by E M Courier
Alexander watches as she shifts uncomfortably, wincing, he knows her ass must hurt. He can’t help but smile. He wishes she would drop the sheet but there’s also apart of him that loves her resistance. Never once has he been ashamed of the human body. He never had any problems getting naked—though there was never any reason to be timid about his body. The gym has been his friend for many years and he worked hard to look the way he does.
And no he isn’t compensated for anything.
He’s just as impressive below the belt.
Shy women have always annoyed him. He loves all sized breasts, he loves skinny women, women of the bigger variety, and he found almost all pussy to be good pussy. So, he never once cared. A body is simply a body to Alexander and the female body is a gift.
Though, Scarlett wrapper in the sheet makes it feel like she is a forbidden fruit. One he would love to sink his teeth into. She is a tease skulking around her room, stubborn and shy. He briefly saw her body when she was naked over his lap, but never got the chance to truly admire it—leaving his imagination to run wild.
A cold shower settles his nerves, the intense desire he has for Scarlett can only be satisfied with his hand...for now.
***
Scarlett is absolutely mortified by what happened. She was sparked like some disobedient child and she liked it.
How could something like that make her feel like this?
The first hit Alexander bestowed upon her was horrible, the skin started to sting and she felt nothing but a cold hatredness toward him. Then he kept doing it and massaging the area and she became hyper aware of her naked body on his expensive suit and heat pooled between her legs.
She liked it.
Repulsed and disgusted by her own reaction she pushed him away. Her morals and pride winning over the thought of dinner. How could she face him after what he did? She couldn’t. So, she didn’t. Stubborn like her father, she was rewarded with no dinner.
Her stomach growled so loud it startled her. She hasn’t been this hungry since she was ten years old and her father could find a job in between moving to a new place. Her father had to steal stale bread that was in the dumpster outside the local bakery. She could fight this hunger just like she did then.
At least breakfast will be waiting for her tomorrow morning.
Scarlett lays on her side in bed, her butt still stinging and throbbing from Alexander's ministrations. She wants to cry but forces the tears to stay at bay. Her life has never been what she wanted it to be, but she was getting there and now it all feels like it was for nothing. Prisoner in a mansion with a sadistic man.
Her mind wanders to her father. Her father…
Alexander kidnapped him. Wanted him. Not her. But whatever sins her father committed against Alexander is being punished through Scarlett.
Has her father lied to her all her life? Hazel...the name feels familiar but she has always been called Scarlett. The earliest memory she has is after the car accident, her father standing by her side in the hospital and him calling her name—
Scarlett. Scarlett. Scarlett.
The car accident. It happened when she was seven years old, sixteen years ago. Alexander got the date right. The same date she was in the car accident was the same day Ellie Novak was killed.
Alexander’s words ring in her ears; Your father is responsible for the death of my sister.
Could he be lying? It had to be some sort of accident.
She doesn’t remember anything before waking up in the hospital, she guesses it is entirely possible that the car they hit was the car Ellie was in. Which would explain her father paranoia and the constant moving. His forbidding of Scarlett for going near New York City. Her birth certificate gone...would she see Scarlett Halloway or would it be an entirely different name?
Hazel?
Sitting up in bed she runs her hands through her hair trying to wrap her mind around it. Her brain starts to hurt and she can feel a migraine coming on.
If it was only an accident, then why would her father run?
Change their names.
Refuse to live on the east coast near New York City.
Never live in one place for too long.
Always look over his shoulder.
It is all starting to make sense and yet, it’s not. There are so many questions that need to be answered. The truth is what she wants. She wants to know why she is forced to live like a prisoner for a crime...a crime that should’ve been an accident. Had to be an accident. Why would her father have any interest in wrecking his car into Ellie Novak? Was she not his intended target? Who else was in the car with Ellie?
Too many questions are on her mind and sleep is now impossible. There is only one thing she wants to figure out and that is what really happened September Thirtieth, sixteen years ago?
***
CHAPTER SIX
Rosie unlocks Scarlett’s door in time for breakfast. She can smell the food as she descends from the stairs. It smells like waffles and pastries mixed with a citrus scent.
Her stomach rumbles louder telling her to the quicker she moves the quicker the delectable sweets will be in her growling belly.
Alexander is sitting at the head of the long oak table. He is freshly showered, his damp dark blond hair is combed back and he is dressed in a crisp gray suit. He picks up his eyes from the newspaper and doesn’t greet her with a smile, but simply stares. Standing there awkwardly she doesn’t know whether to move to sit or stand until given permission.
Scoffing at her own mentality, she takes her seat as far away from him as possible. He isn’t going to tell when she can or can’t move.
Alexander stands startling her, for a moment she thought he was going to yell at her or intimidate her, but he walks into the kitchen. Just as quickly as he walked in, he walks out taking his seat at the head again.
A maid comes out holding a tray full of food. She places a plate and a glass in front of Alexander and another plate and glass in front of the empty chair next to him.
The maid exits and Alexander digs in looking unbothered while Scarlett is seething. Too hungry to be stubborn, she abruptly stands from her seat sending her chair flying back and angrily stomps her feet as she walks to the spot next to him.
Alexander puts down his silverware and starts cutting the large fluffy Belgian waffles. The maple syrup smell making her mouth water. He grabs her fork picking up a cut piece and motioning it toward her mouth.
Is he really feeding her?
Giving him a deathly look she snatched the fork from him hand and shoves the piece into her mouth, moaning as she does so.
“Do I need to teach you another lesson on obedience. I won’t go easy this time,” he says warningly.
“I can feed myself.”
“No doubt. But you are in my house and you are my pet. Tell me, pet, shall I get you a collar to put around your pretty neck,” his finger skims across her throat, “That way when you touch the collar—feel the collar—you will know exactly who you belong to. Will that make you behave?”
“No,” she spits through gritted teeth.
“Until your attitude is better, you will not do anything without my permission. That includes eating,” he takes the fork from her and stabs another piece, guiding it to her mouth. “So I suggest if you want more liberties you’ll do as you’re told.”
Brows furrowed and eyes enraged, she opens her mouth and bitterly takes a bite. Alexander smiles as his mouth parts watching her lick the sticky syrup off her lips. The act feels too intimate.
Scarlett is forced to savor her food, Alexander waiting until she swallows to cut another piece. If she was eating herself she would’ve devoured three waffles in three minutes. Instead Alexander dotes on her, his slow movements and calculating eyes watching her closely. Forcing her to have patience.
Only when Scarlett is full does Alexander finish the rest of his breakfast. She doesn’t know if she should get up or not, afraid that Alexander will send her back to her room. The bedroom is
the last place she wants to be.
“Can I ask you something?” She reluctantly says.
“Go on,” Alexander stares down at the newspaper unbothered.
“How do you know what my father did wasn’t an accident?”
He looks up at her with his chilling green eyes. “Because I know things, Scarlett.”
“What things?”
“I’m not inclined to tell you anything,” he says curtly.
Alexander stands leaving the table and leaving Scarlett alone. Slowly she raises from her own seat and looks around the large downstairs. Her eyes catch the front door. Could her escape be so easy?
Approaching the door she hears someone clear their throat behind her. She didn’t even get her hand on the doorknob. Looking over her shoulder she sees Alexander holding a newspaper.
“Here,” he hands it to her.
The newspaper is old, but also in great condition. Underneath the headline is the date—dated two days after her car accident.
Wanted Man Involved in a Hit and Run
Saturday an accident on 8th Avenue killed six year old, Ellie Novak, daughter of Alexander Novak CCO of Novak a popular news company. Reports say Alexander Novak’s eldest son was driving the car. Witnesses saw a brown station wagon flee the scene, the car only made it a block over before abandoning the car on 9th Avenue. The owner of the car involved in the hit and run is businessman Gavin MacIntyer, who is presumed to be the driver during the accident. Witnesses also reported a small girl in the car with him. It is believed to be his seven year old daughter, Hazel MacIntyer. Gavin MacIntyer was recently detained by the police for the murder of his wife, Violet MacIntyer, just five days before the accident that took place Saturday. With insufficient evidence he was let go. Police report if you approach this man, do not approach. Please call the police tip line for any information of the whereabouts of Gavin MacIntyer.
Next to the article is a younger looking photo of her father. A mugshot.
“I wasn’t in New York when I went to the hospital.”
“Where were you then?”
Scarlett tries her hardest to remember. “I think Connecticut.”
“You think?”
“The doctors told me I was out for a while. When I woke up it was the second week of October.”
Alexander is silent. He takes the newspaper from her folding it up and placing it under his armpit. “That photo. You mean to tell me that wasn’t your father?”
“It was,” she replies in a soft voice. “But that is not my father's name or my name.”
“What about your mother?”
“She died from cancer. My father wouldn’t kill her, he loved her!”
“What was her name?” He asks. When Scarlett doesn’t answer he asks again in a more aggressive tone.
“Violet Halloway!”
“Violet and Scarlett, pretty funny,” he chuckles. “Your father killed your mother and killed my sister.”
Scarlett turns her head away forcing the tears in her eyes not to pool down her face. She doesn’t want to believe this. She can’t believe this.
“Do you still believe it was just an accident?” He grabs her chin ripping her head so her eyes meet his.
“Yes,” she tries to turn her head but his grip tightens.
“Can you truly look me in the eyes and lie?”
She is scared of his eyes. There’s no flicker of kindness, they’re cold and seemingly soulless. Not wanting to give in but also not wanting to tell him no, she doesn’t answer.
“Well?” He raises an eyebrow.
“I’m not answering you.”
“You’re disobeying an order?” He lets go of her. “I think you want to be punished. Did you enjoy what we did last night?” His crooked smile exudes arrogance.
“I want to talk to my father. I want to see him,” she crosses her arms stubbornly.
“And yet you still think you are in a place to make demands,” he scoffs. “Behave and we’ll see.”
***
Scarlett know exactly how to get under Alexander’s skin. Alexander found breakfast to be a headache, the angry glares and stubbornness made him want to swat her behind. She couldn’t just give into him, could she? Her sassy mouth makes him impatient and while he has decided to let her adjust he won’t be this kind for long.
No, soon he’ll break her. She will obey him and adore him and beg for him.
After showing her the newspaper that he has saved for the past sixteen years, he sends her to her bedroom. She opens her mouth daring to talk back, but with one look from Alexander and she shuts it right away. Rosie follows her up to the room to make sure all the doors are locked.
Alexander needs a moment to clear his head. His thoughts hurting his brain. Sitting on one of the sofas in the main area he rubs at his temples. The peace and quiet only lasts about five minutes before his ever-annoying cell phone goes off. Expecting to see Liam’s name, he is surprised when he sees the name of his youngest brother: Atticus.
“What?” He answers.
“Liam told me you caught the bastard.”
“Dad told you I’m on vacation. I don’t wish to be bothered.”
Just as he’s about to hang up Attitcus says, “Wait!” So Alexander’s waits. “I want to help you.”
“Help me with what?”
“Well, what were you planning on doing to him.”
“None of your business.”
“She was my sister, too. The others might not care to get their revenge, but I want it just as bad you do.”
Alexander smiles. “Little brother,” he sighs, “How do I know Liam isn’t standing next to you trying to get information.”
“He tried. Liam is too forgiving, but me and you are alike. We don’t forgive easily. I was too young when it happened to anything, but I’m grown and I want to take part in making him suffer.”
“I’ll think about it,” he presses the end button.
Atticus was the last to be adopted, but Ellie was the youngest. Atticus came to them when he was ten years old, having lived in the foster care system all his life. Atticus was trouble, getting suspended from schools for starting fights, detained by police for stealing at stores. He moved from foster home to foster home, no one wanting to take the ragged, troubled, southern boy into their home.
But Alexander’s mother wanted him. It was a hard adjustment for their family, but Atticus found his place in the family as one of them. As a Novak.
While his siblings mourned the day Ellie died, Alexander wandered around feeling empty, as though he wasn’t really there. They all cried and thought of her reminiscing stories and going through her clothes and toys. Alexander couldn’t even walk past her bedroom. He was so angry that he didn’t cry for an entire month after her death. There was a point where the guilt of being the one who was driving ate him alive so much that he didn’t think he could ever move on.
She begged him to sit in the front seat because she was a big girl now. Alexander knew it was a bad idea and yet he couldn’t say no to her. Maybe if she was in the backseat like she was supposed to...maybe...maybe she would’ve survived.
His teachers noticed a difference in him. His usual straight A’s turned to D’s until he was failing and by then he didn’t even show up to class. His parents put him in therapy, he occasionally called to cancel mimicking his father’s deep voice. Months passed and his family moved on and accepted the fact that Ellie was no longer with them, Alexander was still in a hopeless rut—lost and angry. He didn’t want to do anything with his life, he became obsessed over finding the man who killed his little sister.
Alexander finally found purpose in his life. He wasn’t going to die until the bastard that ruined his life was dead. He took money out of his savings to pay for the best private investigator in the United States. He spent all his savings, his father refusing to give him anymore. That is when he decided to go to college to get a degree and take over as CEO of Novak. His motivation skyrocketed, thriving in school once mor
e so he could make his own money working in his family’s company. Using his money to feed his obsession. To buy the best detectives, to buy this mansion that is isolated where no one will ever find Gavin. Where he can taunt and keep Scarlett forever.
Gavin plagued his mind and dreams, in his free time he thought of ways to torture him. To make him feel the emotional pain Alexander felt.
Now Gavin is finally in his grasp and the only emotional pain he can inflict on him is the emotional pain of knowing his daughter isn’t safe with a man like Alexander.
Downstairs in the cold basement of his house is Gavin tied to a chair, sleeping. Alexander fills a bucket with cold water throwing it on the old man. Gasping for breath, Gavin is wide awake and alert. Alexander throws the bucket on the concrete ground and begins to take off his suit jacket hanging it on a nearby hook.
Alexander rolls up the sleeves on his white button-up shirt. “Tell me, Gavin. Did you really think you were going to get away with murder?”
Gavin grits his teeth. “Fuck you,” he spits.
Alexander punched him across his face. His knuckles throb, but he loves the sensation of it. “You murdered my little sister.”
“I’m not answering your questions. You might as well kill me!”
“Oh no,” Alexander chuckles. “When I was younger I wanted to take the cowards way out, for sixteen years I suffered and I’m going to make you suffer.”
“Go ahead,” the old man tries to act brave, but Alexander can see through the facade. His eyes are screaming with fear.
“You murdered your wife, why?”
No answer.
Grabbing a box of tools he pulls out a pair of pliers. “I hope you don’t like your fingernails.”
He sets the tool and begins to pull making this slow and painful. Gavin screams but he still doesn’t give any information. “You were running. If it were an accident you would have never run. You murdered my sister!”