him in when he was only a boy. We're the same age, but our relationship was bumpy, to say the least, those first few years."

  "You didn't get along?" I ask, suddenly wanting to know more about Lucien's past.

  "I wish that was as simple as that, but no, it was much, much worse. He was incredibly withdrawn and fearful of everything…and everyone." Jax folds his arms over the back of the chair and rests his chin on top of them. "It took some time, but my dad was eventually able to draw him out of his shell." He pauses. "If you only knew half of what I know…" His voice trails off, and I desperately want to know what he was going to say.

  "What happened to him as a child?" I urge.

  "I'm afraid that's his story to tell, not mine. I wouldn't betray Luc like that." He hesitates for a moment before adding, "I'll just say that if you knew what he'd been through as a boy, you would feel differently about him. You would understand why he is the way he is." He sits back in the chair. "He needs control and structure because he never had that as a child. He gained a lot of phobias and idiosyncrasies along the way even through his recovery, if you can call it that, but they are all justified, I assure you."

  "How did he get the scars on his back? I felt them when we were, you know…" I can't even finish that sentence without feeling a hot blush running up my chest and neck.

  "You…he let you touch him?" Jackson asks with a shocked expression on his handsome face.

  "Yeah." My eyes drift close, but I force them back open. The pills he gave me must be kicking in. I'm certainly not as in as much pain as I was before. But I'm not ready to stop talking to Jax. I want to find out more about Lucien even if I hate him right now. For some reason, I have some sick need to understand him.

  "I know he doesn't like being touched. Is that because of what happened to him as a kid? Did someone hurt him?"

  Jax doesn't divulge any more than a simple nod.

  "When Lucien was…hitting me, you had asked him 'Do you want to be like them'. What does that mean?"

  "I was trying to get through to him by reminding him of what happened in his past. He was hurt by a lot of people, and I've never seen him lash out that way before. Quite frankly, it scared the shit out of me," he says with a shake of his head. "Lucien is so different with you, unpredictable, so unlike himself. You bring out this completely different side of him. It's amazing and terrifying all at the same time." He holds my gaze as he tells me, "I'm sure right now Luc is completely losing his mind in worry and regret over what he did to you, Adeline. If he could tell you he was sorry, I know that he would."

  I can tell that Jax is very protective of his cousin, who is obviously more like a brother to him. I completely respect that. Lord knows my sisters never stuck up for me…even when I told them about our father beating me.

  They all suffered the wrath of my father at some point in their lives, but I always got the brunt of his anger. He never locked any of them up and forbade them to have friends or even have a normal life, however. No. He saved all of his torment and rage for little old me.

  "Where did you go just now?" Jax asks, his voice breaking me out of my thoughts.

  I stare down at the comforter and pick at an imaginary thread. "I…I know what it's like to have a bad childhood. I'm sure I didn't suffer as much as Luc has." His nickname comes out so easily, but it feels strange on my tongue. I swallow hard past the lump forming in my throat before I continue. "My father…is not a good man. He used to hit me. A lot."

  Jax moves closer, sitting on the edge of the bed by me, and I let him. "Go on," he prompts.

  "I always had to be perfect for him. I was supposed to be a boy, you know, an heir to his empire, and I think he takes his anger out on me because I'm not." My eyes drift close again, but I force them open. "My mom died right after I was born, so he didn't have a chance for any more heirs. I'm it." My lower lip trembles. "He arranged a marriage between me and Giovanni, my fiancé. He wants me to give him the heir he never had with my mother."

  The thought of my son being raised in the Italian mafia and running the Valenti empire someday suddenly seems like a travesty, and I don't know why I ever agreed to let my father marry me off in the hop
es of giving him an heir.

  I was so blind to everything before I came here. And if one good thing comes out of this whole thing, it's the fact that I'm wanting more for myself than simply being my father's little puppet. If I ever go home, things will never be the same. I won't allow them to be.

  Placing a gentle hand over mine, Jax asks, "Do you love the man your father wants you to marry?"

  "I think I was starting to fall for him, yeah. I think maybe we could have been happy one day." I worry my lip between my teeth. "But now…I don't even know what I want."

  Jax pats my hand gently before withdrawing his. "You have plenty of time to decide. But trust me when I say, don't let anyone else control your fate, or you'll end up miserable."

  I nod at his words of advice. "Thanks, Jax," I tell him, sleepily.

  "I'm gonna go downstairs to mooch some food from Maria since our dinner was…well, you know. Sleep well, Addy. You're safe here."

  My eyes are half closed while I watch Jackson leave his room and close the door. And then I start to drift off after that.

  My dreams are plagued with the unknown…of how long Lucien will keep me here…and what he's going to do with me.

  CHAPTER 23

  LUCIEN

  "YOU'RE A MONSTER."

  What I did last night to Adeline…beating her with that belt…makes me exactly that --- a fucking monster.

  I know what it feels like to be at the mercy of someone who is hell-bent on hurting you. So, what the fuck would possess me to do that to Adeline?

  The look on her face and the words she spit at me after it happened will be seared into my memory forever. If Jackson hadn't been there to stop me…who knows what would have happened. Would I have been able to stop on my own?

  I don't know the answer to that question, and it fucking terrifies me.

  I spent the better part of the night holed up in the gym, pounding away at the punching bag until my knuckles were sore and bruised, and then running full speed on the treadmill until I almost collapsed. After my punishing exercise routine, I huddled in the corner of my shower long after the hot water ran out. Shivering and freezing cold, I finally emerged from the safety of the glass-enclosed cocoon and managed to dress myself on autopilot.