by Ella Miles
“You locked the door.”
I nod. “Yes, I locked the door to keep you out.”
He shrugs. “That’s not how this works. You lock the door to keep yourself safe. You’ve already decided I won’t hurt you.”
He stares at me wearing a white T-shirt sitting on the couch. “The better question is, what are you doing?”
I tremble. “Pushing myself.”
“I see.” His tense eyes travel over me. “I think you’ve had enough.”
I nod.
He walks to the door and holds it open for me as I step inside. I immediately run to my corner and fall to the ground, my body shaking violently.
Enzo rubs his neck, looking frustrated. I don’t know if the look is for himself or me.
There is a knock on the door, and I freeze. What the hell? Westcott never comes up here and disturbs us if Enzo is here. Enzo always calls him if he wants him.
Enzo looks at me with a silent sorry on his lips.
I hug my legs, bite my lip, and let my hair fall to my face. I’m done with people today. I’ve pushed myself far enough, and now I’m about to shut down.
Enzo slowly undoes each of the locks, his eyes cutting to mine at the sound of each mechanism unlocking, making it easier for them to get to me. The monsters.
I close my eyes.
I’m safe.
I’m fine.
Slowly, the door opens, and Enzo slips out through the crack. I’m alone.
I consider racing to the door to slam it shut and lock out Enzo again, but as much as I want to declare my independence from him, as much as I want to run away, I can’t. I’m not strong enough to survive on my own, not yet.
And I need Enzo to sleep next to me in order to rest myself. Especially tonight after getting myself so worked up. I need the edges of his muscles to focus on, his rippled chest, his gruff face covered in dark shadows. I need to hear his soft snores rocking me to sleep. I need him.
The bastard. Maybe this was his plan all along. To get me to rely on him. So I could never leave. He wouldn’t need a cage or guard to keep me trapped. I would do it myself.
I need to form a plan to stop relying on him, but right now I just want to sleep.
The door creaks open, and Enzo returns. He considers for a second and then walks over to me. He kneels down in front of me like I’m a child.
He bites his lip before he speaks. “Can you do me a favor?”
“No.”
He smirks. “Then do yourself a favor. Let’s go to the bathroom.”
I raise an eyebrow. “Got a new fetish? Like watching me pee or something?”
He laughs. “No, just trust me. I need to change before we try to sleep.”
“And you need me for that?’
“Yes,” he sighs.
I stare at the door. He’s hiding something from me behind it. But whatever it is, I don’t want to be in here alone when it arrives.
So I stand and walk awkwardly to the bathroom.
Enzo shuts the door and locks it, something he never does. I stand silently as Enzo begins removing his jacket and tie.
“How was the car ride with Langston? Did he drive as cautiously as I told him to?”
Why is he asking about Langston? We seldom talk about normal things.
“It was fine. Yes, he drove like a grandma.” Even though it didn’t help me trust him or feel safe.
“Good. Has his eye started turning black and blue yet from my punch?”
“No, it was just swollen and red.”
“Damn, I didn’t hit him hard enough then,” he smirks, a hint of a dimple on his cheek showing.
I open my mouth to thank him again for preventing his touch, but then I remember he told me to stop thanking him, so I don’t.
Enzo kicks out of his shoes, leaving them a mess on the floor. It isn’t like Enzo. He’s organized and controlled. He usually hangs or folds his clothes when he’s done with them. Even the dirty ones are folded in a pile for Westcott to collect.
“What’s going on?” I ask.
He frowns. “I’m talking to you like a normal person while I get undressed.”
“Except we don’t do normal.”
He shrugs.
The bedroom door slams. I flinch.
He sighs. “We can go back to the bedroom now.” He hasn’t finished getting undressed for bed. He’s still wearing his shirt and slacks, but since it was just a distraction anyway, it doesn’t matter.
I unlock the door and open it, terrified of what I will find. The way I’m acting, you would think there would be a wild animal on the other side ready to attack me.
I open the door but don’t notice anything different about the room. The room is empty; no animal or person jumps out at me. I hesitantly enter the room, and that’s when I notice the bed.
It has a different mattress on it than before. The covers have been removed and replaced with silk, thin and light. There is no comforter or blanket on the bed. And the pillows look like rocks.
“What’s this?” I ask.
Enzo steps behind me, staring at the new bed.
“I’m fucking tired of sleeping on the floor. So I found the hardest, most uncomfortable bed I could find for us to try.”
Us.
That word is dangerous. There is no us. No we.
There is Enzo, the man whose last name fits him—Black, like his heart. My new master who will soon snap and stop treating me like his damaged queen.
And then there is me—the woman filled with secrets and shame.
There is no us.
Us would mean we have a future together. Us means he thinks of me as more than his property. Us means I forgive him. And I can never do that. No matter how kind he’s being, I can’t forget about the cruelty inside.
28
Enzo
The bed was a mistake.
Kai’s not ready to be pushed any further. She’s been pushing too hard already. She’s going to crack if she keeps going at this rate.
Six years she was hurt and beaten. It’s going to take more than a few weeks to bring her back to life after that cruelty.
It’s all my fault Kai is pushing beyond her limits.
I put her up to this when I brought her to Surrender. And now she’s going to lose any progress she’s made by going too far.
The bed sounded like a good idea in my head, when I was driving back. I called and ordered the firmest bed on the market to be delivered upon my arrival back home. Normally, the mattress company doesn’t deliver so quickly, but when you have money as I do, the impossible easily becomes possible. I only wish my problems with Kai were as easily fixable.
Langston and Zeke are out meeting with a new gentleman in town who wants to acquire a yacht. I would usually meet with a new client, as this man is willing to pay big bucks for what he wants. I intended to meet with them after delivering the mattress for Kai to try. But seeing her now, I know I can’t leave her.
Even though I should.
I feel unsettled no matter what I do, stay or leave.
Fuck.
I don’t know what to do. Not when it comes to Kai. I want to help her, but it’s as much about helping her as helping myself get rid of her.
I try to stare at the bed, instead of her. I can’t believe she’s wearing clothes now; even if it’s just a T-shirt, it’s more than I’ve seen her in since she arrived.
I should let the issue of the bed go, and continue to sleep on the cot I’ve made on the floor. But my back is killing me, and I’m more irritable than usual after our outing at the club. I doubt I’ll be able to sleep, but if Kai sleeps, it will be worth it. She needs as much sleep as possible to continue to heal.
I walk closer to her, careful not to get too close and accidentally brush against her. I inhale her scent, knowing this is the best I will get tonight, or ever. But her scent will stay with me in my dreams.
Kai usually smells of the wildflower shampoo she uses. But tonight she smells different. She smells of lu
st, desire, and sex.
My eyes widen, and my heart races. Did someone touch her? Rape her? No, I would have known.
“Show me your hands, Kai.”
She turns with concern on her face. “What? Why?”
“Just do it.” I give her a warning look.
She hesitantly holds up her hands.
I lean down, lowering my head to her hands stopping just above them. I inhale deeply. Her fingers are laced with the same scent that hung in the air before.
I straighten, studying her face. She blushes and bites her lip nervously.
I cock my head, realizing what happened. She pushed herself even further than I realized. She pleasured herself, but from the anxious look on her face, it didn’t appear to go successfully.
I suck in a breath. I could fix her problem so easily. Make her come with a few strokes of my fingers. Give her undo pleasure. But that would require her to be touched. Tolerate a bed.
“Didn’t go successful, did it?” I ask, raising an eyebrow at her hands.
Her blush deepens. “No.”
I’m surprised by her honesty. We both know what I’m talking about.
I stare at the bed and then back to her. I don’t know what’s gotten into me. My own sexual frustration has heightened. And I’m afraid what I’m about to do will make it worse.
But I know how healing it could be for her, how freeing to let go of one tiny bit of her own frustration.
“Get on the bed, Kai.”
She blinks and swallows slowly. “What if I can’t?”
“I’m not asking you to sleep. Just lie down on the bed.”
“I’m not sure—”
“You can. It’s not an option; it’s an order. Get on the bed.”
Kai slowly walks over. She takes her time climbing up, her legs moving awkwardly. And then she lies down flat on her back. Her breathing speeds as I walk over, her body trembling slightly.
I have an uphill battle if I’m going to have any success with my plan. I don’t even know if it can be done, but if anyone can do it, I can.
I smirk, I’m a cocky son of a bitch.
Kai must see something on my face. Something that makes her say, “I trust you.”
Those words crush me. Because I haven’t earned her trust. Not ever.
“Good, because I’m going to give you back something that never should have been taken.”
29
Kai
I trust you.
I don’t know why I said those words.
Trust.
I don’t trust Enzo.
But it seemed those were the words he needed to hear to carry out his plan. And it seemed I would be rewarded if I let him get his way.
So despite every bone in my body begging me to run, I stay. I lay on the cool bedsheets face up. I expected to hate and curse the bed the second I laid down on it—but I don’t hate it.
The bed is firm. The sheets feel brisk, my skin adapting to the temperature easily. And the pillow is supportive under my head and neck, not soft and mushy.
I’m not sure what Enzo has planned as I lay face up on the bed, but I’m tired of living in fear. Today, I will claim something back. Something bigger than wearing clothes or stepping out into the sunlight. But what?
“Turn off that brain of yours,” Enzo says.
“I can’t.”
He sighs. “What was the last good memory you have?”
That’s too invasive of a question. My last good memory should be the time Mason and I played hooky from school and spent the whole day at the beach getting sunburned and drinking vodka. That day should have been the day I got my first kiss.
Or maybe it should have been a memory with my father. Sharing a simple meal I cooked, and not worrying about bills and payments, before watching Jeopardy together on the TV.
Neither were my best memories.
“Kai? It doesn’t matter what it is; I just need you to think of a positive memory. Something that will help you relax.”
My one good memory bubbles up; it’s the one I’ve played in my head every day for years. The memory that saved me from death. The one I could use to escape when my body couldn’t.
“You kissing me.”
He shakes his head. “Not your happiest memory with me. Your happiest memory ever.”
I swallow, hating myself for the words I’m going to say, because I’ll be giving him a lot. But I say the words anyway. “You kissing me was my best memory.”
He gasps. His eyes latch onto mine, and I swear I see moisture in his eyes. It’s sad that my only good memory is my first kiss with a man who moments later tried to kill me—who succeeded in selling me. But there it is. My life is too tragic to be true.
He nods. “Okay, that’s good. It will make this easier.”
This. What’s this? What are you doing, Black?
“We are back on the water.”
I tense—fucking ocean.
He notices and changes the narrative. “We are here, in bed. In the only place you feel safe. The door is locked. No one can get in.”
“The ladder?”
“It’s gone. No one can use it to get to you.”
I nod.
“Close your eyes.”
I do.
He pulls the curtains tight, blocking out the last strips of light poking through. I feel the darkness descend around me before he walks back to the edge of the bed, standing over me, but not touching.
I open my eyes when he nears.
“Tell me what you remember of our kiss,” he says, his voice thick with desire.
“I remember how unexpectedly good it was. How powerful I felt even though you were in control. I could push back against you. I remember the collision of our lips. How good it felt to enjoy the scolding hot for once. How your lips made me surrender to you, no matter how much disdain I felt for you. In that moment, I wanted you. I would have given you everything. Trusted you with my body. Let you take my innocence.”
“I should have,” his voice is pained. “I should have taken your innocence. Then, Jarod wouldn’t have. You would have at least had that.”
My lip trembles. Would it have been better? Would I be as broken as I am now if Enzo would have taken my virginity?
Yes, it would have been better. Even if he sold me afterward, it would have been better.
“Take off your shirt,” Enzo says.
I hesitate but give in. I don’t care that he can ogle my body. He’s done it a million times before. But for some reason after telling him one of my most intimate of memories, it’s harder to strip naked in front of him.
I pull the T-shirt over my head and hand it to him; he sniffs the shirt slowly then tosses it on the floor.
Enzo starts undressing—pants, buttoned-down shirt, and underwear.
I should be freaking the hell out. Alarm bells should be going off, warning me of what a naked man with a predatory gaze wants with me. To fuck.
Something I imagined a million times, but can’t let happen. I can’t touch myself; he would ruin me if he tried to fuck me.
He smirks, noticing my reaction. “It’s a good thing I can’t touch you. Otherwise, I’d have you tied up, and bent over this bed, while I sink my cock into you with no apologies at how tight the fit would be in your petite body.”
I nibble on my bottom lip. “If you aren’t going to touch me, what are you going to do?”
His eyes brighten, a wicked grin spreads across his scruffy face, and I know without him saying what he plans.
“Make you come, of course.”
“But how? If you can’t touch me? I’m not ready.”
“Because the only way you won’t be truly terrified of life anymore is to experience some pleasure.”
“Giving me my freedom would make me happy.”
“No, it wouldn’t. Stop lying to yourself.”
I glare. “How would coming make me happy?”
He freezes. “You don’t remember, do you? I know your last few memories hav
e destroyed you, but you don’t remember before?”
I suck in a breath giving him a silent answer.
“Don’t you remember when you’d lie in your bed at night with a boy you thought you could love in your head? One who would smile at you in the hallways at school, hold your hand innocently. One whose crotch you’d stare at enough times to get the general sense of how big he was beneath his jeans. With that image in your head, you’d let your hand trace circles all over your body, priming yourself for what comes next. You’d let your breathing get heavy, and your head floats away in the clouds, imagining that one special boy was the one gently and carefully removing the clothes from your body like he was unwrapping the most precious gift.
“Then as your hand slipped between your panties, you’d pretend it was him. His fingers finding your clit and knowing how to rub to make your juices spill from between your lips. Maybe you’d imagine he’d go down on you, putting his head between your legs, his tongue taking the place of his fingers. You’d writhe beneath your fingers as you circled that beautiful pink clit of yours faster and faster. Building yourself up to images of him. You’d take your time because you wanted to drag out the feeling. You wanted the dream to be real, and yet you didn’t because you were afraid reality with a boy wouldn’t be as good as you could experience on your own. You’d be right; boys your age wouldn’t be able to find your clit, let alone know what to do with it. And then you’d come. That tiny explosion would start at your core and then grow as it trickled outward to the tips of your fingertips and toes. Don’t you remember, Kai?”
My breath is caught in my throat. “No, I don’t remember.” I want to, desperately. I want to own my body again. I want to be able to touch or have control over my emotions and feelings. But I can’t.
His face drops. “Then let me help you.”
Enzo rounds the bed; my eyes follow him as he climbs up on the bed next to me and lies down. I stare at his naked body with muscles so defined he looks like he competes in wrestling matches. His body isn’t flawless. It’s marked with scars, but no tattoos that I can see. I don’t let my eyes drift down to his cock. I keep my eyes up, like if I don’t stare at his cock, I’ll be saved. From what I don’t know.
