“Let me guess, but he grew tired of you so I should expect he’ll tire of me before long too?” Wynter bit back. She couldn’t help herself and hated how obvious Joanna was being with her envy towards the new girl. Yes, it was clear she adored Marcus and would do anything for him. Apparently, she’d loved him and chosen to live no life outside of the club all these years even though he hadn’t shown her any love in return. That was absolutely fine if it was what made her happy, but Wynter could see it hadn’t. Joanna yearned for Marcus in ways she herself couldn’t understand, but guessed it had to be the years of being under his spell. There was no other explanation for it. Surely no one could love such a monster without being forced to?
“He knows I’ll never let him down. That I’ll run toward him rather than away. With you, I can see you’re resisting him. Not doing your duty. It’s a wonder he’s even kept you on,” she retorted, eyeing Wynter as if she were just some foolish girl. If she were honest, she sometimes felt as if she was. Marcus had her head in a spin and her heart and soul in tatters. She was playing games she didn’t even know how to play and always seemed to be on the losing side rather than making progress, but she wouldn’t give up. Not now, not ever.
Plus there was one victory she’d had that Joanna knew nothing about. None of them did. Wynter was free. She was under no curse, just the moral obligation she had made in order to keep those she cared about safe. She could leave at any time, just so long as she was ready to face the consequences for doing so. In spite of the dark repercussions, that knowledge gave Wynter a great deal of power, and a certain authority over people like Joanna. She might be the new girl, but she was no fool. She’d beaten the system, and was the sole person able to say she’d done so.
As if to say, I know something you don’t know, Wynter let a sly smile creep onto her face and she delighted in Joanna’s surprised response. She’d clearly expected her to come back with something just as foul, but instead Wynter remained silent. Her smile screamed with everything she’d left unsaid and she could tell Joanna wasn’t pleased.
She clearly wanted desperately to know what secret she hadn’t been let in on. That thought made it all that much sweeter, and Wynter then happily rode down in the otherwise empty lift with her fellow manager without another word said between them.
They arrived at the third floor and Joanna got out, but Wynter remained inside. She hit the button for the basement instead and arrived in seconds. She then headed down the long hallway to the door, which buzzed open the moment she arrived.
Inside, she found Phoebe and some of the other engineers huddled around another piece of equipment like they had been the first day she’d come down. Wynter went over to them and saw that this time was different though, and there was no argument over what best to do with an old piece of kit, just silence.
The group of them were standing around a laptop, which was open and had a webpage up, and they were each reading it.
Wynter moved closer and tried to see what it was, but couldn’t make it out.
“What’s going on?” she asked the man to her right. Palmer, she seemed to remember his name was.
“Mr Cole has split our team up. Half are heading to the new club after tonight and the rest will stay here. Bryn has just sent us a group email with the list,” he answered with a frown.
Wynter was about to ask what would be so bad about that, but deep down, she already knew. These people had stuck together for years. Looked out for each other and seen to it that they were treated as family. None of them wanted that to be torn apart.
Her heart then lurched as another thought struck her. Was Warren moving to the new site too? If so, she’d hardly get to see him, and Wynter knew that would be exactly what Marcus would want. Maybe that was why he was so standoffish in the meeting? Why he was being so cold?
“That’s terrible. Why doesn’t he just hire new IT staff?” she asked, but then shook her head. She already knew the answer. Marcus had trust issues. He would never employ a wholly new team and she knew it. “So, who’s going?”
Palmer reeled off a few names and Wynter looked around at the relevant peoples’ sour faces. They weren’t happy, which was understandable.
“Plus me and Phoebe,” he then told her, and Wynter’s stomach dropped. As much as she hadn’t wanted to hear Warren’s name on the list, the idea of losing Phoebe was also a huge blow, and she looked over at her with a sad smile. Phoebe returned the gesture and then worked her way over to Wynter so they could talk.
“When Mr Cole came down to talk to me about David’s death, he also told me about the move. I was sworn to secrecy until it became official, but I’ve been promoted to the Head of IT for the new club. We’ll only need a small team there and I’ll report directly to Warren so will be here for meetings and stuff,” she then told her, and while happy to hear about the promotion and how she’d continue to see her new friend, Wynter was still sad about the news overall.
“Silver linings and all that,” she groaned and Phoebe nodded solemnly.
The door to the huge office then opened and slammed closed, and each of them turned to see Warren as he came storming towards them, clearly having been the one who had burst through it. He didn’t say a word to any of them. He just charged straight for his small office and shut himself inside. Wynter went to go over to him, but Phoebe stopped her with a gentle hand on her arm.
“Give him a minute,” she told her, “if we’ve all learned something since working with that guy it’s not to go barging in when he’s in a shitty mood.”
“I’ve a feeling his mood isn’t going to improve by me being here,” Wynter confided in her with a frown as she watched Warren pace up and down in his small space. “He seemed distant upstairs. More so than if he was trying to just playing it cool. Have I done something else to upset him?”
“Mr Cole did speak to him last night,” Phoebe answered, and she followed Wynter’s gaze to where her boss continued to pace like a caged animal. “He told me before how he’d been warned to stay away from you. Do you think something more was said?”
“I guess I’d best find out,” Wynter replied with a shrug. She couldn’t wait any longer. She had to know what was eating Warren and so walked over to his door and crept inside without so much as knocking.
He turned to her like he was about to rip her head off, but then stopped when he realised it was Wynter there and not one of his usual engineers. Warren just stared at her and then stormed over to his chair and flopped into it with a huff.
“So, how was it?” he demanded as she took a seat opposite him and Wynter frowned.
“How was what?”
“He built you a bedroom, Wynter. A fucking bedroom! Told us all how you were taking so long to get ready because he’d spent the day in your bed with you and the time had run over. I know you said he touches you, but I didn’t realise things between the two of you had progressed to him spending the entire day in bed with you.”
Oh, so that was why everyone had been looking at her like that. Wynter wanted to scream at Warren for being such a gullible idiot. She wanted to curse him and call him a child. But instead, she calmly straightened in her seat and took a deep breath before leaning closer and placing her hands on the desk between them.
“Firstly, he built me a glorified prison cell,” she informed him, flexing her fingers in a bid to stifle the rage still bubbling within her. “And secondly, he always spends the day with me. That’s nothing new. However, nothing happened between us. Not like that anyway.”
“Then like what?” Warren asked desperately, and she was pleased to see him calming down at last.
“Marcus is evil, Warren. He taunts me. Plays horrible games and watches as I fail with the biggest smile on his goddamn face. Whenever he touches me it isn’t to be kind or sensual. It’s purely to get what he wants from me.”
“I warned you,” he replied, but there was no victory in it and Wynter could tell. “Why would he build you a cell?”
“Because I
keep defying his orders and he doesn’t like it,” Wynter told him honestly, “he said he’s going to lock me away whenever he pleases and that it’s for my own safety.”
“As if that makes it okay,” Warren answered, and she was glad he seemed to be on the same page. Wynter nodded. “And he really stays with you all day when you’re working overtime?”
“Yeah, bar when I’m sleeping. Although sometimes he does stay even then,” she answered uncomfortably, but she knew she had to be honest. “Why?”
“I just know he never does that with Jack,” Warren answered with a puzzled look on his rugged face. “He told me once how Mr Cole feeds and then sends him down to his office until he’s ready for more. Apparently he only feeds about twice or three times a day.”
Wynter gulped. How on Earth could the others have it so easy? Was it the same with Joanna too? Surely not. Maybe just with the male managers.
“And what about the others?” she croaked.
“Patrick is obviously a different set up, but I think it’s the same for Joanna. I always heard Marcus has meetings during the day so they never stayed upstairs with him. I might be wrong though,” Warren said, and he seemed to be growing further concerned the more they spoke. Like her, he was realising there was indeed a big difference to how Marcus treated her when compared to them.
“Shit,” she whispered, looking around out the windows at the rest of the team. They were going about their business and not watching them, but still Wynter was anxious. “Do you think he really is different with me?”
“Seems so,” he replied, leaning towards her and taking her hand in his. “Which explains why he tried to turn me off you last night. I think he’s jealous.”
Wynter wanted to laugh. She couldn’t fathom how Marcus could possibly be jealous when all he had to do was take what he wanted and neither of them could do a thing about it, but at the same time, it made sense. He had been acting out a lot and been erratic too. Far from how he’d come across during their initial meeting.
“What did he say?”
“He told me about David,” Warren replied, and Wynter sat back in her chair as an icy chill swept down her spine.
“Did he tell Phoebe?” she demanded and Warren shook his head no.
“And I won’t either. It isn’t fair on her,” he said, but then he looked away, as if he couldn’t quite hold Wynter’s gaze.
“Hang on,” she asked, “what exactly did he tell you?”
“We all knew David fancied you, Wynter. It makes sense that he would’ve pursued you and maybe not have been able to handle the rejection. Did he really commit suicide after you turned him down?”
The very insinuation made Wynter so angry she wanted to scream, but instead she reacted by bursting out laughing. It was the crazy kind of laughter that was more shock than amusement, and yet she couldn’t stop herself. Not until she put her head in her hands and let her tears come instead. How dare Marcus concoct such a vile lie? She was livid!
“David never went near those stairs, Warren,” she told him when she’d calmed down enough to answer. “But I guess it was the best explanation for his so very many injuries.”
Warren paled and put his hand over his mouth.
“What injuries?” he asked incredulously.
Wynter shook her head, trying to fight the barrage of images flooding back to her. Especially the memory of David’s body flying up and down against the ceiling and then the floor, and the ceiling again. It wouldn’t leave her, and she thought it might never.
“Have you ever seen someone die?” she asked Warren, who shook his head no, “it isn’t quick, like in the movies. They don’t accept their fate and get on with it. Death is more like a drawn out, obstinate thing. Something that you have to commit to forcing upon its intended. The victim makes awful sounds as the pain wracks through them, and it seems to take forever before they’re silent and it’s over. I never, ever want to see that happen again.”
“Marcus did it?” Warren asked, his face now thunderous.
“No,” Wynter told him honestly, “David was indeed infatuated with me and he tried to force himself on me, but she saved me. The Priestess killed him to protect me.”
“Who?”
Wynter frowned and went to laugh, but then realised he was being serious.
“The Priestess?” she repeated with a wide-eyed look. “You know, red cloak. Deep, weird voice… Marcus’s number one loyal crone and all-round badass powerful witch?”
Warren continued to look at her blankly and Wynter shook her head. This couldn’t be happening. She was sure he had to know her. He just had to. “Seriously. If you’re messing with me I’m going to flip my shit,” she told him, but he remained at a loss for words. He clearly had no idea who the Priestess was, and genuinely so.
“I’m sorry,” he replied with a shrug, “I’ve never seen anyone like that around here, or heard anyone speak of her before. That doesn’t mean anything though. Maybe Mr Cole only lets you and the other managers see her?” It made sense, Wynter guessed, and she nodded.
“I hope so,” she then told him, “because it’s either that or I’m going mad.”
Eleven
Marcus summoned his Priestess to his office and got a delightful surprise when she appeared to him as Marcella and not in her usual robes.
“My lady,” he greeted her with a gentle bow, “how lovely to see you.”
“My lord, the feeling is mutual, as always.” She stepped closer and hovered for a moment before deciding on having a seat opposite him at the desk.
“How are things going?” Marcus asked her, and he was pleased to see that Marcella knew exactly what he was getting at without him having to outright say it.
“Wynter is indeed an enigma,” the witch replied with a fond smile. Marcus didn’t know why, but that small smile irked him. Marcella wasn’t allowed to care for anyone but him. Like with all his slaves, he was their number one priority, and he wanted to be sure that the same rules would apply to his Priestess as well.
“You care for her,” he said. It was a statement rather than a question, and Marcella offered him the slightest nod of her head in agreement.
“But my love is reserved solely for you, my lord,” she appeased him, and Marcus immediately calmed. He could sense she was telling the truth and smiled, his eyes flicking down to her stomach and back again.
“And your child,” he reminded her. Marcella beamed and nodded.
“Indeed,” she replied, instinctively placing a hand over her womb. The baby was still nothing more than an embryo, and yet, Marcus could tell she was going to be a strong witch and a powerful ally in his never-ending crusade for power. Like her mother. And like Marcella, he would treasure and guide the child as if she were his own.
“Have you seen anything more of her future?” he then asked, his mind going back to Wynter and the prophecy Marcella had previously told him.
“I still see her running into the arms of another,” she replied with a frown. She then settled back in the seat and stared off into the distance wistfully. “But I cannot see whom. I have made steps with Warren to ensure he stays away from her, but I can only assume it either isn’t enough, or that it could possibly not be him.”
“But who else?” he enquired and Marcella shrugged. There was no one who Wynter cared for as much as the boy, Marcus had been forced to admit that much, and he had also used her attraction to his advantage to make her stay with him. The feelings between the two were mutual, and yet even Marcus could see they were in no rush to fall in love and plan their escape.
Her curse was lifted and he could see such a difference now between Wynter and the other members of his team. They all adored him, even if they also had undercurrents of loathing or fear, and Marcus liked it that way, however with her it was all just one big show. But the façade was not for him. No, the pretence was for the others. She was already an outsider because of the special attention Marcus gave her, but if the rest of his slaves found out she was also f
ree from his curse Wynter would undoubtedly be ousted entirely. They wouldn’t trust her. Either that, or they would envy her. They certainly wouldn’t be friendly anymore. Only civil out of courtesy. And then she’d be truly alone. Broken. Marcus smiled to himself, thinking how that might actually be kind of perfect. Something he could implement should the need arise.
“I put a spell on Warren,” Marcella told him, her voice plucking him from his reverie, “so that he doesn’t sleep with her.
“When did you do that?” he asked, and was impressed with her initiative.
“I rang down on Saturday to ask him to fix my computer. There was nothing wrong with it, of course, but I took him into my office and cast a curse on him. No matter how much he wants her, something will always get between them. Such as yourself and Phoebe when they were hiding themselves away after he’d left my office, or perhaps an idea that will pop into his head and turn him off at the last minute. They’ll never get together, my lord. Not as long as my curse still holds.”
“But that won’t stop her from wanting him, will it?”
“No,” Marcella confirmed, “and you cannot kill him or send him away without her seeing it as an offensive move. One to which she will react in kind.”
“Wynter cannot be allowed to leave me,” Marcus ground. He knew that wasn’t Marcella’s intention, but she had given him a warning. One he knew without her having to have said the words aloud.
“Then merge with her,” the Priestess implored. She then sat forward in her seat and stared into his dark gaze. “Do as your soul is telling you and take her as your own, my lord. You continue to fight your attraction to her and yet I can see it within you. I can sense your yearning.”
“Then you are mistaken, my lady,” he replied, forcing himself not to strike her or take any action that might result in hurting his darling Priestess, or her child. “What you sense is lust. Nothing more.”
Round Two Page 9
