Revenge

by E M Courier

  But she hates it.

  “Admit it,” he whispers. “You’re wet.”

  “No.”

  Alexander raises an eyebrow but his hand tugs at the belt of her robe, opening it up. Her breast and body exposed to him. His hand cups her running a finger along the slickness he feels there. Scarlett squirms with embarrassment.

  “You can tell me you hate me all you want,” he smirks, “but your body loves me.”

  His finger starts to rub in circles on her and her knees begin to buck. The intense sensation of his skin on her most sensitive area makes her scream with delight.

  “Admit it,” he repeats.

  When she doesn’t give into him, Alexander pulls his fingers away. Scarlett whines at the loss of contact, her blue eyes opening wide. Alexander straightens the blazer of his suit, slicks his hair back with his hands and walks down the hallway, toward her door, unlocking it and holding it open for her to enter.

  “Good night, Scarlett,” he ends their session too soon.

  Scarlett is flustered and her body aching with the need for release. Her self-control is on a threat, she is close to throwing herself on her knees and begging him to continue. But, she re-ties the robe around her waist and walks past him with her head held high—and with what little dignity she has left—she will not give in.

  He shuts the door and locks it, but not before saying, “Only good girls get to come. Think about what you can do to please me and maybe tomorrow I will please you.”

  ***

  It took Alexander an ungodly amount of willpower to not take her against the wall in the hallway of his mansion. His cock is throbbing from their very mild foreplay. It usually took a lot to get Alexander off, a very specific amount of foreplay—usually a girl who could give one hell of a blowjob—and an act of dominance of the girl he’s with.

  His favorite grabbing a girl by her ponytail, forcing her down on her knees, and making her choke with what hangs between his legs.

  Kissing never did the trick for Alexander. Girls liked kissing, but not him, he found it unnecessary but usually he obliged. But Scarlett’s skin is so soft and smells so good that his mouth waters with the need to taste her. Her little moans just from the simple act is driving him wild. She’s so innocent and inexperienced and it makes him so hard that his pants are at risk of bursting.

  He loves the fight with her. He’s so used to girls flinging themselves at him where this is a conquest with a delicious reward. He loves the forbidden aura she radiates with. The warning: Do not to touch or else.

  He likes the option of ‘or else’ it’s thrilling.

  Scarlett is so pure that Alexander can’t wait to dirty her. She is a juicy peach that is meant to be savored, you want to take your time devouring her. Delectable.

  What is even more thrilling are the security cameras plastered everywhere. Gavin will surely enjoy the sight of his precious untouched daughter giving into a monster like Alexander. He’s already seen pictures of the lovebites he gave her. After Scarlett’s bath, which she fell asleep in, Alexander placed her naked body neatly on her bed. He brushes her hair away from her neck to expose the red and purple hickeys he gave her. He took pictures to show Gavin who screamed with rage. Threatening that if he touched his daughter one more time, Alexander would be a dead man. But, Alexander would not be a dead man, not with Gavin tied and weak in his basement.

  Alexander loved how much Gavin struggled and acted like a feral dog chomping his teeth toward Alexander. The craziness in his eyes as well as the desperation to leave his daughter alone. It only egged Alexander on more.

  What else could he do to leave his mark on Scarlett?

  The possibilities excite him so much that that plus their heated session calls for a cold shower. When the cold shower doesn’t calm him down he has to take care of business like he’s a hormonal thirteen year old boy again.

  Sleep doesn’t come easy Alexander that night. His dreams are plagued by Scarlett. Waking up every so often from dreams that feel too real and too good. He even goes as far as to watch the surveillance camera to watch her sleep. The thought of her wet paradise makes him so hard that he’s tempted to ruin everything he’s worked toward. To go into her room and take what will soon be his. But not tonight.

  Savor. Wait.

  And when the time is right, only then will she be his and she will do it begging for more. She will do while giving her entire body, heart, and soul to him. Alexander will take everything she gives. He will take it and use it to destroy Gavin.

  The only thing the lulls Alexander back to sleep is the thought of turning the man who murdered his sister into a lifeless shell.

  Alexander wakes in time for breakfast just minutes before Rosie will unlock Scarlett’s door. He eats his waffles before she joins him and he takes his time feeding her. He enjoys watching her soft pink lips part and open accepting the food he provides for her.

  Rosie enters the room without Scarlett which pisses Alexander off greatly. When asked where she is, Rosie says Scarlett refusing to come down. Whatever good mood he is in disappears quickly. Fists clenched he storms into Scarlett’s room. Scarlett is lying in her bed, fetal position, and has the sheets over her head.

  “Get up,” he orders. “You’re not missing breakfast.”

  “Go away,” she says softly.

  He rips the covers from her and she winces covering her entire face with her arms. A flicker of worry runs through his mind. Usually Scarlett will cover up her naked body—not her head.

  “Breakfast is waiting downstairs.”

  “I’m not hungry,” her voice sounds sad. “Please. I don’t want to go downstairs.”

  Alexander sits on the edge of her bed. He recognizes her tone as her being in pain. He gently grabs her arm pulling it away from her face. Her eyes screw shut from the light and she groans accordingly. “Please,” she pleads again.

  “What’s the matter with you?” He hides all emotion from his voice.

  “Migraine,” she manages to get out.

  “Eat. It’ll make you feel better,” he stands hoping she’ll follow.

  But she doesn’t.

  He urged her downstairs for breakfast one more time. Scarlett doesn’t answer. She grabs her pillow and puts it over her head whimpering quietly.

  Frustrated he goes into his office and pulls out his laptop searching the word ‘migraine.’ Alexander isn’t stupid to the point where he doesn’t know what a migraine is, but he is ignorant to the fact that he’s never had one. He doesn’t know how debilitating one is.

  What to do for a migraine?

  After searching hundreds of answers and writing down hundreds of possible solutions to help someone suffering from a migraine, he heads downstairs with his list and starts his search.

  Ice pack.

  Ibuprofen.

  Coffee.

  He grabs all this and a tray where he fills her plate with food. Heading back up to her room he sets the tray on the edge of the bed while he draws the curtains blocking out any light. The room isn’t bright, but still enough to see. He sets on the edge of the bed and helps her take the painkillers first. He encourages her to drink all the water to hydrate herself as well as encouraging her to eat some of the waffles made for breakfast.

  Alexander lets her feed herself and she does so slowly. Under normal circumstances he would feed her himself, but he grabs the ice pack putting it against her head and keeping it there while she eats. She keeps her eyes shut probably still feeling the pounding sensation of her migraine. She moans softly while she eats and Alexander feels a tinge of accomplishment feeling as though he is making her feel better.

  After the waffles are gone, half the coffee is drunk, and the ice pack is a quarter melted, he leaves her to get some rest. Alexander uses the app on his phone to regularly check the surveillance cameras to see how she is doing. He feels a strong sense of protectiveness over her. Watching her withering and groan in pain while in bed doesn’t sit right with him.

  The scr
een is interrupted by a phone call—David. Alexander is reluctant to answer but after he asked David to find out whatever information he could about a hospital in Connecticut that nursed Scarlett after the accident, he had to answer.

  “What did you find?” He cuts to the chase.

  “Scarlett was treated for brain trauma and amnesia.”

  Alexander is momentarily speechless. “What kind of amnesia?”

  “Long term. You said Scarlett denied her name ever being anything but Scarlett...I believe she might be telling the truth. Or at least she thinks she is.”

  Alexander curses.

  “Paid off some doctors to see her brain scans...she’s lucky the accident didn’t leave her brain dead. But it left her with a lot of side effects. Long term, too, so they say.”

  “That explains a lot,” Alexander rubs at his forehead. “Shit. Thanks David.”

  He throws his phone on his desk when he hangs up feeling frustrated as well as guilty. This girl who has already been through so much, who is still suffering from her injuries from that day, is suffering even more at his hands.

  Scarlett truly is innocent. The confusion card she played at not knowing wasn’t an act. She truly is confused and he made it all the more complicated by throwing that newspaper at her. She’s scared and for once Alexander hates the monster he’s become.

  After hours of debating, thinking, and mulling things over, Alexander makes a painful decision. In Scarlett’s bedroom, she looks a bit better, her eyes opened halfway and she gives him a smile. A smile. It makes his heart ache. She shouldn’t be smiling at him.

  “What do you remember?” He says softly brushing her mousey brown hair out of her face. “About the accident. About your life before then.”

  “Nothing,” she admits. “My father told me we lived in Connecticut. Told me I was born and raised there. We lived with my mother until she died of cancer.”

  “You have no memory of New York City?”

  “I've never been to New York City until after college,” she sits up holding the side of her head.

  “Scarlett,” he sighs. “You were born in New York City. Your father lied to you.”

  “I know,” she starts to tear up. “I don’t understand why.”

  “My little sister,” Alexander clenched and unclenched his fist fighting the murderous urge he has toward Gavin—that piece of shit. He hates the sad look in her eyes. The confusion and the need for the truth. This will help her understand, but it might hurt her. “She was your little sister. Your mother left your father, he was abusive. She got pregnant with Ellie by another man and gave her up. Probably for a better life. Probably because she knew she would never be free from your father. He found out and killed your mother and then killed Ellie,” Alexander closes his eyes remembering the intense pain he felt the day she died.

  “My sister?” She shakes her head. “I don’t understand.”

  “I know it’s a lot to take in,” Alexander opens his eyes but doesn’t meet her stare. “Your father has to die. He has to die for the crimes he committed against me...and you.”

  “No! No, I thought he was supposed to stay alive. You take me but you let him live!” She becomes hysterical but still winces from the pain in her head.

  Alexander tries to calm her down. “What do you want?” He asks her. He’s never asked anyone this before. He’s always done what he wants.

  “I don’t know,” she wipes a tear from her cheek. “I’m not sure. He’s my father, I love him. He’s always been so kind and loving to me. He’s all I have left in this world. Please...I don’t want him to die.”

  His jaw ticks from the frustration he feels from her response. If she would’ve said yes, then maybe the rage inside of him would go away. The guilt. The sadness. The obsession. “Then I won’t kill him,” she perks up but he holds his hand up, “but he won’t be free. Not after what he did to Ellie or to your mother. I can see how much he loves you and that is why I must keep you here, too. Your father has seen a side of me,” the side that tortured him and enjoyed it, “and he hates me touching you. He is driven crazy with thoughts of what I do to you,” his finger skims up and down her goosebumped armed. “It’s his punishment. He must be punished.”

  Scarlett nods her head in understanding, but the tears continuously running down her face tell him she’s conflicted. She accepts her father did something bad, but she has no memory of her father ever being a malicious person.

  “I’ll give you time to think by yourself,” Alexander exits the room but not before taking one last look at her.

  Scarlett is sitting upright in the middle of her bed, the covers bunched at her hips exposing her breasts. She’s staring down at her hands resting on her lap. Her mouth slightly parted and head slightly shaking. He feels bad for her unknowingly wrapped in this just as much as he is. Having to comply to her father after all these years, never being able to live a normal life because he has always been on the run since that day sixteen years ago.

  She’s a victim.

  Something doesn’t sit right with Alexander. His stomach is twisted with guilt while his mind still obsesses over having his revenge.

  Stick to the plan, he has to tell himself.

  ***

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Scarlett isn’t sure how to feel.

  She loves her father. She hates her father.

  Can she truly believe a word Alexander says?

  But why wouldn’t she?

  She has no memory of her past which was supposedly an abusive time where her father hit her mother. Killed her mother. A past where a non-accidental car accident took away so much. She never blamed her father for the scar on her head, the confusion and compulsions in her mind, or the migraines inside her head.

  But maybe she should.

  Her father doesn’t have a vicious bone in his body.

  But maybe he does.

  There’s so much she doesn’t know. Her life has been a lie. Her father, the man she loved and trusted with all her heart, has been feeding her lies.

  Her real name isn’t even Scarlett.

  Hazel. Why does it sound familiar?

  Her brain hurts too much, so she sleeps.

  The sun brightly shines through the window, the clock on her bedside table reads a quarter past six in the morning.

  Memories of last night flood her mind overwhelming her to the point of an anxiety attack. Scarlett has the sudden urge to clean her room organizing it to her satisfaction. First she makes her bed, there are no wrinkles in the covers, the crisp corners folded into the mattress looking as perfect as a bed under inspection in the military. She picks the lint off the comforter on her bed, her compulsions and obsession taking over. Suppressing the truth and lies of her dark and forgotten past.

  Scarlett wishes she had cleaning products. She tries the cabinet under the sink—nothing. Of course. She uses a towel to wipe dust off the desk she’s never used and uses it to dust and wipe off the window sill. Smudges on the glass window cause her eye to twitch. She needs cleaning supplies.

  She has to clean.

  Cleaning will make it all go away.

  The door opens a few inches, squeaking as it does so. “Scarlett?” Alexander is standing in the threshold.

  She looks at him just as quickly as she looks away. Her gaze returning to the dirt on the carpet below her. “Do you have a vacuum?”

  “Yes,” Alexander replies warily. “I can have the maid come and—”

  “No,” she shakes her head whispering. “I will. I’ll get it done.”

  Alexander takes a step closer, his movements slow and careful. “Scarlett? Are you feeling okay?”

  “No. No, I need something to clean the carpet.”

  “The carpet is fine,” Alexander walks over analyzing the carpet. “What’s going on?” He grabs her shoulders forcing her standing in front of him and look at him.

  “I-I need to clean,” she tries to squirm out of his grip.

  “Calm down,” his grip gets tig
hter. “If your room is so messy I can call for the maid. It’s nothing to get hysterical about,” his eyebrows furrow.

  “Yes, it is,” she sobs. “Let me go!”

  “Not until you tell me what’s wrong.”

  “The carpet!”

  “We both know the carpet is not the main focus of your worries.”

  Scarlett breaks down. “I don’t understand,” she takes a deep shuddering breath. “Why did he do it? Why did he kill my mother? My supposed sister? Why did he do it with me in the car?”

  Alexander holds her while she cries gently shushing her while using one of his hands to pet her hair. She plants her nose into her chest inhaling the musky scent of his cologne. She cries until exhaustion hits making her eyes droopy and tired.

  ***

  Scarlett fell asleep in Alexander’s arms. What it was—he doesn’t know. Some sort of panic attack. Cleaning to cope with her emotions? Alexander lays her on her bed and exits the room to set his own mind straight.

  He still needs more answers just as much as she does. Before he can make his way downstairs to get some of those answers—his phone rings. His phone has been on silent recently, tired of his siblings calling him incessantly with their worry. Liam especially. So, it’s no surprise when he checks his phone that the person calling him is Liam.

  “What?” Alexander answers.

  “Where are you?” Liam asks. Just as Alexander opens his mouth to answer, Liam chimes in to say, “And don’t hang up on me like last time. We are worried about you. You told Mom and Dad you are out of town. Where did you go?”

  “I’m still in the state. No need to worry too much,” Alexander replies simply.

  “What about Scarlett? Or Gavin—did you kill him?”

  “It must be a pleasure for you to hear that I have not killed him,” Alexander sounds vexed.

  “Don’t give me that. You know I’d love to see that bastard die. We all want justice for Ellie, but Alex...I don’t want you to be a murderer. We already lost a huge piece of you when she died, I don’t want to lose the other half because you killed him.”