Dark Pleasures

by M. S. Parker

  “I'm thinking maybe we should rethink our plans,” Rylan said. “No clothes date tonight. We can put clothes on tomorrow.”

  I chuckled. “I like that idea.”

  Before he could respond, my phone rang. I held up a finger and answered, “Jenna Lang, how can I help you?”

  “Miss Lang, this is Agent Matthews.”

  I stiffened. Rylan immediately came closer, all joking and flirting aside.

  “Agent Matthews, what can I do for you?” I asked.

  “Mr. Constantine is reluctant to cooperate with us,” he said. “So we're going to try to prompt him a bit.”

  “Prompt?” I repeated.

  “Tell your boss you need Monday off,” he said. “You're testifying in front of a grand jury.”

  Chapter 22

  I hadn't even considered turning down Rylan's offer of spending the weekend with him after that call. I would've thought about it anyway because I'd missed him, but knowing what was coming had made the choice even easier.

  My conversation with Agent Matthews had been brief. Aside from the logistics of where to go and when, there had been only one little matter I'd needed to discuss. If their ruse didn't work and things went to trial, they might need collaboration to support my testimony. Or a defense attorney might decide to dig into my past. That meant I might need to explain why there were certain things they most likely wouldn't be able to find. That explanation, however, could possibly end up with me in jail.

  Agent Matthews had listened as I'd 'hypothetically' explained the situation and had then agreed to have an immunity agreement drawn up so I wouldn't have to worry about getting into trouble for my little computer virus and the less-than-legal hacking I'd done. With that taken care of, all I'd had left to worry about was getting through the next couple days.

  Fortunately, Rylan helped with that. Not caring what anyone at the office thought, he'd taken me up to his office and we'd spent the entire day working on coding for a game Rylan had been creating in his spare time. Others might've thought it was weird, spending time working on a game with something so important looming in the distance, but it had done exactly what I'd needed it to do. It had gotten my mind off of things.

  After work, we'd eaten pizza and watched a movie, then made love before falling asleep in each other’s arms. That night, I'd actually slept. No nightmares, and I'd woken to breakfast in bed. We'd spent the rest of the weekend at the house, talking about mundane things, things that didn't really matter. We'd watched movies and cooked, snuggled on the couch, regular couple stuff. It had almost made me feel like we were normal.

  Monday morning, Rylan went with me to the courthouse. He knew he wasn't allowed in the hearing until it was his turn to testify – Agent Matthews had said he was hoping if Christophe heard I was testifying, he'd give in before anyone else had to – but Rylan promised to stay until I was done. I told him that I appreciated the offer, but I didn't want to give the rumor mill at work more fodder. There was a good chance they would figure out that I'd been the one Christophe had come after, but they didn't need to know Rylan had been there too. It would raise a lot of questions. I had a feeling the rumors were starting because of our having taken the same days off. The last thing they needed was more fuel on the fire.

  “I'm staying,” Rylan said firmly. “I'm not leaving you until I know you're okay.”

  I knew there was no point in arguing so I didn't even bother to try. Instead, I leaned over, kissed his cheek and said, “Thank you.”

  The two of us went into the courthouse together, our hands brushing, but not connecting. I wanted to hold his hand, draw strength and comfort from his touch, but I knew I couldn't. I had to be strong when I went in there, and to do that, I needed to put back up the walls Rylan had brought down. It was the only way I'd be able to handle what I had to do.

  Agent Matthews was waiting for me at the courtroom. He glanced at Rylan, then at me, but didn't comment. “This way.” He opened the door. “You know how this works?”

  I nodded. “Not my first time.”

  “Miss Lang.” A tall brunette with a square jaw and long nose strode towards me, hand outstretched. “I'm US Attorney Michelle Strong.”

  I shook her hand.

  “I'm sorry we haven't had any prep time.” Judging by the glare she shot at Agent Matthews, she wasn't too happy with the situation.

  “It's okay,” I assured her. “I've done this before.”

  No surprise showed on her face, telling me that she'd at least read my statement.

  “So you're okay with me calling you right away?”

  I nodded. I was actually glad I didn't have to do the prep part. I was confident I could handle whatever questions would come my way, but I didn't want to have to talk about it any more than I had to. At least in a grand jury, there wasn't any cross examination.

  “Oh, and here's your immunity agreement.” Michelle handed me a piece of paper and a pen. “Agent Matthews didn't say why you needed it.”

  I signed the paper and handed her the pen. “I hacked into a few systems, including a couple government ones, to erase my previous identity as well as doing some damage to the online videos I'd been forced to make.”

  To her credit, Michelle's eyes widened slightly, but that was the extent of the change in her expression. “All right then.”

  Less than an hour later, I was sitting on the stand, recounting what had happened the night I'd woken up to find Christophe Constantine in my living room. I could tell Michelle had been nervous at first, wondering how well I'd do. She'd hidden it well, but I'd watched the lines around her eyes relax as I answered her questions exactly as she asked them, not giving more or less. I kept my voice even, but with enough emotion to not sound like a robot. The small break in my voice when I mentioned Rylan's part helped.

  “Miss Lang, you worked with Mr. Constantine at Archer Enterprises, is that right?”

  “Yes.”

  “Is that where he came to know you?”

  I shook my head, pressing my hands together. “No. He knew who I was from movies and online videos.”

  “The movies he forced you to watch the night he broke in.”

  “Yes.”

  She paused for a moment and then asked, “Miss Lang, I know this isn't going to be easy for you, but could you please tell us about those movies?”

  I took a slow breath. “When I was a child, my mother forced me into prostitution. She sold me to whoever could pay. At one point, she discovered that she could make even more money filming me.” I saw more than one member of the jury flinch. “She made a series where she called me Snow White. I don't know exactly how many movies were sold before I was rescued, but I heard the estimate was in the tens of thousands for each title. In thirteen years, there were a lot of titles made.” I paused, steeling myself for what I had to say next. “That night, Christophe told me that he'd seen those videos and that he...” The words caught in my throat, sickening me. “He said he wanted to be my prince.”

  “So what happened with Mr. Constantine was not simply a misunderstanding between co-workers? Crossed signals?”

  I gave what I knew was a bitter smile. I was expecting a question like this since it was what a defense attorney would ask, though probably less nicely. It pissed me off that it was even an issue, but I knew it had to be asked, and I appreciated the way the prosecutor worded it.

  I answered in a clear voice. “No, it was not. He didn't ask me out and I didn't invite him into my apartment. Christophe Constantine recognized me from the child pornography my mother forced me to do. He was obsessed with me, broke into my house and assaulted me.”

  “Thank you, Miss Lang,” Michelle said after a moment, letting my words sink into the jury. “You may step down.”

  I nodded and left the stand. I didn't doubt they'd get their indictment. I just hoped it would be enough to convince Christophe to flip. I'd been willing to testify, and I still would be if he didn't deal, but I didn't want to do it.

  I had a
lot of reasons why I didn't like to talk about my past. One of them was because I worked so hard pushing everything down that when I had to bring it up, suppression became harder. My therapist had told me that talking about it was healthier than trying to keep it in, but all I'd ever had happen from talking about it was a loop of memories I couldn't get out of my head. Keeping them locked away only gave me nightmares. Those I could handle.

  Well, there were the panic attacks too, but they didn't happen very often, and they were still better than the constant thoughts. There were definite downsides to having my kind of brain. Laser focus, perfectionism and obsession was good for my kind of work. Not so much when it came to this kind of thing.

  I'd only gone a few feet outside the courtroom when I heard my name.

  “Jenna, love.”

  Arms wrapped around me, but I knew them and didn't panic. Instead, I leaned into the broad, familiar chest. A shiver ran through me and, for once, it wasn't prompted by desire.

  “I've got you,” Rylan whispered, tightening his embrace.

  I heard people around us, but kept my eyes closed. I'd been strong in there and I'd be strong again in a minute, but right now, I didn't have to be. I knew I didn't have to say a word, he'd just hold me as long as I needed him to.

  Finally, I felt composed enough to pull away. He released me from his arms, but caught my hand before I could get too far. He threaded his fingers between mine.

  “Where are we going?” he asked, his voice matter-of-fact.

  “Excuse me?” I look at him, confused.

  “Where do you want to go?” he asked me. “Lunch? Work?” His expression was serious as he reached up to touch my cheek. “Tell me what you need.”

  I sighed, my shoulders slumping. I was suddenly exhausted. “I want to go home.”

  “All right,” he said. “I'll take you.”

  “You don't have to,” I protested.

  “What?” he asked as he led me out of the courthouse. “You're going to walk? Jenna, I'm not blind. You look like you're about ready to pass out.”

  “I'm not weak, Rylan,” I snapped, trying to yank my hand out of his.

  “I know you're not.” His grip tightened as he refused to let me go. “But you are human.” His tone was gentle. “And sometimes you have to let people take care of you.”

  I scowled but waited until we were in his car to respond. “You don't get it.”

  “What don't I get?” he asked as he pulled out of the parking lot.

  “I don't have people to take care of me.” I was proud of the fact that I managed to sound annoyed rather than pitiful.

  He turned towards me as he coasted to a stop at a red light. “You have me.” His voice was firm. He reached for my hand and his voice softened. “Please, love. Let me take care of you.”

  The light turned green and he looked back at the road as he drove on, but he didn't let go of my hand. I didn't say anything. I wasn't entirely sure what I was supposed to say to that statement. I'd accepted his care in the past, took comfort in his arms, but he'd never stated it so boldly. I knew he loved me. I'd accepted that. I'd just never considered what that meant in relation to taking care of me. The thought had never crossed my mind.

  Neither of us spoke even as he pulled up in front of my building. He parked in one of the all-day spots and came around to open my door. When he held out his hand to help me out, I took it.

  “Are you going to let me?” he asked softly as we went into the lobby. “Take care of you?”

  I couldn't say the words, but as we started up the stairs, I nodded. A pressure I hadn't realized had been inside me suddenly released. The relief was so great I stumbled. I would've fallen if he hadn't been there to catch me. His arms were strong and sure around me, quickly hooking under my knees and sweeping me up into his arms.

  “I'm perfectly capable of walking.” My arms automatically went around his neck.

  “I know,” he said as he began to climb the stairs.

  “Then you can put me down.” I was torn. I didn't like how helpless being carried made me feel, but I couldn't deny that I liked him holding me. The feel of his muscles flexing as he moved, the heat of him. The scent of him surrounding me.

  He stopped and looked down at me. “Do you want me to put you down?”

  Our eyes locked and I knew that his question had a deeper meaning. I ran my fingers through the hair at the base of his skull.

  “No,” I said softly. “Don't put me down.”

  He nodded and began to climb again. I leaned my head against his shoulder and let myself relax. Was this what it was like, trusting someone to care for you?

  When we reached my door, he set me on my feet so I could get my key, but he kept his hands on my waist. I wasn't surprised when he followed me in. I kicked off my shoes.

  “I'm staying,” he said quietly. “I'm not expecting anything from you. I just want to make sure you're okay.”

  I started to protest, but he put his finger on my lips.

  “I'm taking care of you.” He brushed his lips against mine. “I've got you.”

  Chapter 23

  “We need to talk,” he said as he came into my apartment. His face was blank and I couldn't read it, but his flat tone frightened me.

  “What's wrong?” I asked, following him over to the couch. I waited for him to sit down, but he didn't.

  “I can't do this anymore.”

  My heart stuttered and I felt my chest begin to tighten. A flutter of panic went through me. He couldn't mean what my brain thought he meant. It had to be something like he didn't want to continue keeping our relationship quiet at work. Or maybe he didn't want us to continue going back and forth between our homes. Or he couldn't keep worrying about me here. There were hundreds of possibilities. My mind, however, was insisting on only one.

  “It's too much for me, Jenna,” he said. “You're ruined. I can't be with someone like that.”

  The chill in his eyes made me shiver, but I was essentially numb. He was finally saying it, the words I'd known to be true. I'd told him all of this before, that I was broken and didn't deserve him. He hadn't cared then, but he cared now.

  Still, I couldn't stop the protest. “But you said you loved me.” I hated myself for sounding weak, for sounding like one of those girls who couldn't survive without a man. I could, and had, done well without being in a relationship, but I didn't want to be without him.

  He snorted a derisive laugh. “And you believed me? Come on, Jenna, you can't be that naïve, especially not with your background. How many of the men you fucked told you that they loved you? Hundreds? Do you even know how many there were? How many men did you fuck before me?”

  I flinched at the question, crossing my arms over my chest as if I could protect my heart from his hurtful words. “Rylan.” His name came out in a pained whisper.

  “I watched the videos, you know. Found all of them.” His blank expression twisted into one of disgust. “How could you do those things? More than one man at a time–”

  “I didn't have a choice.” I was pleading now. “You have to believe me.” I stretched out my hand and he recoiled from it.

  “Don't touch me!” he snapped. His voice was unrecognizable.

  “Please.” I began to shake. This couldn't be happening. It couldn't be real.

  “You're nothing but a slut. A cheap whore pretending to be this innocent little victim.”

  The words were cutting, flaying me to the bone.

  “I don't know why I let it get this far,” he continued. “I could have any woman I wanted. Why'd I choose you?” He sneered at me. “It doesn't matter now though. We're done. I can't even look at you. You make me sick.”

  I went to my knees as he walked past me without another word. He didn't even spare me a second glance as he walked out of the apartment and out of my life.

  I whimpered at the intensity of the pain going through me. I'd felt physical pain before, excruciating pain that I'd only wish back on the person who'd done it
to me. I'd experienced emotional pain from the way my mother treated me. Nothing, however, could've prepared me for this. I'd known I'd been getting in too deep with Rylan. I'd told myself over and over again that it hadn't been a good idea to open myself up so much, but I hadn't listened. I'd wanted him too much, cared too much. I'd needed him.

  And now he was gone.

  The worst part was that I knew I didn't deserve him. He deserved someone better than me. Someone whole and undamaged.

  The knowledge didn't do anything to stop the agony tearing through me, as if my insides were being shredded. I curled up into a tight ball and gave myself over to the pain.

  He was gone.

  He'd never loved me.

  He was gone.

  “Jenna!”

  His voice cut through the darkness, bringing with it a sliver of light.

  “Jenna, love, wake up.”

  There it was again. The gentle, coaxing tone, so full of love and concern, pulled me out of the nightmare. I felt his arms around me, smelled the scent of him.

  “You're here,” I murmured, wrapping my arms around his neck and pulling myself even closer to him. “You stayed.”

  His lips brushed against my forehead and I felt the relief in his embrace. “Of course I'm here, love. I told you I was staying to take care of you.”

  The memories came back then. The grand jury. The previous week's nightmares. Rylan carrying me up the stairs.

  I opened my eyes. The dim light in the room told me that the sun had already gone down, but it was January, so that didn't necessarily mean a time. My eyes flicked over to the bedside clock. Six-thirty. I'd been asleep longer than I'd realized.

  Rylan smoothed back some hair from my face and I turned my attention back to him. “You said my name.”

  “What?” My brain was still half-asleep.

  “When you were dreaming, you said my name, but it didn't sound like you were dreaming anything good.” He looked upset. “Was I in your nightmare?”