Freed (Assassin's Revenge Book 3)
Page 13
“Well,” I drawled. “Someone has to clean up the messes that people like you make, Sylvia.” My face hardened. “I wouldn’t talk about Jenny if I were you.”
Sylvia had never seen this side of me. I’d played the indulgent billionaire and the adoring boyfriend. I’d bought her expensive jewelry and took her to trendy restaurants to eat. She had no idea what I was capable of.
“This is it, Sylvia. This is the end of the road.” I opened the laptop screen. “I thought I’d share something with you first.” I smiled. “You will humour me, of course.”
She looked around, assessing her options, but she didn’t have any. She wasn’t a trained fighter. The door was closed and there were guards posted outside. I had a gun but she wasn’t going to be fast enough or strong enough to overpower me and get to it. Little did she know I was going to give her the weapon in a few minutes.
“What is this?” Her voice was infused with hate as she stared at the computer.
“This,” my voice was rich with satisfaction, “is your empire crumbling down on you.” I punched in a few letters. “Swiss bank accounts? You should check the balances.”
She looked and her face went pale. “There are others,” she finally spat defiantly.
“Indeed.” I hit a few more keys and turned the screen back to her. “Do you mean these?” I sneered at her. “Oh, Sylvia. My dear. Did you really think it was your charm that kept me at your side?”
She inhaled sharply as she saw the screen with its damning numbers. “That’s right, darling,” I taunted. “Every single Swiss bank account. Every single Cayman Island shelter. Those overflow accounts in Singapore. If I haven’t managed to strip it to zero, I’ve arranged for your assets to be frozen.” I steepled my fingers. “I did find it rather satisfying work.”
“Why? Is it because of the girl?”
My face darkened. I contemplated telling her who Ellie really was, but after years of lying, revealing the truth, especially to an enemy, did not come easy. “I did tell you not to mention Jenny again, didn’t I?” There was a bottle of water on the table. I opened it and drank nearly half the contents. “You will find that disobedience comes with consequences.” I exhaled, fighting for calm. I needed to be cold here, not hot with anger. “She is far more important than you’d ever realize, but you brought your own troubles on yourself. Did you really think you could get away with everything?”
“I don’t know what you are talking about,” she tried.
I rolled my eyes. “Oh come on, Sylvia. If I could find each and every bank account, did you really think you could hide how the money was made?” My voice grew icy. “Did you think it would all remain a secret? The young boys you took from Tunisia to the Emirates? The girls you took from the war zones in the Central African Republic and sent to Spain? Did you think you could get away with it? Did you think your money would render you immune? Did you think people would cower in fear and no one would act?”
“Why?” she whispered. “Do you think you aren’t tainted by this? You are Dylan’s…”
“Stop.” The tone in my voice left no doubt that I meant business. “I have news for you, Sylvia. I’m richer than you. I’m better connected than you and above all,” I met her eyes, “I am far, far more ruthless than you.”
I took the gun out from the holster in my jacket and set it on the table. Her eyes dilated in terror when she saw the weapon, but her expression became confused when I pushed the gun towards her. I eyed her coldly and once again took a deep breath. “You once tied up a young, uncooperative girl in a square in Africa, didn’t you, Sylvia?”
Her entire body stiffened. She had clearly hoped that no one would ever find out about this particular occurrence, but this wasn’t a story that could ever be kept quiet. “You posted your guards with guns on the perimeter. You warned that anyone who came near this girl with water or food would be shot, didn’t you Sylvia? You were teaching them all an object lesson, I believe?”
That fourteen-year old had died of thirst in the heat. I took another deliberate sip of water. There was only a sip or two left in the bottle. “Thankfully,” I said, “I am more merciful than you ever were.” I fished a bullet out of my pocket and held it between my fingers. “There’s one bullet. You can take your chances. Can you load it into the magazine and pull the trigger before I walk out of the room? Think carefully. Because this bullet is a gift.”
“Gifts can be squandered, or gifts can be used. Your choice.” I gestured to the water. “The door won’t open. This is your water. There’s no food. There’s no way out.” I rested the bullet at the edge of the table. “Except this bullet. One bullet to the brain, or you can die of thirst, just like that little girl did.”
I got to my feet. “This is where we part ways, darling. I’d like to say it’s been fun, but it really hasn’t.”
I set the bullet down, then I walked out of the room.
Though I knew Sylvia wasn’t a good shot and couldn’t load the gun up fast enough, it didn’t stop the danger from prickling in my back as I turned away from the most evil person I’d ever met.
As I walked towards my car, I heard the sound of the gun firing.
Chapter 21
Ellie / Jenny:
In a few days, it was all going to be over, and my heart hurt with a fiercer ache than my bottom.
There were still twinges of pain where Sylvia had caned me, but I was healing. My skin had been split open only in two places and the cells had already begun the process of knitting themselves together.
I stood inside the huge closet in Alexander’s bedroom and eyed my wounds in the three-way mirror but though my gaze was on my bottom, my thoughts were far away.
A cough sounded and Alexander walked in. His expression darkened when he saw what I was doing but he didn’t say anything. He hadn’t said anything since that night where he had held me close and told me that I was the only person that mattered. I’d slept in his bed and he’d hugged me all night, but he hadn’t reached for me. He hadn’t inclined his head towards the playroom with a toe-curling grin and he hadn’t pushed me down on my knees with a dark look of need in his eyes.
Yet I craved his dominance. I wanted him. Sleeping with his arms around me wasn’t enough. I needed to belong to him the way I did only in the playroom. I needed to submit to him.
I’d gone into the playroom yesterday. I’d been expecting a panic attack, but it hadn’t come. There had been far more good memories in this room than bad ones. Alexander tying me up and tormenting me with his tongue. Alexander laughing as he made me read a book out aloud to him, some silly romance thing I’d been engrossed in, while he held the Hitachi against my weeping pussy, testing my commitment to my book. In this playroom, the wounds inflicted in Abeokuta had healed and the scars that would forever be seared into me had faded.
I let go of the fact that Sylvia had caned me. Unlike in Abeokuta, I hadn’t been helpless. This time, Sylvia had hurt me because I’d allowed it. I’d weighed the prospect of my beating and my goal of revenge and I’d picked revenge. I’d had choices and in the end, it was the fact that I’d chosen that kept me from panic and made me want to reclaim Alexander’s playroom.
I didn’t want my last memories of this room to be of my ordeal at Sylvia’s hands. I wanted Alexander.
But he didn’t make a move towards me. There was guilt in his eyes when he gazed at my bruised ass. I could tell his failure to protect me from Sylvia was eating away at him. Sylvia had held power over me for too long. Now, she was affecting the precious last days I had with Alexander.
I wasn’t going to let it happen.
Just like the other night, when I’d entered his bedroom and pleaded for his touch, it seemed like I would have to make a move. I had the perfect weapon, one that Alexander himself had given me. My contract, the one he’d drawn up when I’d first arrived in Paris, had promised me four sessions a week and I was about to hold him to it.
“Can we talk?” I asked, my voice loud in the quiet.
I reached for the pale green cotton dress I’d taken off to study my wounds and shrugged it over my shoulders. “In your study?” I asked.
I hadn’t been in that room since my snooping expedition. With a start, I realized I still didn’t know why Alexander had a list with my name on it. I’d conveniently chosen to push that to the back of my mind, focusing instead on the pleasure he brought me in the bedroom and the playroom.
Not too long ago, I would have torn myself to shreds with harsh words for being so weak and so pathetic that I’d traded my soul for a little pleasure in the bedroom, but after Sylvia, I understood myself just a little better. In Paris, two years ago, I’d chosen to go home with him to try and heal a bone-deep fear of desire and the wreckage it left in its aftermath. This time around, ever since that night at the Palais Garnier, I’d chosen to let myself trust him in the playroom so I could reclaim my own sexuality without panic or fear.
I might have fallen in love with the man who revealed himself to me, an intriguing blend of dominance and humour and genuine kindness, but just as I wore a mask that hid my true motivations, so did Alexander. The way Sylvia had been brushed aside prickled at me. The list of fifteen names was still unexplained. Alexander had his secrets and in some way, I was entwined in them.
Hanoi would be an ending in many ways. If I managed to survive killing Dylan, I would have plenty of time to mourn. For the moment, I tucked away the doubts in the back of my mind. In the playroom, I trusted Alexander completely. Everything else was going to have to wait till after Vietnam.
We both sat down in the study. With shaking fingers, I pulled out the contract and extended it towards him. He stiffened almost imperceptibly when he saw what I held, then he raised an eyebrow at me.
“It says four sessions a week,” I said.
His eyes found mine. “After the beating you endured at Sylvia’s hands, the contract’s null and void,” he replied flatly. “You’ll find that there’s measures written into the document for this kind of thing. The money will be fully paid to your account, of course. Your sister’s treatment will not be in jeopardy as a result of this incident.”
“Don’t I get a say?” I was proud of the strength in my voice. “Mistakes happen. Can’t we get past this?”
“I promised I’d keep you safe from her. I failed.”
I was a trained operative. If he wanted to void the contract, he might not take me to Vietnam and that should have caused the most panic. Yet it wasn’t that risk that caused my heart to shrivel with agony. It was that he wanted me gone.
I only had the truth to use as a weapon. No contract. No games. Nothing other than honesty. Or, as close to honesty as I dared get, while still keeping my real identity and motivations a secret.
“Alexander,” I whispered. I slid down on my knees at his feet. “Sir.” My eyes met his. “Please don’t send me away.” I bit my lip and continued before he could speak and voice a rejection. “You’ve made the playroom a safe space for me. You’ve taught me what trust is and shown me the pleasures that come with surrendering my control. If you send me away…” My voice trailed away. I fisted my fingers into my palms and fought for calm.
“I need to go back to the playroom with you. I don’t want to flinch away from the canes.”
He contradicted those words immediately. “I’m not going to cane your ass.” There was no room to argue there. “You’ve barely healed. It’s too soon.”
I looked up at him, trying to bargain for what I needed. “I don’t want to be hit with the cane. That just hurts and I don’t get any pleasure out of it,” I said. “But you don’t have to use full force, do you? We could just play.”
He looked troubled. “You want to play with the cane?” He was repeating my words to buy himself some time. I could see the wheels in his head turning, though his thoughts remained concealed from me.
I nodded. “I need to reclaim your playroom. I felt safe there. I want to feel safe there again.”
***
Alexander:
She’d wanted to live in a house on top of a hill, surrounded by water, so she could see who was sneaking up on her.
Because of what Dylan had done to her. Because of what Sylvia had done.
I’d spent so much of my life trying to undo the damage Dylan caused, uncaring about its impact on my life, but this thing she asked of me? This was going to destroy me.
I knew she’d entered the playroom in the last few days, but what she didn’t know was that I couldn’t bring myself to enter that same space. I couldn’t approach the door without seeing the image of her bloodied bottom and her tear-streaked face. I couldn’t walk past without being reminded that I had failed to protect her.
Fifteen women and none more important than her. My bright star.
She could ask anything of me and I would move mountains to make it so. Anything she desired – if it was within my power to give, I would. Including this. Even if each stroke of the cane was going to tear a hole in my soul.
“You aren’t bound by the contract or the money. You could leave now.” My words were a lie. Her goal was Hanoi. Her target, Dylan. She wouldn’t leave. She couldn’t, not when she’d come so far.
Yet I could also tell that her request was real. She did need me to cane her in the playroom. It was a necessary part of her recovery and not a ploy to regain closeness to me. We might have stayed shrouded in our lies, but in the playroom, all the pretenses dropped away and only honesty was left.
“I really can’t.” Her voice was soft.
I nodded. “In that case, go upstairs. Get naked. Wait at the door to the playroom.” I smiled at her. “On your knees, of course.”
She closed her eyes for a long moment. “Thank you, Sir,” she said finally.
I stroked her hair gently, then my voice hardened. “Jenny,” I snapped. “Which part of go upstairs and wait was unclear to you?”
She grinned slightly at my tone of mock-displeasure. “Sorry Sir,” she laughed. “I’m going right now.”
I watched her leave with a smile on my lips, but my smile dimmed once I was alone in the room. I had no business playing with her. Hanoi was mere days away. When the truth all came out, she would hate me for what I had done. Worse, I would hate myself.
***
She was naked and kneeling at the entrance to the playroom, waiting for me.
Her trust awed me. Dylan had held her for two years, raping and torturing her. That she was here, anticipation in her eyes, waiting for me to tie her up and cane her? I was almost completely overwhelmed.
I needed her strength. I needed to know that Dylan hadn’t completely wrecked her, the way he had with Pamela and so many other women and as much as I needed to be brave and whole, she needed the same from me. She needed a dominant to push her to the edge, yet hold her safe. She needed to know that sex wasn’t only about pain. Dominance and submission wasn’t about a meek acceptance of the hand that had been dealt to her. Rather, it was about standing up tall and claiming what she wanted.
“Crawl in.” My voice didn’t betray my thoughts. She instantly obeyed, padding in with a sinuous grace into the room. Once she was in the spot I indicated, she knelt up, her legs parted.
She was beautiful. Perfect. She could never be mine.
I’d deliberately asked her to enter the room the way Sylvia had insisted. I knew what she needed. She’d once told me she couldn’t forget. Today was about creating a different set of memories, to overlay the terrible ones that Sylvia had caused.
If I could help her, I would. It was that simple.
“Good.” I praised her obedience and gestured for her to stand up. She rose and I moved closer. “Hands above your head.” My gaze lowered to her bottom, my fingers caressing her skin, checking on her wounds.
“It’s healing fine,” she volunteered. I could tell she wanted to play. Her body betrayed her arousal. Her nipples had become erect a
nd her legs were parted, waiting for me to touch her.
“Did I ask for an opinion, Jenny?” I bit out and she shook her head instantly. My lips twitched at her response and I brushed a kiss against her velvet-soft shoulder. “You should keep quiet then,” I suggested smoothly.
“Sorry Sir,” she said meekly, yet the undertone of laughter in her voice was obvious. Brat.
I led her to a spot against the wall, pulling a tall, narrow, padded bench from a closet. Two rods stuck out from the centre of the bench, to which I screwed on a dildo and a butt plug. I drizzled some lube over both of them. “Sit, cherie,” I invited.
She lowered herself on the toys, groaning as the twin shafts filled her flesh. “Oh god,” she whimpered, her moan changing to a gasp as the toys started vibrating inside. “Fuck.”
I watched as her eyes went hazy with pleasure. Little tremors shook her body. Her hips ground down on the toys, forcing them deeper into her pussy and ass. In minutes, she was close to her climax.
“Way too soon,” I chided, as I flicked the button, stopping the vibrations. “Were you thinking of coming without permission?”
Her expression slowly cleared. “No Sir,” she said softly. “I wasn’t.”
“That’s good, cherie,” I said. “Because you don’t want to be punished, trust me.”
The bench was tall enough that her feet didn’t touch the ground. I found leather straps and fastened her thighs to the conveniently placed steel rings on the end of the bench, holding her legs open. Straps circled her ankles as well, tying her to the iron legs of the bench.
“Give me your hands,” I instructed. I buckled leather cuffs around her wrists and drew her hands up in the air, attaching them to a chain that dangled from the ceiling.
She was now completely immobilized. Her body held taut by the restraints around her wrists, her legs spread open. Her puffy, shiny-wet pussy lips closed around the dildo in her vagina. Her clitoris hid under its hood, but not for long. My bright star was noticeably turned on.