by Dori Lavelle
I don’t know what causes me to face him, but I do. Shadows from the past darken his features. “Who would do something like that to a child?” I blink away warm tears.
“I should have fought harder against him.” He looks away in shame. “But he was a man who always got what he wanted.”
“You speak of him in past tense.”
“That’s because he’s dead.”
“What happened to his broth . . . businesses?” The word brothel feels slimy and rotten on my tongue.
He took a deep, unsteady breath. “My brother and I . . . we inherited them.”
I narrow my eyes. “You never mentioned having a brother.”
He rakes a hand through his hair. “I don’t. Not anymore.”
“Sorry,” I murmur as his earlier words sink in. “So, that’s how you make your money? Prostitution?”
“Not for a long while. A year after my stepfather died, I walked out and went to college. I changed my surname from Damien Devereux to Damien Steel and kept my reputation clean.”
“What happened? Where did you find the courage to pull away?”
“A woman happened. Kristi.” He touches a lock of my hair, wrapping it around a forefinger. “Her hair was the same shade of red as yours.”
The name Kristi brings back memories of the wedding dress I found in the closet days ago. “You married her?”
“I fooled myself into thinking I could have a normal life, a healthy marriage.”
“What happened?” The words have a hard time moving through my throat. I’m not sure I want to hear the answer.
He removes his hand from my hair. “We were happy for a year. Then she became pregnant. She lost the baby. The pain of loss changed her. I did everything to hold the pieces of our marriage together.” He gives a sad chuckle. “I was foolish. Even when she told me she no longer loved me, I refused to let her go. She stayed but had an affair, which I forgave her for. I tried to make it work. But . . .” He gives a low laugh. “In the end, she left me anyway. She died.”
I wait for a few heartbeats before asking the next hard question. “You killed her?” The words are thick on my tongue.
He jerks at my question but recovers in a heartbeat. “No. She took her own life.”
“Oh, Damien, I’m so sorry.” Why the hell is my heart breaking for the man who had stolen me and kept me captive?
He places a hand on my cheek. “No, I’m sorry. For everything.” He pauses. “When Kristi died, I refused to accept it. I was in therapy for a long time. I never thought I’d fall in love again. Until you. You made me feel again. You gave me my life back, Ivy. I couldn’t—I couldn’t let you die.”
Silence falls between us but it’s disturbed by the doorbell ringing to signal our lunch has arrived.
During our meal of green salad, fried chicken, and vegetables, I bring up more questions about Damien’s life, his wife, even Jennifer, but I find the door closed. He no longer wants to talk about the past, insisting we should focus on the future.
“I love you, Ivy. My heart aches knowing you don’t feel the same for me. I want you to be here with me, to be my future. But I finally get that keeping you here will not make you mine.” He takes a swig of wine. “Loving you drove me to insanity. It took me back to the man my stepfather wanted me to be, the man I fought so hard to leave behind. I admit I went too far.”
“What are you saying?” I stop chewing and push away my plate.
“I’m setting you free, Rosebud.”
“And you expect me to believe that?” A sarcastic smile curls the corners of my lips. “If I leave right this minute, you won’t stop me?”
“I will stop you.” His gaze holds mine as he dabs his lips with a napkin. “But only because I want you to recover completely first. Once you’re strong enough, I’ll give you back your freedom.”
I cross my arms and lean forward. “What if I walk out of here and call the cops on you?”
“After what I put you through, it would surprise me if you don’t. Whatever you decide, I’m prepared to face the consequences of my actions.”
“You’re willing to go to prison?”
“If that’s what you want.” His tone is strong and determined.
“How do I know you’re not playing a game with me? Maybe you want me to walk into some kind of trap.”
He pushes his chair back a few inches and pulls his cell phone from his pocket. He hands it to me. My hands are shaking so much I almost drop it. “Call your mother or your friends to let them know you’ll be home in five days.”
Expecting him to snatch the phone away, I dial. I can barely make out the numbers through my teary eyes.
With every heartbeat I cannot believe he’s letting me go just like that. There has to be a catch, a price to pay for my freedom. But if there is, why would he allow me to reach out to the outside world?
Damien rises and goes to stand at the window. I dial with the corner of my eye fixed on him, a solid knot of anxiety heavy in the pit of my stomach.
My mother’s number is still disconnected and Chelsea won’t answer her phone. When prompted to leave a message, I hang up instead. How can I explain in a few words that the friend she thought to be dead is alive?
I wrestle with whether to call the police but when I look at a Damien, I can no longer see the threat that had loomed over me during my time in captivity.
“Couldn’t reach anyone?” he asks, walking back to the table.
I nod and hand him back the phone.
“Feel free to try again any time.”
“Why are you really doing this?” I ask softly.
“Because I love you, and I’m disgusted by the man I was close to becoming.”
When night falls, Damien climbs into bed with me and draws me close to his body, holding me so tight I almost can’t breathe. I lie in his arms, my face tucked into the crook of his shoulder, shocked that the man who had once terrified me now makes me feel safe.
Before I fall asleep I ask him a question that has been troubling me since my attempted escape.
“Did you know that the wedding band you gave me is fake?”
He’s silent for a long time and I almost fear he won’t answer, or worse he will return to his evil self. But when he speaks, his voice is gentle in the night. “It belonged to Kristi. We bought it from a beach vendor during a holiday in Hawaii. It was a souvenir at first but when we got married, she said I didn’t need to buy her an expensive ring to prove my love.” He exhales. “I’m sorry, it was cruel of me to give you the ring that belonged to my first wife.”
I don’t say anything more. Instead, I shut my eyes and force myself to sleep. Behind my eyelids, I see the shadowed face of the woman who came before me.
57
The shower of hot water hits my head and shoulders and sluices along the curves of my naked body. I slather more shampoo into my hair and glide my fingers through. A movement at the door halts me. I turn my back to the shower and blink away remnant water from my eyes. The shower behind me continues to rinse the shampoo from my red locks.
The bathroom door opens and Damien appears in the doorway. I swallow hard and switch off the water. “What . . . how did you? I locked the door.” Even though he has already seen me naked many times I debate whether I should cover myself. Being vulnerable around him sucks.
“I know,” He doesn’t break eye contact as he strides to the shower, his eyes a stormy sea. “There’s a way to open it from outside—in case of an emergency.” His gaze travels the length of my naked body from my breasts downward.
On instinct, I cover my breasts. My brain tells me to walk past him, to grab a towel or a robe, to cover myself up but my body refuses to move as I search his broken eyes.
“What are you doing here?” Conflicting emotions tighten my throat.
I haven’t seen Damien since early this morning, when he announced that he’ll be setting me free tomorrow.
I still find it hard to believe he’s willing to let me go afte
r everything he did to keep me in his life. Since he no longer locks the doors and gate, leaving me to roam around his mansion freely, I could have walked out and left him during the last few days. But I wanted to be strong enough to fight, in case he decides to change his mind at the last second.
To safeguard my escape, however, I have managed to get in touch with Chelsea, who was understandably stunned to hear from me from beyond the grave. Damien didn’t stop me when I proceeded to tell her where I was and that I will be back in the US in a few days. I didn’t tell her the whole story of what had happened to me, but instructed her to call the cops and tell them where I am should I not arrive back in the US within a week.
“You’re leaving tomorrow. I needed to see you again.” His gaze touches every inch of my skin.
“Damien . . .” I slide my bottom lip between my teeth.
“I wanted to see you naked for the last time.” He reaches out and wipes a small mountain of soap from my shoulder. “This is hard for me, you know. The idea of never seeing you again drives me mad.”
I shake my head as tears prickle my eyes. “You promised to let me go. You can’t keep me here.”
“No, I can’t and I’ll keep my promise.” He guides me back into the shower and turns the water back on. He’s still fully clothed, getting soaked. “But I can touch you one last time . . . if you’ll let me.” He turns me around and proceeds to wash my hair, the tips of his fingers sending tingles across my scalp.
“We don’t have to do anything you don’t want.” He presses his body against me, eliciting a gasp from me as his erection presses against my butt. “If you don’t want to feel me inside you for the last time, walk out now before I lose my control and take you anyway.”
I look up at him and water enters my eyes, mixing with my tears. “I—I shouldn’t . . .” The words get stuck in my throat. My mind is racing. He hasn’t touched me sexually since before I escaped. What message will I give him if I let him make love to me now that the chains are broken? What message will I give myself?
Damien turns me around again, smooths a hand down the side of my body, and slips it to the front, where he slides it between my legs. My knees buckle. His hands hold me tight against him to keep me from falling.
“I may have been a monster a few weeks ago, Rosebud.” His stubble pricks my earlobe as he whispers into my ear. ”But when we made love, everything you felt—I felt. My body was as much a prisoner to yours as yours was to mine.”
“I was thinking.” The fabric of his drenched clothes rustles as he shifts behind me and pushes a finger into me. “Let’s erase the unpleasant memories by creating good ones.” His finger dips in and out of me with each word.
My temperature rises and my body involuntarily presses harder against him, making the decisions my mind is incapable of making in the heat of the moment. My breath catches in my throat as my hands encircle his wrist, but don’t push him away. “I . . . oh . . .”
“I know I was an asshole. I hurt you in many different ways. Please allow me to heal the wounds I inflicted. Give me permission to fuck you again, one last time.” He pinches my clit.
I turn to face him. My erect nipples rub against his shirt, now see-through, putting his chiseled chest on display.
He has taken a lot from me. I need what he owes me. My mind thinks I’m a fool for letting him drug me with his sexual charm, but my body disagrees. My lips meet his in a hungry kiss. As much as our heated kisses feel wrong, they’re also exhilarating. As I bury my hands into his hair, I do my best not to think. We’re like sexually frustrated people, our arms flailing around, grabbing skin and muscle, and hair—tearing at clothes.
The sound of rushing water merges with our sighs and groans.
Without either of us saying anymore, he turns off the water and takes me by the hand. Together we step out of the shower but don’t leave the bathroom. He pulls out the drawer beneath the bathroom basin and removes a condom. He doesn’t break eye contact with me the whole time he unzips his jeans and allows them to crumple at his feet, like clothes left out in the rain. A shiver ripples down my spine when he slides on the condom then pulls me to him.
He pushes me against the steamy bathroom wall, lifts my leg as far as it will go and, while my senses still cloud my better judgment, he fucks me.
Filled with him and no boundaries of fear between us, I remember. Every nerve inside my body remembers the first time we made love, the electricity, the desire. But in this moment I also forget. I forget the pain that followed.
Damien sits up in bed, rousing me awake. As I open my eyes I feel drunk or drugged or both. The memory of our epic goodbye sex still flickers in my veins.
“What is it? You okay?” I sit up as well and lean against the headboard, the sheets sliding past my naked breasts to rest on my lap.
“I thought I heard something, but I’m mistaken.” He lifts my hand to his lips and kisses my palm “I’ll get myself a drink. You go back to sleep.”
“Okay.” I slide back under the covers. With the help of the moonlight, I watch him slide into a pair of pajama bottoms and disappear through the door. As I listen to his footsteps padding down the stairs and think of how he had taken me, my core unfurls with desire all over again.
Tears prick the back of my eyes. I want to leave him and this place but it’s going to be harder than I thought. As much pain as Damien has caused me, he has also made my body vibrate with life. He has completely turned me inside out. He’s letting me go tomorrow but how will I ever be able to move from this? How will I ever forget?
A distant shuffle comes from downstairs as Damien prepares himself a drink. I close my eyes and wait for him to bring it up with him but it takes a while. He must have decided to finish it downstairs. But I’m wide awake, my mind overwhelmed by thoughts of him.
I hear his footsteps on the stairs fifteen minutes later. Through the veil of semi-darkness I watch his silhouette fill the doorway. A few heartbeats pass with him just standing there, watching me lying on the bed.
A shiver of panic rushes through me. Now that we’ve slept together again, is he having doubts about letting me go?
“Are you coming back to bed?” I ask, biting my bottom lip to harness my desires and fears.
He doesn’t speak as he moves forward and slides back into the warm space beside me. Instead of the pajama bottoms, he’s now wearing boxer shorts. He must have made a stop in the laundry room downstairs.
“Let me fuck you again.” His whiskey-laced whisper is deep in my ears.
I smile, the embers of desire flaring to full-blown flames inside my body. “You’re just insatiable, aren’t you?” The same can be said about me.
Instead of answering, he turns me to face the other way. I oblige. He kisses the back of my neck and with his fingers traces a path from my chin to my breasts. I gasp as he pinches one of my nipples. His palm glides past my belly and rests at my vagina. He gives my clit the same pinching treatment he had given my nipples.
“Ouch,” I say even though my pain is laced with pleasure.
He chuckles into my ear and cups my vagina, shifting me toward him, ready to penetrate. “Come here.” His whisper is hot on my ear.
“Aren’t you forgetting something?” Instead of pushing my butt out so he can ease himself into me, I move away a fraction and slide open the bedside drawer on my side. I pick up the last condom and turn to him. His breath is now hot on my face. Neither of us speaks as I reach into his boxer shorts—since he won’t let me remove them—and find a way to slide the condom onto his shaft with the help of the moonlight. As soon as he’s fully covered, Damien doesn’t waste time turning me to face the other way again and slamming into me before I take my next breath. He digs deep this time, his movements rough and hurried. I grip the edge of the bed and close my eyes, enjoying every second but also hating myself for not being able to resist him.
His hand grips the back of my neck and squeezes. He moves faster. “You like that, don’t you, bitch?” I flinch at
the bite in his voice.
“What are you doing? You’re hurting me.” I attempt to pull away, surprised by his sudden roughness and harsh words. Panic rises in my chest. He lied. He has no intention of letting me go anywhere. Tears drop from my eyes as he moves his hand from my neck and clamps my mouth shut while still mercilessly plowing into me.
“Just giving you what you want, dirty slut.”
“Get off her, you son of a bitch.” A voice cuts through my gut-wrenching sobs. And in a matter of seconds there’s a pop as Damien’s dick exits my vagina and his sweaty body unpeels from mine. By the time I turn to see what’s happening, he is no longer on the bed but on the floor. The sounds of pounding fists and groans of pain fill the room.
What’s going on? Has Adrian returned to rescue me? Damien had mentioned that Adrian hasn’t been around since he’s no longer needed to watch over me. He’s instead stationed at the Steel Enterprises office building here in San Maureo, working as a night security guard.
When a gunshot rings out, I flick on the night light and jump out of bed, grabbing my black negligée and matching panties from the floor. While struggling to get dressed, I whip around to see the scene unfolding like an action movie scene on the other side of the bed.
One of the men, wearing pajama bottoms, is flat on his back, defeated and in pain from the gunshot wound in his upper arm. The other, wearing the boxer shorts, is facing me with a twisted grin and a handgun aimed at me.
Ice spreads through my stomach as my gaze moves between the faces of the two men before returning to that of the naked man about to shoot me.
“Hello, ma chérie. I’ve waited so long to see you again. Such a shame that our fuck session was cut short. We’ll have to finish up later.” He dips his head to the side. “I have to say you have disappointed me, Ivy. I went through shit to escape from prison. To get to you.” He sucks in air through his teeth. “But you ran off with my twin brother. I had such good plans for us.”
