Captured: Claimed Book 3

by M James

  As soon as I get them open, I see Vincent standing there, his face flushed and angry, and an empty glass in one hand.

  “Vincent?” I squeak with horror, my stomach instantly knotting with shock and anxiety. “What are you doing home?”

  He sneers at me. “Clearly, you weren’t expecting me home so soon.”

  Shit! He was supposed to be gone all week!

  “And what do you do the second I leave?” He grabs my elbow, hauling me out of bed, and slams me against him. He bends down as if to kiss me, but instead, he grabs my jaw, prying my mouth open and sniffing my breath.

  “Just as I thought,” he says, disgust clear in his tone as he shoves me back onto the bed. I’m too startled to catch myself, so I flop onto the mattress, scrambling back and away from him. “I’ve had enough of this,” he grinds out, his voice low to keep it from carrying, but I know he’s furious. A sick wave of fear washes over me.

  “What, Vincent? What did I do?” I’m not sure why he’s angry, and it’s better to find out before I start apologizing. Did April tell on me? The thought of that makes me feel even sicker, that she might have tricked me into admitting all of that and then lied to my face about whether she’d say anything to Vincent or not.

  “You got drunk last night,” he says through gritted teeth. “Don’t think I can’t tell, and even if I couldn’t, the maid hasn’t had a chance to clean up from your little bender last night, and I saw footage from the security feed outside. I see you turning into a little drunk, an alcoholic, just like your sad sack of a father, and I’m not going to stand by and watch it happen.”

  I stare at him open-mouthed at the cruelty of his words, but the truth in them stings worse than anything. How the hell is he back so soon though. “You were in Tokyo, I—”

  He laughs cruelly. “No, I wasn’t. I was at another apartment. You really get to know people best when they aren’t watching. And now I know. You get wasted like the little trailer park whore that you are. What a fucking embarrassment! I should throw you out on the street, let your father waste away like the piece of shit that he is, and throw your whore sister out with you. You’re a waste of my time and resources.”

  “So why don’t you?” I whisper, tears filling my eyes. I almost wish he would, as terrifying as the thought is and as damning as it would be for my family. At least then it would be over. I could stop being afraid and stop trying to figure out how to make him happy when all that seems to give him satisfaction is tormenting me. This will only get worse after he marries me. He looks at me as if he’s confused by my question.

  “Because I love you, Poppy.” He says, gently stroking my cheek, his tone so genuine it makes my insides freeze because from the look on his face and the genuineness of his tone, he believes them.

  He thinks how he treats me is with love. Humiliating me, controlling me, criticizing me, fucking other women, throwing freezing ice water on me is fucking love?!!

  He’s a psychopath, and I’ve never been more afraid of him before this second.

  “I can never let you go. You know that, right?” He says softly, his eyes locked on mine, squeezing me tighter as a tear falls down my cheek.

  “You need to be under my control,” he says, gently stroking my back.

  “Everything with your father was a sign. I knew I had you before that, but it sealed the deal. I own you, and I’ve never owned a human so completely before.” He’s squeezing me tighter now.

  “It’s really empowering, arousing even…” I try to hide my disgust feeling him go hard against me. “ You couldn’t leave me if you wanted to because then your precious father would die. It’s fate, you and I together. Forever.”

  His words are horrifying. I want to hit him. To scream. To run. But he’s right. I can’t do any of those things. I feel helpless and small and worthless.

  At this moment, I can only choose to obey.

  “Tell me that you’re mine forever,” he says huskily into my ear. It takes everything in me to push out the words.

  “I’m yours,” I say in a small voice.

  “Tell me you won’t ever get drunk and embarrass me like that again,” he demands tightly.

  “I won’t do it again,” I say softly, trying not to cry. But I can’t help it. Tears start to trickle down my face, and Vincent just smiles.

  “Good,” he says. “I accept your apology. Now it’s time to make up for it.”

  With horror, I watch as he undoes his belt.

  ---

  Fifteen minutes later, I’m sobbing in the shower, washing him off of my face and trying to forget everything he just made me do. I didn’t say anything after he finished on my face, telling me coldly to keep my eyes open even as his cum ran down my forehead. I couldn’t stop crying long enough to say anything, even if I’d been brave enough to, but that had just turned him on more.

  At least now the shower hides how loud I’m sobbing. I can’t stop it or hold it back. The tears come in hot, thick, heavy sobs as I step into the spray of the water. It beats down on me, soaking my hair and spilling over my skin. I can’t help but think of the first night that Vincent and I spent together, how we showered together, his hands spreading soap over my body as he kissed me and held me and made me feel like the most beautiful woman in the world. Like I was his world. How could I have been so stupid, to think a man like him would cherish a woman like me? To think that he could be a good man, a kind one? If the world taught me anything before Vincent, it’s that fairy tales aren’t real, and even the ones you trust to save you won’t in the end.

  “You’re so fucking stupid,” I whisper, bracing my hands against the shower wall. And then I slap myself, hard, across the cheek again and again. “So…fucking…stupid!” I bang my head against the wall, wanting it to hurt, wanting anything to stop the pain that I feel lancing through me. He owns me. I’m nothing to him except a possession. And he’s going to treat me like a pet that won’t behave until I learn to do exactly as he wishes, no more and no less.

  I have to pull myself together; I know that. Vincent won’t tolerate me embarrassing him in front of his family. He will expect grace, elegance, and poise. It hits me then, with a force that’s almost physically painful, everything he’s shown me in the past months, made clear by how blunt he was with me just now—Vincent never wanted me the way I was. He never loved me. He loved my potential, the ability to mold me into what he wanted in a wife. And unlike the other flowers that can leave him, he found a way to make me so indebted to him that I can never get away.

  I lean against the wall, letting myself cry until I can’t cry anymore. Everything I ever believed about us was a lie.

  And now I have to live with it, in my expensive clothes and in this beautiful house that’s even more lavish than the penthouse in Chicago, sure. But it doesn’t matter. It’s a very beautiful, gilded prison.

  When I walk out of the bathroom, one towel wrapped around me and another keeping my hair atop my head, Vincent is still sitting on the edge of the bed. My stomach knots and I swallow hard, coming to a dead stop. What else could he want? “Vincent?” I ask in a small voice, trying not to sound as afraid as I am. “What’s going on?”

  He smiles, his hands shoved in his pockets. “Well, I had a surprise for you, Poppy. I considered not letting you have it. After all, you didn’t fucking deserve it. But you were a good girl just now, and you looked so beautiful with my cum dripping down your face. So I suppose I forgive you.” I lick my lips nervously. “Yes,” I whisper, feeling jittery and unsure. I have no idea what Vincent’s surprise might be, but his moods are giving me even more whiplash than they used to. I know that’s on purpose, to keep me off-kilter and unable to plot an escape or a way out. But knowing why doesn’t make it any easier to deal with.

  “Alright then.” Vincent gives me a condescending smile. “Come in!” he calls out, and the door to the bedroom opens.

  11

  Rain

  My jaw almost drops as Dena walks in wearing skin-tight, low-rise j
eans that show her thong straps just above the edges—I guess the early 2000s are back in—and a crop top that shows off her flat stomach. Her long wavy black hair is tumbling down her back. She’s perfectly made up as always—as glamorous and beautiful as I feel frumpy and ugly right now, with my tear-swollen face and towels wrapped around me. As much as I want a friend right now, the fact that she’s here after what just happened and him dangling her in front of me like she’s a gift, a doll he’s approved of that I’m allowed to play with makes me feel worse than ever.

  “Hey, hun, she says with a smile. “ Heard you were in Italy, you lucky bitch.”

  “Yeah,” I say faintly, unsure of what to say exactly. “We had to visit Vincent’s family.”

  “We were happy to visit them,” Vincent corrects, his hands shoved in his pockets as he looks between the two of us.

  “I lick my lips nervously. “It was good to finally meet them.”

  “I thought Dena could help you unpack,” Vincent says brightly. “I see your suitcases still lying around, Poppy. You shouldn’t expect Andrea to do it all for you. You need to take care of some things yourself.”

  My cheeks burn at his admonishment, at the way he’s talking to me like a kid in front of Dena, and how she won’t see anything wrong with it makes me annoyed.

  “Well, I’ll leave you girls to it.” Vincent stands up, striding towards me and bending down to kiss me on the cheek. It takes everything in me not to flinch when he touches me and when he pulls away. Dena is practically making heart eyes at the two of us, as if we’re the most adorable thing she’s ever seen.

  Thirty minutes later, we’re sitting on the floor of my room while we unbox my jewelry, and picking at some sushi that she asked Andrea to order in, just as smoothly as if she lives here while drinking a vodka soda that she made despite the early hour. I’m not allowed anything other than seaweed and fish rolls and some edamame, and I watch enviously as Dena dips some shrimp tempura into a sweet sauce. There was a time when I would have ignored Vincent’s orders and eaten what I wanted, but after the roller coaster of this morning, I’m afraid to trust her entirely. For all I know, Vincent has her here to watch me and report back to him, just like April.

  “How’s Mallory?” I ask casually as I pull out a small jewelry box of earrings and start to poke through it, as if making sure everything is there. I don’t actually know—my jewelry collection, like everything else, has gotten so extensive that I couldn’t have told you if a pair of studs or a ring or some heels went missing. I’m sure the maids know that, too, but I don’t care. Good for them if they steal something and sell it. I don’t care about any of it anymore, and after all, that’s how I got here, right?

  Stealing.

  I’ve never regretted anything more.

  Dena shrugs. “I’ve moved out. We haven’t talked in a while.”

  My heart sinks. Dena was my only connection to Mallory, and they’re so different I can’t see them staying in touch.

  Dena opens the suitcase that has my bags in it, along with more clothes. “We never really gelled anyway,” she says casually as she pulls out a burgundy Chanel. “God, this is beautiful. Real calfskin, oh my God.” She strokes the purse and then tosses it aside, pulling out another in light blue suede. “This is last year, but I mean, who cares! Dolce is forever, right?”

  “You can have it if you want.” I feel numb. There are two more suitcases to unpack, and I don’t care about any of this. I almost wish Dena wasn’t here. She reminds me of my old life, and her excitement over things I could care less about makes all of this worse. I realize I’m not being fair to her. She did come all the way from Chicago to see me. Even if Vincent most likely paid for her ticket and hotel if he asked her to come.

  “Really?” Dena squeals as she shoulders it, looking in the mirror and kneeling down in front of the suitcase again, pulling out one of my dresses. “Do any of these not fit you anymore? I mean, you’ve gotten so thin…”

  As soon as she says that, I can’t stop myself. I burst into tears. They’re not delicate, pretty ones either—they’re harsh sobs, shaking my shoulders. I steal a glance at her vodka soda sitting on the nightstand; I want a drink desperately right now, anything to feel better. But April’s standing in the corner like a vaguely androgynous statue, and while she probably wouldn’t snitch on me for sneaking a sushi roll that had cream cheese in it, I know Vincent has probably told her that he doesn’t want me drinking anymore, and she’s going to enforce it.

  “Rain!” Dena turns towards me, looking alarmed. “Rain, what’s wrong?” To her credit, she drops the purse and abandons the suitcase of dresses, hurrying over to my side. “What is going on?”

  I try to stop, swallowing hard several times and sniffling, blowing my nose into a tissue she hands me. “Everything,” I whisper. “Everything has gone all wrong. Things were bad before we went to New York, but it’s just gotten worse. I was going to leave Vincent, but then he started paying for my dad's treatment, and…”

  “You were going to leave him?” Dena stares at me, uncomprehending. “Why on earth would you do that?”

  Her tone is enough to warn me that she’s not going to be as sympathetic as I’d hoped, but I keep going anyway. It’s too late to pretend that I don’t want to talk about it. She’s going to keep pressing. All I can do is hope she’ll understand if I explain more and that April won’t say anything to Vincent about what I’m spilling to Dena.

  “I found out that he’s cheating on me.” A fresh wave of tears follows that, but I manage to stifle them after a few moments. “He told me I can’t be friends with Mallory anymore because she stood up to him. He won’t let me go to school. He wants to control everything that I do. And it’s just gotten worse the longer I’m with him. I’m miserable.” I stop myself before I can say more, before I can tell her just how bad it’s gotten, the humiliating things he does to me.

  But instead, it has the opposite effect.

  Dena sits back, and when I look at her, I can see that the expression on her face is entirely void of sympathy. “That’s all?” She rolls her eyes. “Come on, Rain.”

  I sniffle. “What do you mean, ‘that’s all’?” I stare at her.

  “Most men cheat, especially the kind that looks like yours and has the money he has, but he chose you! You have to get a grip. So he’s a little rough around the edges? Look at this fucking house you live in! Who cares that you didn’t get to go to school? You don’t need it! Vincent is going to take care of everything you could ever need or want.” She emphasizes every word in the last sentence. She turns to face me, crossing her arms.

  “You need to start sucking it up and enjoying your life, Rain. Girls would kill to have what you have.”

  And I know she’s right. Hell, some of his other flowers would probably take my spot in an instant, even knowing what it really means to have it.

  I sink onto the bed, trying to get my sobs under control. Dena’s face is hard and unsympathetic, and that breaks my heart even more.

  Everyone has completely abandoned me.

  There’s a sudden knock at the door, and I nearly jump out of my skin. Dena glances at me and goes to answer it, and I see out of the corner of my eye that it’s Andrea standing there. I look away immediately, not wanting her to see how red and swollen and tear-stained my face is.

  “Lunch?” “ Sure, thank you so much.” Dena’s voice is sweet, almost simpering, and I feel a flicker of hate towards her for it. She should be on my side, but she’s not.

  No one is anymore.

  Vincent, Zach, and Sonya are all seated at the table when we come in. Erin is there as well, looking morosely at her plate and not saying a word. “My mother elected to take lunch in her room again,” Vincent says as Dena and I sit down. “My father isn’t feeling well. But you’ll meet them soon,” he says, looking in Dena’s direction.

  “I’m sure they’ll love you as much as Poppy and I do.”

  “I can’t wait to meet them,” Dena gushes, and I
do my best not to grimace. I can see both Zach and Sonya watching her curiously. I can’t help but wonder what Zach thinks of her, if he’s as blown away by her beauty as everyone else is or if he thinks it’s overdone. I can’t help but hope it’s the latter, even though it shouldn’t matter to me anymore.

  “I’m so glad you’re here, Dena,” Vincent continues. “Poppy needs someone to keep her company, with everyone else so busy.”

  I see Erin’s head come up a little. “I’m here,” she ventures, but Vincent ignores her entirely. I look over at her, biting my lower lip, and I reach for her hand under the table. She grasps it, and it’s the first flicker of hope I've had all day.

  “Andrea will be more than happy to help you settle in,” Vincent continues. “ I know Poppy will be glad to have one of her friends living with us, isn’t that right, Poppy?”

  I blink, staring at him. “Living with us? What?”

  “Is there a problem, Poppy? I thought you’d be ecstatic.”

  I see a flicker of surprise on Zach’s face at Vincent’s statement, and Sonya just smirks. I hate them all right now, even Zach. If he’d never left me, I wouldn’t be here. None of this would be happening to me.

  And your father would be dead.

  Isn’t that his own fault?

  It’s the first time I’ve had that thought, and I recoil from it like I’ve been slapped. But it lingers, even as I push it to the back of my mind, refusing to entertain it. Alcoholism is a disease, I tell myself. It’s not his fault. But I can’t quite get the thought to go away entirely, that I’m suffering over something he chose to ruin his—and our—life with.