by Riley Ashby
Meyer wore his wealth like armor, letting it shield him from criticism and culpability, but Anita treated it more like a friend. I got the feeling the thick black credit card in her wallet was more loyal to her than anyone she had in her life, except for perhaps her massage therapist and nail technicians.
Different as they were, their perceptions of money were still foreign to me. Growing up, we often didn’t have enough to pay both the rent and our grocery bill, but my parents always found a way to get me fed. I became adept at inviting myself to friends’ houses for lunch or dinner, though I suspected now that their parents knew what was going on in my home life. I went home with leftovers my mom refused to touch, insisting I use them for the next day’s lunch or freeze for a later date. When my parents surprised me with a brand-new dress for my sweet sixteen, I cried at the thought of how much they must have had to forego to afford it.
“When you were born, your mother told me how important this would be one day, Mads.” My father held me against his chest while I cried, unable to take my eyes off the sparkling pink gown. “I started saving that day. Sometimes, it was only a dollar a week. But it was worth it to see you like this.” He kissed my head and smoothed my hair back, then wiped the tears from my cheeks.
“No more crying,” he said with authority, which only made me weep anew. “Go try it on. I can’t wait to see my princess in her dress.”
I wondered now if Anita had ever been lucky enough to feel even half that amount of affection from her own family. Meyer certainly hadn’t. If he had been loved a little more, would he be more normal?
It isn’t worth wondering about, I told myself. With Conrad as his father, he was damned from the start.
I noticed Anita had stopped speaking and was snapping her painted fingers in front of my face.
“Are you there, Madeline? You look totally spaced out.”
I shifted my thoughts back to the room, and Anita’s face came back into focus. I suddenly felt suffocated, surrounded by A/V equipment and leather recliners that cost more than my entire house.
“Could I go outside?”
Her jaw dropped open as genuine disbelief played across her face. “You haven’t been outside since you got here?”
I bit my lip. No way I was telling her about yesterday. “Just the bedroom and that breakfast room.”
She shook her head, making a distasteful noise. “I can’t believe him. I don’t enjoy the outdoors myself, but I still know it’s inhumane to deprive someone of the sun. Come on.”
Meyer had hidden my shoes after we came back inside yesterday, but Anita dug out a pair of flip-flops she had left there at a prior visit and handed them to me. My heels hung over the back because they were a bit too small, but at least I could walk.
Feeling the sun on my face, unfiltered by windows and curtains and Meyer’s toxic gaze, meant more to me than it ever had before. I let my eyes close, turning toward the sun like a flower and feeling my heart bloom the smallest bit. I could smell ragweed on the wind and knew I would feel the brunt of my allergies later, but it seemed a small price to pay for this bit of freedom.
Anita fell silent for the first time since she had arrived. We walked in comfortable silence as the heat of the day pulled forth beads of sweat from the skin on the back of my neck. I pulled my hair back into a ponytail with an elastic I had magically been able to hold onto since I was first taken.
“How much of this land belongs to Meyer?” I was trailing my fingers along a wooden fence that was well cared for and stained a dark brown. It was warm from the sun.
“None of it, really. Daddy won’t let him buy it even though he’s offered to pay twice what it’s worth. Just greedy, if you ask me. I think he’s trying to lord it over Meyer to keep him in line until he dies, threatening to take him out of the will and whatnot.”
My heart shriveled; I felt a sudden chill despite the heat. Even when I was with Meyer, I was still under Conrad’s thumb. “So not even the house belongs to him?”
She shook her head. “He built the house with his own money, but the land and everything else on it still belongs to Daddy. At least he built it so far back on the property that Daddy doesn’t like to come out here very often, and when he does, there’s plenty of time to realize he’s coming. Relative privacy, given everything.”
I struggled to breathe normally. Conrad could come out here—wherever here was—any time he wanted. Meyer would probably know when he was near, but he’d never tell me. I had been counting my blessings at being Meyer’s captive, instead of belonging to his cruel father, but that was just a technicality. Conrad had full access to me. Meyer would never be able to protect me from his father, even if he wanted to.
I stopped walking and leaned against the fence, struggling to keep my composure. Thankfully, Anita didn’t seem to notice. She was telling me more about the protected wetlands and endangered species habitats on the acreage when I noticed we had drawn close to a large building. I straightened, cheered.
“That’s a stable. Are there horses here?”
“The only thing you’ll be riding is me, Mads.” Meyer’s voice caught me completely off guard, and I jumped as he laid his hand across my back, curling his fingers against my neck. I shrank away, but he held me firm. “Conrad doesn’t like animals. He distrusts unconditional love.”
I looked up, expecting to find those fierce blue eyes fixated on me, but he was looking at Anita with disdain. She was pretending not to notice, having pulled out her phone again.
“I told you, you’re not welcome.”
“Oh, come off it.” She didn’t even look up. I could practically feel the anger pouring off him.
“I mean it. You need to go.”
She looked up now, throwing attitude right back at him. “You’re being rude in front of a guest.”
“My guest,” he emphasized, moving his hand to my waist. I spun out of his grip and leaned against the fence, desperate to get out of his line of fire. He looked away from his sister for the first time to give me a once-over before turning back to her. “Leave. Now.”
She shrugged, acting indifferent, but she was visibly angry. “I’ll just come back when you’re not here.”
“Joshua will remove you.” He tucked his hands in his pockets, and I recognized the classic power pose he adopted when driving home a point or sealing a lucrative deal. He was flawless in his suit and tie. I had seen him in this getup on TV plenty of times, but being next to him lent an entirely different tone to his presence. I fixated on his rigid jawline as he contained his displeasure. “I won’t ask again. Go.”
Ignoring him, she turned to me and embraced me swiftly before Meyer could step in. “I’ll be back,” she whispered in my ear, then walked back toward her red Maserati parked in front of the house.
Meyer seemed frozen until she drove away, then he relaxed a modicum and faced me for the first time. I crossed my arms and turned back toward the fence.
“So it’s not just me you’re horrible to. Do all women get that treatment?”
Grabbing my shoulders, he spun me around and pushed me toward the house.
“Take my advice here. Stay away from my sister. She does not have good intentions.”
“Don’t touch me.” I was glad he couldn’t see my face. My cheeks burned at having him so near, recalling the memory of his hard cock pressed up against me as I leaned helplessly against the tree. The way his fingers felt inside me. The orgasm that claimed me before I snapped to my senses. And now, the raw mixture of hate and lust that swirled in my gut every time our eyes met. I felt sick to my stomach. How could I feel anything but loathing for this man? He had all but said he’d kill me if I didn’t bow to him, yet the goose bumps I got when he was near came from a mixture of fear and lust, and not simply unease.
“You’re looking better,” he said with clinical detachment. “Are you still in much pain?”
Pursing my lips, I was unwilling to admit I was feeling better because I worried he would use it as an excuse
to hurt me again. I had nearly caved and let him take me yesterday. My eyes trailed down the muscles of his arms even now.
He frowned at my silence but didn’t push me and took me into the house. He gave me more painkillers, showing me the bottle to prove it wasn’t anything unexpected, then walked me back to the bedroom where he tied me to the bed again and pointed at the floor. I stayed where I was.
“Do as you’re told,” he growled, but I didn’t move.
“Forget it. I’m not getting on my knees before you, ever.”
The suggestion wasn’t lost on him. He gave a half smile, just one corner of his infuriatingly beautiful mouth turning up as he stepped closer. Standing less than an inch from me, he let his jacket fall to the floor. I realized I was pressed back against the footboard. He was always backing me into corners, trapping me against the nearest unmovable surface.
“You seemed pretty close yesterday.”
I swallowed, cursing the blush that rose to my cheeks. His hand darted to my neck, pulling my face to his. I screamed at myself to fight him, to pull back, but I let him draw me in less than a centimeter from his lips.
His scent was making me furious.
He traced his nose along my cheek, moving his breath to my ear.
“You belong to me. In every way.”
I willed myself to hold still, to stop the heat growing in my core. This was ridiculous. The man had struck me multiple times, on top of the injuries I sustained when I was abducted, but the very feel of him so close to me drew me toward him like a magnet. I thought the hairs on my arms were probably standing straight, reaching toward him as if I could lure him closer by sheer force of will.
I swallowed. “Not every way.”
Don’t kiss him.
He planted a firm, possessive kiss on my cheek before I could react. “You will soon enough.”
I made a show of rubbing my face where he had touched me, but he was picking up his jacket and hanging it carefully in the closet. I could just see him through the door as he brushed it with a lint roller before moving to pull off his tie. When he began to unbutton his shirt, he turned and looked at me. I flinched and looked down.
He walked out a few minutes later in jeans and a T-shirt, untying me as quickly as he had bound me only a few minutes before.
“Hardly seems worth the effort,” I said, rubbing my wrists. I felt dry skin where the material had cut through again and again, trying to callous. Noticing my discomfort, Meyer retrieved some thick lotion and spread it around the red skin with his own hands. He ran his thumbs along my palms, never taking his eyes off my face. I forced myself to focus on his fingers.
“I don’t want you running off. Who knows what animals you’ll run into.”
“Why should it bother you if someone shows me a bit of kindness in the midst of this nightmare?”
He pulled on each of my fingers now, flexing them until the joints cracked. I felt myself relaxing.
“Anita doesn’t want to help you. She’s after something. Better to stay away from her.”
I scoffed. “You’re unbelievable.”
He frowned, flipping my arm over and focusing on my carpal tunnel. I let out a sigh before I could catch myself. He smiled. “I already know your body.”
As I came back to myself, I snatched my arms away. This time, he made no effort to contain me. He stepped back, hands in his pockets, as unaffected by me as he was by anything.
“I don’t understand why you’re fighting me, Madeline. I could give you a good life here if you let me. I don’t have the same compulsion to cause pain that my father does.”
He had the audacity to stand in front of me, while my face and body healed from bruises that seeped pain into my bones while I slept, and tell me he didn’t want to hurt me? I finally was able to sputter forth a coherent thought. “You tried to rape me yesterday!”
He shook his head. “I did no such thing. Certainly, I did nothing you didn’t enjoy.”
I wrapped my arms around my waist, aware that I looked afraid, but in reality, I was trying to hold myself steady. I was ready to launch myself at him. I thought I could tear his vocal cords from his throat with my bare hands. “You were able to elicit responses from my body. Nothing more. I don’t want any part of you on or inside me. Ever.”
He let his eyes roam over my body in a way that brought a rush of blood to my face. My obvious discomfort only made him smile, that same insufferable grin he offered to reporters when they asked him how he felt about his company’s weapons being used against unarmed civilians in war-torn countries. He was separate from them, an entire world away. The same distance existed between us now even though we stood in the same row, mere feet away from each other.
He didn’t see me as real.
I was just a toy.
“You are so pathetic. You think you are so above the rest of us that you can take lives in exchange for cash or favors. I meant what I said to your father the other night—your family is fucking crazy.”
As I spoke, his body flushed with anger. His perfect jaw clenched the same way it had when he spoke to his sister outside. His arms, folded across his chest to give him a casual air, tensed as he closed his fists.
I let loose the question rolling around in my head for the past two days, the question I wasn’t sure I wanted to know the answer to. A conversation from when I decided to move to New York. My mother holding my hands and begging me to change my mind, pleading, “There are men there who will hurt you, Mads. Men who will pay more money for women than they spend on food in a year.”
I’d thought she was just being dramatic and had watched too many movies.
Now I wasn’t so sure.
“How does your father know my mother, Meyer? Did he buy her?” I swallowed the lump growing in my throat. “Was she his slave?”
His eyes narrowed at me, eyebrows drawing together in anger. “Watch your mouth, little girl. I’m not known for my patience.”
His tone wasn’t even warning. I heard the promise of punishment, now or later, whether or not I continued speaking. This was a topic he didn’t want to broach. But why, when he’d been taunting me with his knowledge and withholding it like food or water? I stepped forward, encroaching on his space. He held his ground, but the quality of the air in the room had changed. The sexual tension had dissipated and was replaced with pure fury. My fury.
“You will never own me, no matter what you say. You can tie me up until I wither away to nothing, but my soul is not for sale. And certainly not to someone like you. I’m going to find out why you’ve brought me here, and I’ll dig up every dirty little secret you’re trying to hide.”
He raised his hand to slap me, but my hand was already poised to block it. I batted him away and shoved him hard, the force of all my anger flowing through my palms into his chest. He had the good grace to look surprised, fearful even, before wrapping me in a bone-crushing embrace. I struggled to breathe, my injured ribs threatening to undo all the healing from the past two days and the numbing from the pills. But I held firm, refusing to give an inch of defeat. He came close to my face again, no hint of desire lingering in his gaze.
“Watch. Your. Mouth.”
He let me go suddenly. I stumbled back against the bedframe, trying to catch my breath. I felt inexplicably mute. He looked almost humiliated, embarrassed by my accusations. I had gained some ground here. I didn’t know what it meant, but I had won something just now.
Facing the wall, I brushed my hair out of my face and tied it up.
“What is plan B?”
He stalked to the door and held it open, gesturing that I should precede him out. I folded my arms and stood my ground. He raised an eyebrow and mimicked my stance, mocking me.
“It’s not time to talk about that yet. I’ll give you more information later.”
He made me so exasperated. I realized I was grinding my teeth, mirroring his physical reactions to stress. I forced myself to slacken my jaw. “I want to know now. You owe me.”
> “I owe you nothing,” he spat, slamming the door closed and crossing the room to me in two broad strides. “You are here because your family owes mine. Owes mine for a lifetime of pain and loss.”
He was pointing at me now, jabbing his finger into my sternum. I crossed a protective hand over myself and stepped back without realizing it. My jaw clenched again.
“Can’t you just be grateful? You don’t have it so bad. If you continue to act like a spoiled brat, I’ll just send you over to Conrad. I’m sure he’d love it.”
No. No, he can’t.
The threat sent me reeling. I stepped back again, consciously fleeing from him this time.
“You can’t. You wouldn’t be that ruthless.”
I became aware of the pleading tone in my voice. He smiled, realizing he had the upper hand again. The tips of his toes touched mine as he stepped even closer.
“Are you willing to bet on that?”
My hands flew out to grab his arms, trying to push him away from me, but he was immovable. With that damn smile on his face, he was so clearly his father’s son, the offspring of an unspeakable evil that had plagued my family for years before I was even born. My mother had left at some point, clearly to flee Conrad’s cruelty, but I was now paying the price. Not that I blamed her for taking off. But I realized that was how it would be—no matter what Meyer did to me or threatened to do to me, I could only push him so far. The threat of him turning me over to his psychotic father would always hang over my head. The one who’d sought out my mother halfway across the country and then came for me six years later. I was never getting out of here.
I did fall to my knees then, but only briefly, before I found myself almost prone on the floor. He looked totally unconcerned, even amused.
“Get up. You’re embarrassing yourself.”
“It doesn’t matter,” I muttered, not trusting my legs to hold me. I braced myself for him to hit me, kick me, or pull me to my feet by my hair, but nothing came. He crouched down in front of me, ducking his head to catch my eye. I trained my gaze on the carpet. He reached out and tutted my chin, lifting my face to his.
