by Ashley Gee
I really don’t want to have dinner with his family. His parents seem nice enough, if distant, but they aren’t the problem.
Being inside Cortland Manor kicks up an itch under my skin that I can’t scratch. My flesh feels like it’s gone too tight on my bones until I’m all dried out and practically dead. I managed the annoying sensation during the Founder’s Ball, but that was only because I had Jake there to distract me.
I still feel more than a little bad when I think about Jake. I can only imagine the look on his face when he finds out that Vin and I got married.
If he even finds out, at all.
It isn’t like Vin ever made it clear whether we’re going public with all this crap or not. He had us elope to wine country with only his closest friend to serve as a witness. Nobody has to know about any of this for it to be legal.
I’ll just be his dirty little secret.
Except, we’re on the way to dinner with his parents. He publicly sent work crews in to fix up my house and battered down the door of the district attorney’s office to get my brother out of trouble.
That isn’t how you treat a secret.
I shouldn’t care, either way. We made a deal. It would be stupid of me to expect — to want — anything else.
I’ll let him pay my way through school, keep my brother out of prison, and set my Grandpa up somewhere with appropriate medical care. All of that is worth a year.
And the way he sets my body on fire won’t be anything more than a fringe benefit.
Cortland Manor is almost completely dark when we pull into the long circular driveway, one large window brightly lit on the far side of the house where the dining room is located. Even from the outside, the place reminds me of a mausoleum at the best of times.
But it’s even worse in the dark.
I’ve only ever gone in through the front door, so I suppress a fearful shiver as he navigates the car toward the pitch black rear of the house. Anything not illuminated by the Maserati’s headlights is sunk into darkness. Intellectually, I know there aren’t any monsters hiding in the palm trees and wax myrtle that mark the property line of Cortland Manor.
I don’t breathe again until the motion-activated floodlights come on and light up the long garage.
Vin navigates the car into the only open space. As the lights continue to come on, one by one, I count the cars that fill the garage that has at least double the square footage of my entire house. All of the vehicles are sporty and expensive — I don’t even recognize some of the shiny emblems on their hoods.
I’m almost surprised that I’ve only ever seen him with the Maserati. He could drive a different luxury car every day of the week and still not be back where he started.
“How much money is in this garage?”
He blinks, probably surprised to hear my voice after hours of silence. “I’ve never counted. A couple million, maybe.”
Considering that only a few miles away in the Gulch children are going to bed hungry, this is more than a little sickening.
“Must be nice.”
“Dad is a collector. Most of these don’t leave the garage more than once a year.”
“He collects… cars?”
Vin shrugs. “Pretty common thing around here.”
Common among the self-important assholes on the Bluffs who have more money than they know what to do with.
“Awesome.”
“You don’t sound impressed.”
There isn’t any point in lying. “I’m not.”
“Me neither.” He loops his arm around my back and pulls me toward the door. “I much prefer collecting women.”
On that note.
His family is already waiting for us in the formal dining room. The long table is big enough to seat at least a dozen people, but they cluster on one side with his father at the head. Place settings glitter like oyster shells in the light, but no food has been served.
They’ve been waiting for us.
Vin introduces me as if we haven’t been living in the same town our entire lives. I’ve encountered his parents many times before, not that it means I know them at all. Duke Cortland barely looks up from the open laptop he has next to him on the table. While his stepmother doesn’t look up from her phone, lazily swiping with one manicured finger.
His little sister is the only one who actually looks at me when she returns my greeting.
My expression of silent entreaty doesn’t escape Vin’s notice, but he just shrugs. When I glare at him, all I get in response is a placid expression.
“Emma, this is Zaya.” He says it breezily, as if I’m just a friend that he brought home from school.
Not his wife.
I’m not sure what to think about that as I sit down next to Emma.
A silent maid serves the food, placing a plate of something vaguely green and unrecognizable in front of me before disappearing.
“We’re gluten and dairy free,” Emma pipes up helpfully as she catches my expression. “Want me to pass you the salt?”
I accept it, gratefully. But I doubt there is enough salt in the world to make whatever this is palatable. It’s a real shame for people to have this much money and still eat food that isn’t fit to feed livestock.
“Emma here is a little too interested in sweets,” Giselle says as she puts down her phone. Her own plate has a significantly smaller portion than everyone else’s, which can’t possibly be an accident. “You’ll have to share your secrets for keeping such a trim figure, Zaya.”
It’s amazing what a starvation diet can do for you.
I bite my tongue on a sarcastic remark. Emma is a perfectly healthy girl. With her blonde hair and round cheeks, she looks fresh off a photoshoot for Gap Kids.
Vin clearly agrees with me, if the death glare he levels at his stepmother is any indication. But he doesn’t bother to say anything to Giselle and instead addresses his sister. “I’ve got some ice cream in the pool house, if you want something that doesn’t taste like the devil’s ass crack.”
Emma smiles, just as her mother makes an annoyed sound, “Enough, Vin!”
“No dairy or gluten?” His voice is conspiring as he leans over Emma’s plate to peer at her serving. Judging from his sister’s smile, they’re used to being on the same side against Giselle. “C’mon, this might as well be Auschwitz.”
Despite all appearances to the contrary, I was actually raised with some manners.
“It tastes wonderful, Mrs. Cortland.” I bring a forkful of limp green sludge to my mouth and take a bite. About ten seconds later, I have to fight the urge not to spit it back out. If Giselle notices the expression on my voice, she doesn’t comment.
I have literally been so hungry that it felt like my stomach was wrapped around my spine. I still probably wouldn’t have eaten whatever the hell is on this plate.
Duke finally speaks without bothering to look away from his computer screen. “I hear congratulations are in order.”
I raise my eyebrows as I glance at Vin. I guess none of this is a secret from his parents.
“Signed, sealed, and delivered,” Vin comments nonchalantly.
“We’ll need to plan for an official ceremony. Soon, for the sake of appearances. I can book the chapel relatively soon, likely by the end of the month. But it will be more difficult to find a venue for the reception on such short notice, so perhaps we’ll do something on the beach. Let people think it’s a matter of taste, rather than haste.”
My wild-eyed expression flies to Vin, who has his fist clenched around a water glass. The last thing I want to do is stand up in front of the entire town and pledge my troth to the guy who tortured me for years. Judging from the look on his face, he doesn’t want that either.
“Marriage is already legal,” he says, using the same low voice that has had people all over Deception shaking in their boots since he was fourteen years old. “I’m filing the paperwork tomorrow.”
But Duke doesn’t seem to be listening. He taps out a few letters on t
he keyboard before speaking again, not so much as sparing his son a glance. “Cortlands do not elope. Appearances matter, you know that. I’m sure Giselle would be happy to take care of the planning details”
I shake my head so hard I feel a little lightheaded. Giselle’s smile is more than a little forced when she agrees.
“I would be happy to plan everything.” Her voice is saccharine, but there is a brittle note underneath the sweetness. “Do you have any preferences, Vin? The oleander is blooming and would look lovely in the centerpieces.”
Vin abruptly stands. “Thanks for dinner.”
He grabs my wrist. I briefly resist, but at the look on his face decide it’s probably better to just go along with him. I’m sure as hell not going to eat any more of the food.
“This was lovely,” I call over my shoulder as he hustles me out of the dining room.
I’m glad he doesn’t let go of my hand as we leave the house and are plunged into darkness. The pathway to the pool house is barely lit and I would probably head in the wrong direction if Vin wasn’t leading the way.
“Are you guys behind on your light bill, or something?” I grouse.
“Giselle thinks that lighting the house attracts vandals or thieves. Most of the outside lights have been switched off.”
I wonder if he ever feels afraid out here alone in the dark.
The pool house is smaller than I thought it would be, less like a cool bachelor crash pad and more like an abandoned flophouse people sneak into when they want to get high. There are beer cans and empty liquor bottles littering every surface. Dirty clothes are piled up in the corner, and I recognize a shirt that he last wore weeks ago.
“I thought you guys had maids.”
Vin makes a beeline for the fridge. “They’re on orders not to come out here. Giselle says she doesn’t want them finding drugs and reporting me.”
“When did you move out of the main house?”
“Some time in middle school, I think. Definitely by freshman year.”
I bet that was Giselle’s decision, too. It doesn’t seem like there is much love lost between Vin and his stepmother, with his father too oblivious to notice.
I never would have thought it possible for me to feel pity for Vin Cortland.
“You mind if I clean up a little?”
He turns back from the open refrigerator, a strange expression on his face. “Sure, knock yourself out.”
His gaze follows me as I start filling the trash can with empty cans and other trash. No way am I carrying any laundry back to the main house in the dark, but I gather it all into the hamper and push that into the corner of the bedroom.
The bed has clean sheets on it, so at least Vin’s lack of fastidiousness doesn’t extend completely beyond the pale.
When the room is slightly less of a biohazard, I collapse onto the leather couch. I’m exhausted, but somehow still wired. Vin settles next to me with two beers and a plate with several slices of pizza on it.
“Leftovers from the weekend.” He sets the load down on the table. “Better get used to takeout if you want to eat around here.”
I take a bite of pizza and nearly come on the spot. “You could have warned me about the green machine. That food looked like it had already been eaten.”
“Don’t worry. Thankfully, family dinners are a rare occurrence.”
The pizza goes quickly. It doesn’t escape my notice that he lets me have the last piece, even though I’ve already had more than him.
“You’re trying to fatten me up,” I comment.
“Whatever works. I don’t want you passing out from hunger the next time I fuck you.”
The words shimmer between us.
I set down my plate on the narrow coffee table. Vin is already reaching for me before it drops from my fingers, and it lands on the wooden surface with a clatter. He doesn’t give me the chance to check if the plate has broken.
Vin kisses me hard and forces me back against the leather couch. My legs spread wide as he settles between them, his mouth never leaving mine as his body shifts over me.
The already hard kiss turns biting before he pulls back to look at me. His hands run up my ribcage to my breasts, until one of them wraps around my neck. “You married me, Zaya. That makes you mine.” His mouth presses against my neck until I feel the sharp edge of his teeth. “Every inch of you is mine. I decide when you eat. When you sleep. When you come all over my fingers.”
To punctuate his point, his other hand slips under my dress. I didn’t have a change of underwear at the vineyard and I wasn’t about to put the old ones back on, so I’m not wearing any. Nothing is there to stop his fingers from pushing inside of me. My own hands are trapped beneath my body, so I can’t stop him from ruching my dress up around my hips.
His tongue traces a line down the flat plane of my belly. He still has a hand pressed against my throat, not too hard, but enough that I won’t forget it’s there.
Holding me.
Controlling me.
“Vin…” His name is a plea, but I have no idea what I’m asking him for.
“Tell me the truth, Zaya.” He shifts so his mouth rests just above mine. The hand he has over my throat presses down harder. “Tell me why you never fought me off when I crawled into your bed at night. Tell me why every time I’ve touched you, you’ve been wetter than diving into an ocean wave. Tell me you’ve always wanted me to own you.”
“I’ve always wanted you,” I breathe out on a sigh, not realizing until I say it that it’s the truth. My throat pushes harder against his hand when I swallow back any more words that sound like love. I know he doesn’t want to hear them, and I’m too aroused to decide if I’m only thinking them because his fingers are teasing at my clit. “You have always owned me.”
“I’ve spent so much time thinking up ways to hurt you, and now I have you here with me and my mind won’t stop whirling with possibilities. I want to hurt you.” The harsh words are completely at odds with the slow plunge of his fingers in and out of me. They pull out to tease at the top of my opening before pushing in again. The sensation he creates is as far removed from pain as anything can be. “It takes everything I have not to break you in half.”
He broke me a long time ago. It’s only now that he has ever tried to put me back together. But I will always be the rag doll knitted together at the seams. His broken doll.
I can’t handle any more talk, not when it leaves a feeling like broken glass in the pit of my stomach. Vin will never be able to love me, not after everything that has happened. Allowing myself — even for a moment — to treat this as anything by temporary will just lead to more pain.
And I’ve had enough of that to last a lifetime.
I manage to free one hand and press my palm over the back of the hand he holds to my throat. “Then hurt me.”
Without warning, he slaps me hard on the pussy.
My hips buck off the couch. He shoves those same wet fingers in my mouth to stifle a desperate cry. The pain is gone as quickly as it appeared, but the shock of it leaves me gasping.
Vin pulls away just long enough to roll on a condom that practically appears out of thin air. He is back on top of me before I have the chance to decide if I want to be the dozenth girl that he has fucked on this couch.
Next thing I know, my face is buried in the couch and my ass is in the air. He grips my hips and buries himself inside of me again with enough force that it nearly bowls us both over.
He slaps my ass once. Then twice. Then again and again, until each strike matches the rhythm of his thrusts and my backside blazes with heat.
And pain.
Tears prick my eyes, nose burning, as he fucks me. The spanking isn’t that painful, it shouldn’t be enough to make me cry. But the tears come anyway, starting out as a few drops that quickly becomes a wracking sob.
If anything, crying seems to make him rougher. He doesn’t ask if I’m okay, doesn’t hesitate when I make desperate noises underneath him. But I’m moving
with him. My hips rock back to meet each one of his thrusts, even when it means that the tip of him bottoms out inside me, striking hard against my womb in a way that could be either pleasure or pain.
The pain is a release I didn’t know I needed.
“You like this?” he asks. The words are completely unnecessary considering that he must feel my flesh shivering around him with impending orgasm. He slaps my ass again. “Show me how much.”
I say the only thing that seems to make sense. “Harder.”
Vin takes me precisely at my word.
His hands clench tight on my inflamed skin as he pounds into me as hard and as fast as he can. I come like an explosion that sends every particle of my consciousness shooting off into space. I come apart under his hands, every piece of me shaking and quivering with my need for him.
Vin collapses on top of me with a low groan. His mouth moves over my back, peppering soft kisses along the skin as I float in a dreamlike haze. Maybe this is a dream. I’m going to wake up in my own bed to see him sitting there in the dark, rage and hate in his eyes.
His hands are anything but hate-filled as he gently lifts me in his arms and carries me to the bed. He lays me gently down in his bed, a place I never in my life thought I would be, and pulls the blanket up to my chin.
He shuts off the light, but doesn’t climb into bed with me. “Sleep.”
I’m dimly aware of the fact that I’ve never heard of any girl spending the night in Vin’s bed, not even Sophia.
I wonder if I’m the first.
My hand pushes out from under the covers. I hold it out to the shapeless form that I can barely see in the dark.
I don’t have to see his face to sense the hesitation.
He doesn’t move for a long time, likely hoping I’ve fallen asleep, but he doesn’t say no. I’m still surprised when he crosses the narrow room and climbs into bed beside me.
It has been the longest day of my life, but sleep is elusive. When I wake up, yesterday will have been my wedding day. I’m not ready for tomorrow, when the reality of it finally comes crashing down on me.
The diamond on my finger glints in the meager light, reminding me I no longer know who I am anymore.