by Rae Riley
After a quick breakfast at the hotel’s cafe, Bryce went back to his hotel while one of his men took me to the salon. I wondered how many men he had and if I would ever learn their names. When we arrived at the salon, it became clear that Bryce had given the stylist specific instructions, and I was told not to argue.
Staring at the finished result, I wished I had. I wasn’t oblivious to Bryce’s intentions. The shade of auburn that my hair had been dyed was nearly identical to Alex’s. The way that my hair had been styled made me look like her twin. Waves of nausea rolled through my stomach. He’s psychotic! Seriously, delusional. I didn’t realize that Bryce had entered the salon until he was standing behind me.
“Incredible,” he remarked, leaning down to kiss my cheek. “Absolutely stunning.”
“This is sick,” I whispered, meeting his gaze in the reflection. “If you think that I wi–”
“Miss Moore, remember your place.”
Closing my eyes, I let out a slow breath and apologized.
Holding out his hand, he helped me stand. “We need to get to the airport.”
I nodded. He had told me during breakfast that we would be flying back to Savannah. It still felt weird that I would be going to Alex’s hometown without her.
There was a driver waiting for us when we stepped out of the salon. Sitting in the back seat next to Bryce, I stared at him. He really wasn’t horrible looking. In fact, I would have found him attractive if I hadn’t known that he was secretly bat-shit crazy. “Why do you need me?” I asked.
Bryce’s gaze met mine. “Excuse me?”
“Why do you need an Infidelity employee?” I repeated. “You just don’t seem like the type of guy who has trouble finding a date.”
“This isn’t about my ability or inability to find a date,” he scoffed. “What did Alexandria tell you about her visit home?”
“That her mother and stepfather wanted her to marry you and when she refused they took away her trust fund,” I replied, avoiding the topic of the rape allegation.
“Why did her parents want her to marry me?”
Because they’re just as crazy as you are. “Because you raped a girl and needed Alex to be your alibi.”
His eyes flashed with anger. “I did not rape Melissa,” he asserted, his voice strained. “But I do need an alibi. You, Miss Moore, are it.”
“But I wasn’t with you,” I pointed out. “How can I be your alibi?”
“The police can’t prove that you weren’t with me.”
“You want me to lie?” I screeched. “To the police? During a trial? No! I’ll get in trouble. I’ll go to jail! I ca–”
He leaned over me, trapping me against the seat as he placed a hand on either side of my head. “You will do as you are told. As I said, the police cannot prove that we weren’t together. I have travel documents stating that we were. You won’t get into trouble or go to jail as long as you do as I say.”
My body tensed as his breath penetrated my nostrils. A man wearing a dark mask flashed through my mind. Could Bryce have been the man in my apartment? My sense of smell told me yes, but I didn’t know how or why.
“Do you understand?” he asked.
“Y-yes, Bryce.”
His lips covered mine in a kiss, soft yet firm. “Good girl,” he praised, moving back to his seat.
***
“God,” I gasped as the car drove through the gate. Carmichael Hall. It sounded more like a museum than an address. “This is where you live?”
“You live here now too,” he reminded.
I forced an apprehensive smile.
“Shit,” he muttered as we got closer to the house.
Is it a house? Or would it be considered a mansion? “What’s wrong?” I asked.
“Do you remember our story?”
“Yes.” While on the plane, he had gone over our story and what I was supposed to say.
“Good. You’re about to have your first performance.”
Getting out of the car, he led me through the house. He entered the dining room first. Voices of a man and a woman happily welcomed him home. The greetings stopped abruptly when I followed him in.
Immediately I recognized the man. Why is Alex’s stepdad having dinner with Bryce’s mom? Maybe Alex’s mom is here too? Knowing the two women were friends, I looked around the room for her, jumping when Alton’s palm slapped the table.
“What the fuck have you done?” he growled, his dark gaze targeting Bryce. “You already screwed everything up with the whole Melissa fiasco, and no–”
“Alton, stop,” Bryce interjected. “Everything that got messed up because of that slut… I have a way to fix it.”
Alton frowned and looked at me. “You look familiar,” he commented. “Who are you?”
Taking a step forward, I said, “I’m Che–”
“She’s my alibi,” Bryce interrupted. “The police can’t arrest me for what happened to Melissa if I have an alibi.”
“Alexandria is your alibi,” Alton stated, his jaw clenched.
“Alexandria is refusing to play along,” Bryce argued.
“And she will?” Alton asked, motioning to me.
Bryce and I both nodded.
“Why?” Alton questioned, looking at me. “Why would you lie for him?”
I opened my mouth to answer, to repeat the story that I had been told.
“Because I’m paying her to,” Bryce stated, crossing his arms over his chest as a sickening grin spread across his lips.
“Bryce,” his mother and I both screeched at the same time. I glanced at her. Her expression was a mixture of fear and anger.
Alton's face turned a shade of bright red. “You’re trusting your life, your freedom, to a whore?”
“Not a whore, Alton,” Bryce countered. “A companion.”
Chapter Three
“What the hell are you talking about?” Alton's booming voice echoed through the room.
“There’s a company,” Bryce calmly explained.
“Bryce,” I pleaded. “The confidentiality agreement.” I might as well have not said anything at all. My words fell on deaf ears.
“A company called Infidelity,” he continued. “They sell companions, not whores. Chelsea is my companion for the next year and according to the agreement she signed, she has to do whatever I want her to do, including be my alibi.”
“Chelsea?” Alton looked at me again. “Chelsea Moore? Alexandria’s roommate?”
“Yes, sir,” I answered quietly, blinking away the tears that threatened to spill over my lids. It was one thing for Bryce to know about Infidelity, but it was another thing entirely for his family and friends to know that I was a whore.
“You stupid piece of shit,” Alton growled, moving toward Bryce. “You bought Alexandria’s roommate? How do you think she is going to react when she finds out that you slept with another one of her best friends? Do you really think that she is going to come running back to you now?”
When face to face with Alton, Bryce didn’t back down. “She was never going to come running back to me,” Bryce scoffed. “And you’re the idiot if you ever thought she would.”
The slap echoed through the room. Bryce’s mother cried out. My hands covered my mouth. Bryce’s face turned a deep red color – not from the slap he had just been subjected to, but from anger and embarrassment.
“Take the whore to your room,” Alton ordered, standing taller. “Leave her there and then come to the manor. You too, Suzy. We need to have a family meeting.”
The three of us stayed silent as Alton walked out and then Suzy rushed over to Bryce. “Are you okay, baby?” she asked, her hand gently running over the injured cheek.
He shrugged her off and turned toward me, grabbing my upper arm. I tried to keep up with him as he marched me through his home.
“Bryce, slow down,” I pleaded. “You’re hurting my arm.”
He didn’t respond. My heart raced with fear. I could feel the anger emanating off of him. Reaching
what I assumed to be his bedroom, he pushed me inside. I expected him to leave, to follow Alton’s decree, but instead he joined me in the bedroom and locked the door.
Even in the dark I could see the anger in his eyes. “Are you okay?” I asked, ignoring the pain in my arm.
“Get on your knees,” he ordered, running his hand through his hair.
“W-what?”
“Get on your fucking knees,” he yelled. Grabbing my hair, he pulled downward, forcing me to obey.
“Bryce,” I whimpered.
“Shut up,” he growled, lowering his face to mine. “What are you?”
“Y-your companion.” I hoped that was what he wanted to hear.
“No,” he declared. “Out there, to the rest of the world, you’re my companion. In here, you’re my whore. Say it!”
His grip on my hair tightened. “I’m your whore,” I whispered, the tears no longer hidden behind my lids.
“And now you are going to be a good little whore and do as you are told. Right?”
“Yes,” I cried.
With one hand still wrapped in my hair, he unbuttoned his slacks. His hard cock sprang toward me. Swallowing my tears, I moved closer to him. I had barely opened my mouth before his cock was pushing against the back of my throat. His hands controlled my head, roughly moving my mouth up and down. Remembering my psychology classes, I told myself that he was only being rough because of Alton’s slap. In that moment, he lost control and now he felt as though he needed to get it back. I forced myself not to fight it, to give him the control he needed.
Bryce didn’t last long. However, instead of spurting his come down my throat as I expected, he pulled out and sprayed it across my face. Closing my eyes, I didn’t try to pull away.
“Good girl,” he praised.
As I reached for the box of tissues I had seen sitting on the nightstand, I heard the click of a camera shutter. “Did you just take a picture?” I asked, quickly wiping his come off of my face.
“Maybe I should send it to Alex,” he teased, holding his phone out to show me the picture. “I’m sure she would get a kick out of it. Her best friend covered in my come.”
“Please don’t,” I begged, frantically standing to meet his gaze.
He placed his phone in his pocket. “I have to go. You will stay in this room until I tell you otherwise. Understood?”
“Yes, Bryce. Please don’t send that picture to Alex.”
“Go take a shower,” he said, smirking. “You smell like a whore.” He walked out of the room, closing the door behind him. His footsteps echoed down the hall.
Fuck! Fuck-fuck-fuck-fuck-fuck! I couldn’t control my tears as I reached for the light switch. The suitcase that I had brought with me was sitting in the corner. Bryce’s driver must have brought it up. Reaching for my purse, I pulled my phone out of the front pocket. I had turned it off during the flight and had forgotten to turn it back on once we landed. Maybe Deloris can do something to stop the picture from reaching Alex? Maybe she can block Bryce’s number? Something?
Immediately notifications popped up.
1 MISSED CALL
From: Alex Collins
1 VOICE MAIL
From: Alex Collins
With trembling hands, I listened to the voice mail.
“Hey girl,” Alex’s voice greeted. “Let me know when you’re coming to New York. I know you have that big secret job in DC.” She paused. “Oh my goodness, Nox is in DC for business. Maybe I’ll be able to visit you there when my classes allow. In the meantime, I’m ready for some girl time. Things have been… Well, this message isn’t long enough to finish that sentence. We need wine. Tell me you’re getting to New York before Friday. I miss you! Call me.”
Tears continued to flow down my cheeks and a sob escaped my throat. Just hearing her voice made my heart ache, knowing the betrayal she would feel if Bryce sent her that picture. Against my better judgment, I called her. I needed to at least try to explain.
“Hey!” Alex greeted after the second ring. “I’m so glad to see your name! When are you getting to New York?”
I couldn’t even attempt to hide my sobs. It was too much. “I’m so sorry,” I cried. “So, so sorry!”
“What is it?” she asked, her voice switching from carefree to concerned.
I didn’t answer. How could I even begin to explain? I couldn’t without telling her about Infidelity.
“Chelsea, talk to me,” she begged. “Are you all right? Where are you?”
“I’m so sorry,” I repeated, her concern breaking my heart. “I never meant to hurt you. Please understand.”
“I’m trying to, babe, but you're not making sense,” she said. “What’s wrong? Why are you sorry?”
With my back against the wall, I sank to the floor. Flashes of Bryce’s dominance raced through my mind and another sob escaped my lips. In that moment, forming words other than I’m sorry was beyond my ability. Instead of trying, I just repeated my apology over and over, praying that one day she would forgive me.
Chapter Four
Thud
My heart raced as I moved from my bed. I knew what was going to happen. My brain begged my body to stop, to hide from the intruder that I knew was in the apartment, but my legs seemed to have a mind of their own. Tears streamed down my cheeks as I neared the front door. Stop, stop, stop! Please, not again!
I heard the footsteps behind me but couldn’t defend myself from the blow to the back of my head. I fell forward, landing hard on the floor. “Help!” I screamed as the spell over my body finally broke. I tried to scramble away but the intruder quickly pushed me onto my back and moved to straddle my stomach. I squirmed underneath him but he had effectively pinned my arms to my sides. I looked at his face, expecting to see the black mask. I gasped when instead of the mask, it was Bryce’s face staring back at me.
“What are you doing?” I tried to yell, his weight on my chest making it hard to breathe. “Get off of me!”
“Oh no, my little whore,” he hissed, his fist colliding with my cheek.
I cried out in my pain, unable to protect myself.
“I own you.” Another blow landed. “I can do whatever I want to you.”
“Stop,” I pleaded. “Stop!”
“Chelsea.” Bryce's voice penetrated my nightmare. “Chelsea, wake up!”
My eyes shot open as I pushed away from Bryce’s voice, quickly moving to sit on the other side of the bed. I was still in the room he had left me in the night before. After a long shower, I had lain down on the bed to wait for his return. I must have fallen asleep. Looking out the window, I realized that it was morning.
“Hey,” he said in a soothing tone, raising his hands in surrender. “Calm down. You were dreaming, I think. You were telling somebody to stop. Was it bad?”
My heart was racing too fast to allow my mouth to form words. Instead, I simply nodded.
He sat on the bed next to me, holding his arms open to wrap me in a hug. “Come here,” he quietly offered.
I shook my head, pulling the blankets closer to my body. “I’m fine,” I whispered, staring at the bedspread.
“Did I do that?” he asked, motioning to my arm. There was a bruise in the shape of a handprint where he had held on too tightly the night before.
Again, I nodded.
He pulled me into the hug that I didn’t want. “I’m sorry. Was the dream about me?”
My body tensed against his as I shook my head, not wanting him to know the truth. My brain tried to rationalize that the dream wasn’t real, that Bryce hadn’t been the one to attack me in my apartment. I convinced myself that memories of the attack had mixed with the events of the previous night to create the nightmare I had experienced. That was the most logical explanation.
“I’m sorry,” he repeated, “for being so rough with you last night. It’s just… Alton has a tendency to drive people crazy.”
“I thought you liked Alton,” I commented as my body started to relax.
“I do
. He’s a talented businessman. Honestly, after my dad left, Alton’s been the closest thing I’ve had to a father figure.”
“Your dad left?” If Alex had told me that detail about Bryce, I couldn’t remember.
“Yeah,” he said, moving off the bed. “Anyway, I came here to tell you that I will be going out of town for a couple of days.”
“Where are you going?” I asked, surprised.
“Nowhere that concerns you.” It was an instant reminder that he was in control, not that I needed one after the previous night.
“When will you be back?”
“On Sunday evening,” he responded. “On Sunday morning you will be going shopping with my mother. Until then, you are to stay in this room. I don’t need you to cause any more trouble while I’m gone. Meals will be brought to you. Do I need to have one of my men outside the door to make sure you comply?”
My brow furrowed. There was too much in his declarations that I wanted to argue with. “Shopping?” I asked. “Why?”
“Because I told you to.”
I rolled my eyes, unable to stop myself. Quickly he bent at the waist to lean over me on the bed. His sudden closeness made me gasp.
“Because I doubt that those suitcases contain a large enough wardrobe to last you a year,” he explained, his face inches from mine. “You should know that I do not explain myself often. Also, it is improper and rude to roll your eyes. Do not do it again.”
“Yes, Bryce,” I said, hoping to calm his unexpected anger. “Thank you for explaining your decision to me.”
“We are having dinner at Montague Manor on Sunday evening,” he continued, moving away from me. “Make sure that you purchase the proper attire.”
I wanted to question him again, to ask why we would be having dinner at Montague Manor or what the proper attire was. Instead, I bit my tongue and relaxed as he walked out the door. In order to survive the year-long contract, I would need to avoid arguments. The easiest way to avoid an argument was to grin and bear it. I was determined to make that my mantra for the next three hundred and sixty-three days.