I undo my seatbelt with shaky hands and stand. I see the back of three male heads about five rows ahead of me. I run toward them, not knowing what I plan on doing but needing to get off this plane.
“Shit!” one says when I near.
The other two turn to face me right as I approach. One stands and grabs my right wrist. I go to open my mouth, but he yanks me down to the floor.
I scream and try to push myself up when the third stands. A plate falls to the floor along with a fork. I grab the fork with my free hand. When a guy bends down to pull me up, I lift the utensil and jam it into the nearest piece of flesh I can find.
I’m screaming, thrashing around on my stomach, when someone grabs my hair and slams my head into the floor. Then everything goes black.
I continue to hug the toilet, retching all the alcohol I had last night along with whatever they gave me. My vision is still a little foggy, my body still drowsy. It not only knocked me out but also left me with a pounding headache. Or that could very much well be the hangover.
I hear the sound of shoes clapping on the hardwood in the adjoining bedroom before they enter the bathroom. I stay on my knees with my head down, refusing to look up.
Out of my peripheral vision, I see a pair of shiny black shoes stop beside me. Whoever he is, he doesn’t say anything and just stands there looking down at me as I continue to vomit so much I start to dry heave.
“Go away,” I order roughly, knowing it’s my brother. He said he’d be back for me. He probably realized I wasn’t going anywhere with him after he dropped me off at home. He’s such a fucking ass.
He continues to stand there, being the dick of a brother he is. I sit back on my heels. I wipe my face with the back of my hand and place my pounding head in my hands.
“Get up.” He finally speaks.
I look up to see a pair of baby blue eyes, and I blink, thinking he’ll go away like magic, but he doesn’t. Avery stands above me. I can’t help it. I burst out laughing. “Is this some kind of a joke?” I ask, looking behind him for my brother. They have to be playing some very shitty trick on me. “Preston?” I call out, and my voice squeaks.
He doesn’t answer or laugh. He’s dressed in a black button-down with the sleeves rolled up to expose his forearms and black slacks with his hands in the pockets. A skinny black tie around his neck. He looks good and dangerous.
His dark blue eyes stare down at me. He doesn’t look annoyed or happy. Just indifferent.
“I said go away,” I snap, narrowing my eyes on him. “I don’t have time for whatever game you’re playing, Avery.” I suck in a long breath and scream out. “Preston …?”
His hand shoots out, and he grabs me by my hair and drags me up off the floor, cutting me off.
My scalp stings, and I hiss in a breath at his roughness. “What the hell …?” I try to fight him off, but he’s too strong. He shoves my back against the cool wall, and my head hits it with a thud. My eyes fall closed as the room starts to spin all over again, making my nausea return.
“Look at me,” he demands as his hand wraps around my throat, holding me in place.
I open my heavy eyes, trying to calm my racing heart. His hand tightens on my neck, and it takes my air away.
His blue eyes narrow on me, and he leans in, placing his face in front of mine. “When I tell you to do something, you fucking do it.”
Gripping his wrist, I try to get his hand off my throat, but it’s no use. My lips part, trying to suck in a breath, but nothing comes. My back presses into the cold wall, and I release his wrist and place them on his black button-down. I try to push him away, but he just steps closer, his body pressing into mine. Dots form in my vision, and tears well up in my eyes, but I refuse to let them fall or show any kind of weakness.
Not this time.
Not for this man!
“Do you understand?” he demands.
My mouth opens to answer, but nothing comes out. The dots double, and I can feel my heartbeat in my face, making my already sore cheek throb.
“Answer me!”
“Y-yeesss,” I manage to choke out.
He releases my neck and steps away from me. I crumple to the floor once again like a sack of bricks. My already bruised knees sting from the force of meeting the cold tile. Coughing and holding my neck, I take a deep breath, and it burns. The tears still threaten to fall, but I hold them back.
My headache intensifies, and I feel the rush of blood pounding loudly in my ears.
“Get up.”
I look up at him, and he glares down at me, daring me to defy him again. His hands are back in his pockets, and his muscular legs wide. He looks relaxed, but I can see it in his eyes. He’s waiting for me to disobey again. He wants to slam me back up against the wall, and this time, I have a feeling he won’t let go until I pass out.
Deciding I’m better conscious than knocked out, I slowly rise on my shaky legs. His eyes stay on mine.
“Where the fuck am I, Avery?” I ask, and my voice is scratchy. I’m surprised I was even able to get a word out. “And why did you bring me here?” It doesn’t make any sense. Eleven years and all of a sudden here I am.
He ignores my questions. “Your clothes are in the closet.” He looks me up and down, pulling his lip back in disgust, adding, “You look like shit and need food. Get dressed and meet me downstairs for dinner.” Without waiting for me to argue, he walks out.
I make my way over to the sink on shaky legs and look at myself in the mirror. I have a bruise on my cheek, a cut on my lip, and bruises dot my shoulders and arms. I know they’re not from him. They are from the five men who I tried to fight last night. No matter what I did, they were ready for it.
I turn the sink on and splash my face with cold water and then rinse my mouth out. I see a toothbrush and toothpaste sitting on the countertop, and I snatch them, needing to get the taste of vomit and lingering Fireball out of my mouth.
Once done with that, I yank the towel off the railing and dry my face, careful of the bruises.
I look at myself once again. My tank top is covered in dirt from being shoved down to the ground last night, and it hurts to swallow.
Avery can kiss my ass!
I refuse to bend to his demands. I haven’t seen him in years, and then all of a sudden, I see him three times in one month. What is his game?
Why does he even care? I left a world that would end up killing us both. Now he’s dragged me back into hell.
I pat myself down and realize I don’t have any pockets for my phone. Walking into the bedroom, I yank the comforter back to see if it’s on the bed. When I don’t see anything, I fall to the floor and yank up the bed skirt. There’s nothing under the bed. “Where is it?” I growl to myself. I search all over the bedroom for my phone and my purse but come up empty-handed. I go over to the other door and yank it open, finding a walk-in closet. I ignore the rows of hanging clothes and go to the black safe that sits on the floor in the back. It’s about three feet tall and two feet wide with a keypad. I rub my hands over my face and sigh. My mind is too foggy. My body too tired to think clearly. “Think.” What numbers would he use to unlock a safe? I try his birthday. Nothing. I try his father’s. Mother’s. Both of his brother’s. Letting out a long breath, I try mine. I laugh when it denies me too. Of course, he wouldn’t use mine. I mean nothing to him.
Sitting back on my heels, I run a hand through my tangled hair. Fuck! Now what?
I stand and turn around to leave the closet but stop in my tracks when I spot the stuffed bunny sitting on the top shelf to the right. Its black eyes staring at me, freezing me to my core.
“Happy seventh birthday, Presleigh,” my best friend, Avery, says.
“Thank you,” I say as I take the little box from him.
“Open it,” he says excitedly.
I look up at my mommy. She told me I couldn’t open any of my presents until my party later. “Go ahead,” she urges.
I pull back the pink wrapping paper and toss it to
the floor to reveal a white box. I tear it open as well to see a stuffed bunny inside. “She’s so pretty,” I tell him, smiling down at her. She’s white with big, floppy ears and a little pink nose. I squeeze her to my chest and beam. “Thank you, Avery.”
My mom picks up the trash and walks away, and I catch him staring at me with a smile on his face. “What?” I ask.
He takes a step toward me and flicks one of my pigtails. “Your hair reminds me of the bunny’s floppy ears.” He laughs. “I’m gonna call you Bunny.”
My heart pounds in my chest at that memory. It’s like a ghost that haunts me. He kept it after all these years? Why? To shove it in my face? To make me remember that he was once my friend, then lover turned enemy?
I practically run out of the closet and slam it shut. He’s not gonna play this game with me. Not now. Not ever.
I exit my room and come to a long hallway. My options are to turn left or right. In front of me is a wrought-iron railing, so I walk over to it and look down into the foyer of his house. I’m not surprised to see that it’s just as big and expensive looking as the houses we grew up in. I make my way over to the winding staircase to my left, keeping my right hand on the rail for support. The stairs are steep, and my legs still shake. My bare feet hit the white tile floor of the foyer, and I look around. Soft crème walls and high ceilings. No pictures. No art. Bare. Just like my house.
Slowly, I explore the large living room over to the adjoining room.
I walk into the dining room, and he looks up at me from his place at the head of the large mahogany table. It could easily fit twelve guests. His jaw tightens and his eyes narrow when he sees I didn’t change. Then a slow smile spreads across his face, and it looks more intimidating than his scowl. He lets out a deep laugh, and I hate how it makes butterflies form in my stomach. This is bad. Really bad.
“Something funny?” I snap.
He places his elbow on the table and runs his fingers along his lips. His blue eyes slowly look me up and down. And I wish I would have changed into something that covered more of my skin. “Just admiring how much you like being punished.”
I stop dead in my tracks. “Punished?” My mouth goes dry, and I immediately rub my tender neck.
He nods once and then drops his eyes to his phone. “Every time you disobey me, I’ll punish you.”
I tighten my jaw. “Fuck you.”
“That makes two punishments. Wanna make it three?” he asks, not looking back up at me.
I decide to shut my mouth and plop down on the seat to his left. I take a look around to see a floor-to-ceiling window behind him and nothing but woods beyond it ...
“Stop.”
My eyes go to his, and he must have been watching me. He sits back in his chair. “Let’s get the ground rules out of the way. One, you’re mine.” My eyes narrow. “Two, I’ll do with you what I want, whenever I want.”
“You will not …”
“Three, you disobey, I’ll punish you. And four, don’t even think about running.”
So he was watching me.
“I placed a tracker in your left arm when you arrived,” he says calmly as if we’re discussing the weather and not my imprisonment.
“You what?” My hands instantly go to my arm and feel around for a lump. I find one a couple of inches up from my wrist.
“It has an alarm on it. If you run, it will alert me.” He finally lifts his eyes to look at mine. “I will find you. And you will not like what I do to you.”
I swallow at the threat in his voice.
“Why am I here, Avery?” I ask, tears threatening my eyes again. I’m his prisoner. He’s gonna make me his own personal slave. He’ll beat me if I defy him. Well, I refuse to do whatever he says just because he thinks he’s God. He can beat me all he wants. I can take a punch or even a kick. Him slapping my face felt more like foreplay than abuse.
I can tell he’s trying to decide if he should answer my previous question or not. Finally, he speaks. “Your brother …”
“I’m here because of Preston?” I snap.
“You are collateral.”
I hang my head. What the hell has my brother gotten me into? What could he possibly be doing working with Avery?
Foggy thoughts of a phone call with Preston the other night comes to mind.
“Presleigh! You don’t understand what he is capable of. How dangerous he is,” he urges.
“I do.”
“Get your ass off this phone and on the jet. Now, Presleigh. If you don’t, he will make a move.” He growls. “And it’ll be too late.”
Guess this is his move. To kidnap me for something my brother has done. My chest tightens as my pussy gets wet.
I’m so fucked!
“Let me call him.” The words rush out of my split lips.
“No.”
“Avery,” I snap. “I wanna talk to Preston.” I’m gonna rip him a new one. “Where is my phone?”
He shakes his head. “You are not allowed to use any electronic devices.”
“You’re joking?” I ask as my mouth drops.
I hang my head when he says nothing. My family was just as twisted as Avery’s, but Avery and I always said we would never become them. Guess he changed his mind. My brother, on the other hand, was always in trouble. He was like both my father and my mother. I swore for a long time I was adopted. “How much?”
I look up at him, and he stares at me with an expressionless look. Eleven years ago, I could tell you what he was feeling anytime I looked at him. I guess over the years, he has learned to hide them. I’m sure his father taught him that, or he just no longer feels at all. “How much?” I demand when he ignores me.
“It’s not about money.”
“Bullshit!” I snap, slamming my palm on the table. If my brother is involved, then it’s about money. I’ve had to help bail his ass out several times over the years.
He says nothing. I hate the silence more than anything.
I fist my hand down on the table. “Then what is it about?” I snap.
“You don’t need to know,” he says simply.
“This is my life!” I shout, feeling my chest tighten. “And I don’t want to spend it with you.” I can’t. I’ll die. I won’t be able to survive this again. I got lucky before, but he’ll make sure the job is done this time. And I refuse to die for Avery. He turned his back on me once, and that was enough.
“That is not your decision to make.” His voice is calm. I’m anything but.
“One million.” I offer desperately to pay him off. Maybe he’ll let me go. Money always talked with him and his family.
He can’t hide the surprise in his eyes. “Excuse me?”
“I’ll pay you to let me go.”
“You don’t have a million.”
He has no clue what I have. “I’ll pay two mill—”
He shakes his head, interrupting me. “No.”
I grind my teeth and fist my hands on the table. “It’s a simple solution,” I say although I have no idea what the problem really is.
“And I said no.” He narrows his eyes on me, daring me to argue.
I do. “Why not?”
Instead of answering me, he looks back down at his phone, dismissing me.
Fuck no!
I’m not the same innocent, naïve girl he once dated. I’m a grown ass woman who doesn’t take shit. Especially whatever game he’s trying to play with me.
I reach across the table, snatch his phone out of his hand, and throw it across the formal dining room. It bounces off the tile before skidding to a stop when hitting a wall. “Why the fuck not?” I shout.
He reaches over the table and slaps me across the face so hard that my head snaps to the right. Before I can recover, he’s up and out of his seat with his hand wrapped around the back of my neck, slamming my face down onto the table and making it rattle from the force before I can even take in a breath.
I’m able to hold in the cry that threatens to come up. With his free h
and, he yanks the chair out from underneath me, making me stand, bent at the waist on shaky legs.
I suck in a ragged breath that makes my already sore throat and pounding head worse. “Avery …” I whimper as those tears threaten my eyes again. “Please …” I beg, not knowing what the hell is going on and hating myself for letting that word escape. I don’t beg. Not anymore.
“Spread your legs,” he growls, ignoring my plea.
I try to shake my head, but he holds it in place, my already throbbing cheek pressed against the cold surface. When he realizes I’m not going to obey, he yanks my shorts down my hips with his free hand.
“Avery …” I squeal. “What are you …?”
“I told you I was gonna punish you for not obeying,” he says, interrupting me with satisfaction in his voice.
A sob gets lodged in my throat when I feel my shorts hit the floor. “Step out,” he orders. I obey because what other choice do I have? He kicks them away. Then his shoes are spreading my wobbly legs effortlessly. I don’t even try to fight him, though I could if I really wanted to.
I’m so fucking wet for him that it’s pathetic. Even if I do hate him, my body doesn’t understand that.
I jump when I feel his fingers run along my pussy. I hadn’t worn any underwear to bed. “You’re a bastard,” I whisper. It’s all I can manage.
“And you’re a whore.”
His words make me flinch, but they’re true. I can’t argue them. And I hate that he knows me so well after only being back in my life for such little time.
“Tell me, Bunny. Why do you spread your legs for every man?” he asks casually.
I don’t answer.
“Is it because you miss me? Is it because none of them satisfy you like I once did?” he whispers, and I try to push him off me, but I’m unsuccessful.
He slides a finger into me, and I bite my lip, refusing to give him any indication that I like the way it feels to be so intimate with him once again. I know what he plans on doing, and it’s not make love.
“I want you like this one last time, Bunny.”
It wasn’t a dream. He was in my house. And we had had sex. Now it all makes sense.
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