by J. L. Beck
14
Julian
Thoughts of last night swirl around inside my head like fish in a fishbowl. I shouldn’t have touched her, taunted her, or let her get under my skin, but there was no way around it. She is too naive for her own good. All but telling me to take her, reminding me that I paid for her—like I could forget.
Too much pent-up need combined with the alcohol in my system made it hard for me to control myself, and that’s why I snapped.
I wanted her, wanted her so bad, and yet I talked myself off the cliff’s edge.
All I could see was her fear reflecting back at me. It hit me right in the chest and made it hard for me to breathe. I couldn’t bring myself to continue, to hurt her, even though I knew soon enough, I would do just that. But a selfish part of me wanted to continue, wanted to take a taste, even against her wishes.
Sex would come soon enough, and me fingering her, will be the least of her worries.
As if she could hear my thoughts, Elena stirs beside me. Her eyes flutter open, and her head turns to see if I’m here or not. Apart from last night, I’ve held her every night since she got here. I couldn’t bring myself to do so yesterday.
Turning away, I disappear into the closet to get dressed. When I return, she is still in bed, the blanket pulled up to her chest, and her big blue eyes watching me like I’m a predator who is about to jump her.
She’s not wrong.
“Get dressed, we’ll have breakfast together on the terrace.”
That makes her perk up a little. She throws the blanket off her delicate body and scurries passed me and into the closet. A few moments later, she returns dressed in a casual outfit of jeans and a T-shirt. I’m half-tempted to tell her to put a dress on just so I can see her in one, but that will happen soon enough.
Plus, I don’t know that I can handle an argument with her this early in the day.
Taking her hand into mine, I walk at a more even pace so that she can keep up. She walks beside me silently, and when we reach the terrace, she lets out a low sigh. I hear her intake of breath and look over at her, watching as she sucks fresh air into her lungs and smiles.
She wasn’t made to be caged, it’s obvious, but letting her be free isn’t an option in our world. Not right now and maybe not ever.
We sit down, and I can already see her eyeing the fresh papaya I had ordered just for her. I know it’s her favorite. My spies kept me well informed about all her likes and dislikes. I wonder if she has noticed that there is always something on the menu that she is fond of.
As I expected, she reaches for the fruit first, then adds some yogurt and granola to her plate. I fill my own up with an omelet before I pour both of us a glass a fresh-pressed orange juice. I watch her take a few small bites, then decide it’s time to fill her in on our weekend plans.
“There is an event this Saturday. You will accompany me to it.”
The fork slips out of her hand and lands against the plate with a loud clunk. Her eyes go wide as she looks up at me.
“Y-you’re taking me out?” I don’t miss the excitement and hopefulness in her voice. Something about it pleases me. Knowing she is happy to go out with me means everything is going according to plan.
“Yes, it’s an auction. Your father and all of our business associates will be there. Everyone will see you by my side.”
Her face falls, the twinkle in her eyes that was there a moment ago vanishes faster than it appeared.
“I see. You want to show off your prize.” She leans back in her chair, her eyes trained on something in the yard.
“I thought you’d be happy I’m taking you.”
“And I would be if you’d do it for the right reasons,” she says without looking back at me.
“Like I said, I don’t wine and dine with women. You shouldn’t expect that from me.”
Crossing her arms over her chest, she turns her body even further away from me. Twisting in her chair like she is physically sick by my closeness.
“I’ve lost my appetite. Can I go back to the room now?”
“You sure you don’t want to eat more? You only took a few bites.”
“I’m sure.”
“As you wish.” I drop my own fork and knife before getting up from my chair. Elena rises at the same time. I take her hand and pull her through the house like I always do, but this time it feels different. This is the first time she wants to go to her room. She would rather spend time alone than with me on the terrace, which enrages me for more than one reason.
“You’re hurting my hand.” Elena winces. I loosen my grip, not realizing how much I was squeezing her fingers.
An apology sits on the tip of my tongue, but I swallow it down. I don’t need to apologize to anyone, not even her.
After locking Elena back in our bedroom, I head downstairs to the gym in the basement. I need to let off some steam, and since I can’t do that with my future wife, I have to let the punching bag take my wrath.
I lose track of time at the gym. All I know is that when I’m done, I’m soaked in sweat, and my knuckles hurt. I unwrap my hands and realize they are swollen too. Shit.
I take a quick shower, in the bathroom attached to the gym, and get dressed into an extra change of clothes I keep down here.
Unlocking my phone, I check the video surveillance from the bedroom. The feed pulls up, showing me my bedroom. Elena is on the bed, wearing the same clothes from this morning. She is on her stomach, her face hiding in the pillow.
Either she went back to sleep, or she is still pouting about this morning. Maybe both.
I shove my phone in my pocket and head upstairs to my office. I’m not even halfway up the stairs when I hear it. A high-pitched scream coming from the kitchen. Taking two steps at a time, I run up the stairs and down the long hallway leading to the kitchen.
When I enter, I find Lorelei, my cook, on the ground. Her lifeless body still, and her eyes open but completely blank. Marie–the new maid is standing over her sobbing, her hand clutched to her chest.
“I-is sh-she…” She stutters.
“Yes, she is dead.” I don’t have to check her pulse to know she is gone. The bluish color of her skin and the vacancy in her eyes says it all. “What the hell happened?” I ask as I take out the phone to text Markus.
Me: Get the fuck to the kitchen. Now.
“I-I don’t know. She was fine when I left to go to the store. I just got back and found her.”
Only now do I notice the groceries spilled out on the floor. The maid must have dropped the bags when she came in.
Markus comes up behind me a moment later. “What the fuck?”
“Maid said she left for a bit, came back, and found her,” I explain.
“What was she doing when you left?” Markus implores.
“Nothing.” The maid shrugs. “Just eating the leftovers from breakfast.” Hiccupping, she points to the nook in the corner of the kitchen.
My gaze falls onto the plate that holds leftover fruit. A half-cut red apple and green papaya peel. Nothing that explains what the fuck happened here.
I turn my attention back to the dead body on the kitchen floor—an awful feeling gnawing in the back of my mind. Something is off, terribly fucking off.
Sucking in a sharp breath, I let the puzzle pieces fall into place. I connect the dots in my mind. Elena, papaya… death.
“Fuck!” I yell before running out of the room.
“What…” I hear Markus yelling after me, but I’m already down the hallway.
My heart is hammering against my ribcage, and my lungs refuse to fill with air as I try to get the door open. I’m probably wrong about this, and completely overreacting. Elena’s just sleeping, there can’t be a connection between Lorelei’s death, and the fucking fruit Elena ate too.
Those are all the thoughts running through my mind as I rush up the stairs and into the room and to her side.
“Elena, get up.” I tap her shoulder, but she doesn’t react. A feeling similar to t
he one I had the night my mother died threatens to take me under, and I sink a little deeper inside my mind. If I go back to that place, there will be no coming back.
Grabbing her hip, I flip her over, and that’s when I know… my suspicion was right. Shit!
Her face is pale, ghostly white with an almost green tint to it. Sweat pearls on her forehead as I move her limp body around. The only reason I’m not completely losing it right now is the fact that I know she is alive by the raspy shallow breaths she is taking.
Turning her onto her side, she groans in pain before she starts gagging and dry heaving, so I pick her up and cradle her to my chest.
Markus bursts into the room at the same time. “What the fuck?”
“Call the doctor,” I growl, heading toward the bath.
I only make it halfway before she starts throwing up, and I turn her in my arms, so she doesn’t choke. Her eyes briefly open, but she is so out of it, I don’t think she knows what’s going on. I have to bend her over the toilet as she continues to vomit. Her whole body convulsing as she does. At least she is getting it out, her body fighting whatever it was that poisoned her.
Thinking of it has a burning rage rising inside of me. Who the fuck dared try to hurt what’s mine? I need to figure out who did this, but right now, I need to concentrate on her more.
When the first wave of vomiting has passed, her eyes open again, but they are still unfocused. Her dark hair is sticking against her sweaty forehead, and spit is running down the corner of her mouth. Looking down her body, I see puke is sticking to her clothes and skin.
I need to clean her up.
Carefully, I pick her up and lay her into the garden bathtub, where I start stripping her out of her soiled clothes. Her watery eyes find mine when I pull her bra off, and for a moment, I think she comes to. Her gaze falls onto my chest and mumbled something that sounds like an apology. When I look down to where she is looking, I realize that she puked on me as well.
“It’s fine, I’ve had worse on me.”
Once she is in nothing but her panties, I strip out of my shirt, throwing everything into a pile. Turning on the water, I start washing her with a soapy washcloth.
She goes in and out of consciousness while I clean her up, and I silently curse the doctor for not being here yet.
As I rinse her off, I hear the doctor’s voice coming from the hall. Markus is there too. I can’t make out everything they are saying, but it sounds like he is already filling him in on everything we know.
Grabbing a towel, I wrap it around her small body and pick her back up. She makes a small sound of distress but then buries her face in the crook of my neck.
I put her down on the bed, making sure the towel covers her pussy and tits while two other men are in the room.
“Markus, find who did this. It had to be the papaya I got for her. Someone was trying to kill her. Someone who knew it was her favorite.” Of course, there is only one person in my mind right now, but why would her own father want her dead?
“On it.” Markus disappears from the room, and I turn back to the doctor, who has already started examining her.
“How much did she throw up?”
“A lot.”
“She might not need her stomach pumped, but I’ll still give her something to make her vomit more. I’m also going to give her some IV fluids. That’s really the only thing I can do right now. I have to run some blood tests to know more.”
“Do that then.”
Crossing my arms in front of my chest, I watch him work meticulously on Elena. He sets up a makeshift IV before poking her with a needle. He draws some blood and hooks a bag of fluid up to her arm, and the fact that she doesn’t flinch is cause for concern. When he is all done, he hands me two pill bottles with instructions.
“Call me if anything changes. She might throw up again, which will be good. I’ll be back tomorrow to check on her, hopefully with the result from the blood work.”
I nod, even though all I want to do is yell at him to get me the result fucking now. The thing is, doc, doesn’t take shit from anyone, even from me. He’s been working for the family longer than I’ve been alive. Not only is he the best at what he does, I know he is doing this as fast as he can.
He disappears from the room, leaving Elena and me alone. She makes a small whimper sound, but her eyes remain closed. For a long time, I just stand there looking at her, unsure of what to do.
For the first time in a very long time, I feel… powerless. The feeling is foreign to me. I’m the head of this family, what I say goes, I’m always in control, always… but I can’t control this. I can’t take her pain away, I can’t make the blood result get here faster, and I can’t find out who did this and stay at her side at the same time.
Elena rolls onto her side and almost out of the bed. I move quickly, grabbing her at the last minute, and roll her back over. Her small hands reach for me, her slender fingers wrapping around my wrist to pull me closer.
“Julian…” My name falls off her lips in a breath, soft and quiet, but it hits me like a fifty-pound weight.
“Shh, it’s okay. You’re okay,” I assure her and watch her eyes flutter shut once more.
Her movement made the towel move off her body, and I remember she is still wearing her now soaking wet panties. I pull them off her legs, trying not to look at the valley between her thighs. I don’t care how sick she is, she is still beautiful, and I’ll never stop wanting her.
Careful not to rip out the IV, I move Elena into the center of the bed, take off my shoes and slide into the spot next to her.
She turns toward me, wiggling her body as she is trying to get closer.
I slide my arm under her body and gently lift her up to lie on top of me. With her cheek flat on my chest, her breath fans out over my skin. Her breathing is still a bit rough, but it’s starting to calm down, color returning to her cheeks, and I know she is going to be okay.
Absentmindedly, I run a hand up and down her naked body, enjoying the tiny shivers I draw out of her every time I hit a certain spot on her ribs. For a while, I let her body distract me, let her beauty and sweetness draw me in. I listen to her breathe and watch her sleep, but all too soon, even that can’t keep me from thinking about my next move.
I need to find who did this. Who dared try to take her from me. I need to find the person responsible, so I can remind everyone why you never mess with something that’s mine.
15
Elena
My brain feels as if it’s been run through a blender. Scratch that, I feel like my whole body has been run through a blender. I don’t know what is up or down. All I know is every time I lift my head, the entire room spins. Trying to sort through my memories of the last twenty-four hours, I’m not sure what is real or made up.
What is wrong with me?
I remember Julian holding me in his arms, throwing up on him, him giving me a bath, and the doctor coming. Not all of that had been a dream, had it? Julian holding me against his chest seems like it would be a made-up thought, but I can still feel his arms wrapped around me, holding me securely against his chest. The whole bath thing was probably a dream too.
Blinking my eyes open, I slowly focus on the nightstand, the lamp, the mattress before letting my gaze move around the room at an even slower rate. My stomach is still knotted, and bile rises up my throat, threatening to come out.
My arm throbs like it’s been poked, and I peer down at it with one eye open. There is some light bruising, and at that moment, I can’t really put the pieces together in my mind.
“You’re awake.” Marie beams from her spot at the edge of the bed.
How long has she been sitting here? Where is Julian?
“I feel dead.” My voice is raspy, and my throat is raw. Reaching for the water bottle I spot on the nightstand, my hand misses, and I reach for it again and miss that time too. “What’s wrong with me?” I ask out loud.
Marie moves off the edge of the bed, grabbing the water bottle a
nd handing it to me, “Mr. Moretti said you are sick and told me to stay with you until he returned. Are you feeling better? Are you going to puke again?”
“Not really, and I don’t think so. My brain feels like it’s been fried.”
Marie frowns at my response as I twist off the cap and take a small sip of water. I want to drink the entire bottle, but I just know it’ll come right back up if I do that. Putting the cap back on, I sag against the pillows. My skin feels hot and clammy.
“Where is Julian?” I ask, wincing at the sound of my own voice.
“I don’t know, but he said he would be back soon.”
I nod, or at least I think I do. I can’t be sure.
For the next two hours, Marie stays with me while I float in and out of consciousness. My brain refuses to shut down completely, and yet having my eyes open does me more harm than good. What could be wrong with me? Surely, this isn’t the flu. I’ve had that a time or two in my life, and it’s never felt like this.
This is different. Like my body is trying to purge something inside of it.
I recall the doctor taking my blood, and telling Julian there was nothing that could be done until tests were run. Or maybe I had misheard that? I didn’t know what was real or not? Sometime later, I awake again, feeling only a little better.
When I open my eyes, my head is pounding, but I don’t seem as disoriented or like I’m riding a never-ending rollercoaster. Sitting up, I press a hand to my forehead.
“Welcome back,” Julian’s deep voice greets me, and I find him perched at the edge of the bed, his features hidden in the shadows. He’s sitting in the same spot Marie had sat earlier. Marie. Immediately, concern for the maid fills my veins.
“Where is Marie?” I croak.
Julian smiles, one side of his lip tipping up. He looks every bit the predator he wants people to see him as. “Probably sleeping since it’s well after ten.”