I had just hit the third stair when his hand closed around my ankle. I fell forward, grunting as my stomach made impact with stairs, and my teeth bit into my tongue.
"Where the fuck did you think you were going to go?" He flipped me around, so I was facing him. Red filled my vision. I spit the blood at him that had filled my mouth, kicking out at the same time. My foot connected with his stomach, causing his grip to loosen.
"Get away from me!" I spun back around and hauled ass up the stairs.
"Willow!" His yell sent fear coursing through me. For the first time since meeting him, I was scared. He caught me in the hall, sending us both crashing into the wall.
"You ran from me, kicked me, and just spit on me. What do you think happens now?" His voice was dangerously calm. When I didn't answer, he dragged me away from the wall towards his room.
"If you would have stuck around, you would have heard the best part. How your father, and I use that term loosely, killed your sister. My fiancée. Did you know she was pregnant?"
Now that we were in his room, he shoved me away from him and slammed the bedroom door shut, blocking my only exit unless I totally lost it and through myself over the balcony. He wasn’t worth my life, though. No man was.
"Why would he do that?" I didn't believe him. Why would my father hurt Cassie?
"He was her supplier. Every time I took the drugs away and got her clean, he'd give them right back. She got in debt and was too ashamed to tell me."
I knew my next words were going to be cold, but I didn't care. I wanted him to hurt as much as I did.
"So, I take it she didn’t tell you she fucked him to pay her debts?"
Keeping my voice level, I stared him down, watching what I said sink in."Why did you take me, Pierce? To make me feel bad? Make me suffer like she did?" I kept going, wishing I could reach inside his ice box of a chest and tear his heart out.
"Your sister was sick, she –"
"Stop defending her! She wasn't sick, she was a goddamn addict!" My resentment for my sister bled through each word that came from my mouth.
"Does it bother you? That I stick up for the woman I love?" He grinned at me, delighted in my fall from grace.
Love. Not loved.
"Yes, Pierce. It does bother me."
I clenched my jaw, hating this fucked up thing I called life. "It bothers me because no one stuck up for me. No cared about the girl who didn’t have a choice when that sick fuck came into her room. But let’s feel sorry for the girl that couldn’t pull her shit together and stop sticking a needle in her arm? Fuck. That. I was the one who took care of her when she came running home to get away from you!”
His grin disappeared as I screamed at him.
"You all knew. So why didn't anyone help me?" I whispered brokenly, feeling my eyes fill with tears.
"I have shit to do." He turned, opened the door, and walked out, not bothering to look back.
It hurt. Felt as if my heart was being diced up inside my chest, but what was I really expecting to come of this?
The better question. Did what I want really even matter? No, it never had. I knew better than to lead with my head instead of the unstable organ inside my chest.
Pierce Serban was a lesson.
A harsh one.
I’d built myself up too high to let anyone in this world knock me back down. and knocked me down. So, even though my emotions were being put through a meat-grinder, I would get through it.
When I was done crying, I would put myself back together and force myself to carry the fuck on. At the end of the day, that was all I could do. It’d been that same sad song since I was eleven years old.
I had no destination in mind when I left my house. I drove and drove, going nowhere. Though she had said it to hurt me, I knew she spoke the truth. That tended to happen when someone was hurt. Michelle had pledged her loyalty to me, swore she'd never betray me, and then fucked Seth Borgia behind my back.
The baby might not have even been mine. A baby I was overjoyed about having. I'd had some inkling of just who Willow was the first time I’d met her, but I’d needed to be sure. I don't know why needing to know everything about her was at the top of my to-do list. I figured out who she was the night before I brought home the pizza.
I'd made a promise to Michelle I would find a way to protect her little sister. But Richard wasn't some measly little power player; he had connections.
Leaving Willow to bask in her own misery wasn't my proudest moment, but I couldn't give her comfort.
Not when I knew what our future held.
When I got back home, it was a little past four in the morning. The house was completely dark, silent. I went upstairs to my room, pausing in the doorway.
She was sleeping.
Her face was slightly puffy from crying, and her hair was in a little bit of disarray, but she was still gorgeous to me. I lifted her up and tucked her beneath the comforter, placing a kiss on her forehead, momentarily letting my emotions get involved.
I wished I could bring her the world, instead of wreaking havoc on it. I needed her to serve a purpose, and she had no idea that this was just the beginning.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Stretching my arms above my head, I groaned and rolled onto my stomach. After lounging for I'm not sure how long, I knew it was time to face the music.
I took my time in the shower, letting the hot water ease away some of the fog. Around my head. Once my teeth and hair were brushed, I pulled on a pair of sweatpants that Pierce had bought me, and went downstairs.
He was standing with his hands in his pockets, looking out the window. There was a wall topped with electrical barbed wire between us, brick and impossible to climb.
"Drink the water, take the Aspirin. You'll feel better." He didn't turn to look at me.
My eyes landed on a glass of ice water on his table. Inching forward, I saw two little white pills beside it. He must've known I was coming down. I took them and drank the water.
"I'm going to give you two simple options, and the choice is entirely up to you." He turned from the window and faced me. His cobalt eyes masking any of his underlying emotions.
I let my silence speak for itself, urging him to go on.
"On the table is a marital agreement. Sign it, and for one year I own you, in every sense of the word.”
“We will immediately begin getting you ready and molding you into what I need." He paused and looked at me. I gawked at him.
"Marital? Why?" I didn't want to begin thinking about what he needed and what molding me would involve. We both knew this had nothing to do with love, so that meant he was planning something.
"I can't tell you that just yet. But I heavily advise against returning home to your father. If you do want to leave, there's a car waiting outside that will take you. I won't bother you again."
He sounded like a bored car salesman, not caring what I chose either way. I couldn't return home to Seth. If Pierce was telling the truth...God, if Pierce was telling the truth, my whole life was going to be in shambles
"What's the catch?" Him just letting me walk out the door was right up there with, Jesus, personally escorting me home.
"No catch, Rebel." I didn't see the little smirk on his face. I'd already turned and started heading for the door. My hands grasped the knob, and it actually began to open.
"There is one thing, however."
I froze, letting my eyes shut for a minute. I took a breath and turned around.
"You said there was no catch." I clenched my teeth and glared at him.
"It's not a catch. It's me getting rid of an insurance policy I no longer need." He reached into his pocket and retrieved a pen. "It's just a phone call, really. If you leave, your sister won't be granted the same…leniency. That bridge will have to burn. Technicalities and all that. You understand?"
"How do I know she's ok right now?" Curling my shaking hands into fist, I looked at him with nothing but hatred.
"Look." He hit a few b
uttons on his cell phone and held it up. From where I stood, I could see it was a video.
Moving away from his door, I crept closer and saw it was a live feed. Abbi sat on a bed with her head down and knees tucked to her chest. She looked fine on the outside, but who knew what she was going through on the inside. This was all my fault.
Pierce hit a button, and my sister's image faded away, the screen going black. He looked at me with no emotion whatsoever displayed on his face, other than an arrogant half smile.
"What do I need to do?" Swallowing my pride and forsaking my freedom for my sister was a no brainer. I wasn't like the men that thrived in our clandestine world. Letting someone suffer would torture me day and night. Abbi didn't deserve to be dragged into this. I hated that bad people could destroy innocent things.
"Sign our marriage contract." He held a red ball point pen out to me, knowing I would take it.
"You won't hurt her?"
"I may not be good for much, but my word is golden. Your sister will be treated like a princess. Think of Rapunzel." Fucking bastard. My emotions raged inside of me.
"Why me?"
"You’re the only one that can do this, and I promised Michelle I'd look out for her sister. It's just a year. Abigail or your signature. I don't have all day for you to decide, Rebel."
This wasn't a choice. It was coercion and blackmail at its finest. He wasn't giving me an option at all. I had no idea what I was about to get myself into, and I knew there was a massive amount of shit he wasn't telling me.
"Was this you breaking me?"
"No, Rebel. This is me starting to break you."
"Is it going to hurt worse than this?" I mumbled, more to myself than him.
"More than likely," he replied callously, holding the pen out to me.
Snatching the pen from his hand, I clicked it open and signed my name.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
He was seriously insane.
I stared at the schedule in front of me with furrowed brows. Every aspect of my life, every daily detail, was on the paper he’d placed before me.
"I've signed your ridiculous agreement. Why do I need a schedule?"
"Because I'm giving you one. You're alone most of the time and you need a way to keep busy."
Arrogant asshole.
Pierce had been colder than snow ever since I'd signed off on our marriage pact three weeks ago. The agreement was utter bullshit, and now he was trying to control how I spent every waking moment?
No.
Not happening.
The man had even penciled in watering his plants, which I was ninety percent sure were fake. I struggled to remain calm and keep my face blank.
"You know that document I signed isn't legally binding, right?" I flicked the paper across the table in his general direction.
"It's binding when it comes to you and me. I'm sure I don't need to explain why."
He gave me a pointed stare and slid the schedule back to me. I begrudgingly picked it up again. "Well, you forgot to mention what times I'm allowed to piss and if you'd like me to wipe from front to back or just drip dry," I smiled. He glared.
"And do you want me to suck your cock Sundays at four? Or do you prefer Wednesdays at six? I'm just trying to make you happy."
His anger amplified before my eyes. His handsome features darkened, and his stare turned glacial. I smiled a little bigger and leaned back, crossing my arms. With a clenched jaw, he shoved away from the table and stalked off. A minute later the front door slammed so hard the large windows vibrated.
Covering my face with my hands, my smile fell away and I sighed. Was this really what my life was going to be like for a year? I suddenly had an overwhelming desire to drown my sorrows in a bottle of Jack. There wasn't any way to describe the feeling of being trapped and pretty much helpless.
My entire life had been uprooted and turned upside down in the span of a few weeks.
The old adage ‘be careful what you wish for’ could never ring truer than now.
Pierce Serban was undeniably gorgeous, wealthy, and dangerous. Some girls dreamed of being with men like him, the head of a criminal organization.
I just wanted to go home.
His good looks didn't make up for his shitty personality, and they damn sure didn't make this situation any better.
Pierce stayed gone for forty-eight hours.
I wish I could pretend this didn't bother me, that if he dropped dead, I'd be just fine, but that wasn't the case at all. I hated the bittersweet feelings inside me that refused to go away.
He was a devious, lying, conniving asshole I couldn't seem to hate. As shitty as the situation was, it seemed to be the norm for us. He'd disappear for hours or days at a time and then come back, offering no explanation for what he’d been doing or where he’d been.
Under ordinary circumstances—or ordinary for our lifestyle—I would be the first person he told everything to, one of the only people he trusted enough to spill secrets. But this was all so far beyond ordinary, and neither of us trusted the other.
Trying to keep myself occupied, I read every magazine he had twice—even the spreads. I binge watched an entire season of Friends and stuffed my face with anything and everything that looked appealing. The next day was more of the same. I got so irate I wound up watering the plants and dusting the entire house just to stop myself from going completely insane.
That night, when Pierce still hadn't made an appearance, my mind began coming up with all sorts of disturbing scenarios.
Was he with someone else?
Was he hurt?
I wasn’t sure why I was even asking myself that. I mean I didn’t give a damn, right? Still though, it made for a restless night. His house being in the dead center of the woods didn’t do my nerves any favors. Every little noise had the hairs on the back of my neck rising. I took up sleeping in the guest bedroom because it didn't feel right being in his room without him.
Rolling onto my stomach, I looked at the digital clock on the nightstand and read the time.
It was midnight.
He had officially been gone for three days. Anger and something akin to sadness coiled inside my chest.
Every day I asked myself the same thing and could never come up with an answer.
Why did I care?
I was woken up what felt like only minutes after I'd fallen asleep by the bed dipping on the other side.
My eyes flew open in alarm. I moved so fast that I would have face-planted onto the floor if not for his arms wrapping around me.
"It's just me, Rebel." Pierce cradled me to his chest in an almost suffocating embrace. Pressed against him with my heart racing, I sharply inhaled the smell of cognac and cigar smoke.
"You're in my home. You'll always be safe with me,” he mumbled, running a hand through my hair before pulling away.
Was he drunk? I glanced over my shoulder, but the dark room prohibited me from seeing his face clearly. The bed let out a soft groan when he got back up.
The soft ruffling that followed was a telltale sign that he was removing his clothes. As my eyes adjusted to the dark, I kept my gaze trained on the back of his head, refusing to ogle the toned body I knew was hidden away beneath his expensive suits.
"What are you doing?" I asked.
"You're my wife. You sleep beside me," he replied curtly.
It was on the tip of my tongue to point out we weren't married yet and that I’d been sleeping alone for the past few nights, but all I really wanted was to go back to sleep. This wasn't anything new. No matter what we said to one another during the day, if he was home we always wound up together at night.
"Whatever," I sighed, lying back down and rolling to my side. A second later, Pierce was pressing against my back and burying his nose in the crook of my neck.
He was definitely drunk.
Pierce didn't cuddle. Not the real Pierce, anyway—the old one who had fooled me into thinking he was a decent guy for a day or two had.
"Did y
ou miss me?" he asked after an elongated moment of silence. I pretended to be asleep, willing him to do the same.
Go to bed, Pierce. You're drunk.
Truthfully, I was glad he was. Otherwise, he would know his small touches were enough to make me ache between my thighs and were setting my skin on fire. We hadn't done anything with one another since the truth came out about who he truly was, and there was no replacing him with my hand–I’d tried that already.
"One day soon, I promise...I'll tell you the truth," he mumbled. His weight slightly shifted and eventually his breathing evened out as he fell asleep.
I remained awake, staring into the dark, left to wonder what he else he was keeping from me.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
Past
It had to be below freezing.
I'd been standing outside for over an hour. I didn't even know who the fuck I was waiting for. My father woke me up at four in the morning and damn near dragged me out of the house.
He was still trying to punish me for refusing to bury my Uncle Chester.
They’d had a falling out which had resulted in two bullets being lodged in Chester's lungs.
My father spun some elaborate tale of how it happened instead of fessing up in front of the other men, but I was there. I saw the whole damn thing. My father had killed my uncle over a game of bones. The man who always preached about putting family first had no loyalty to his own. He was a hypocritical bastard.
Feeling like a drug dealer on a dead corner, I moved back towards the shuttered store behind me. A heavy gust of wind blew, kicking snow into my face, pissing me off that much more.
Who the hell did he want me to find?
"Wait for her, and don’t kill her." That was all he had said before shoving a gun in the waistband of my slacks and kicking me out of the car.
I couldn't tell him no, just like I couldn't show signs of pain from the hot oil he'd dumped down my back the night before. One of his goomahs had run to help me as soon as he was gone.
Then, she helped herself to my cock.
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