Salvaged by Love (Thalia Book 3) (The Thalia Series)

by Jennifer Bene

  Large property. Surrounded by walls. No visual possible.

  What if he had missed her leaving? What if she was back in London already?

  “This is unacceptable.” Marcus spat. He had to focus to relax his grip on his phone and force a deep breath.

  “Listen, they’re obviously on some kind of vacation. Dr. Hawkins went back to London for a week, but he returned. I updated you on that.” Another sigh from the motherfucker who wasn’t earning his pay.

  “Yeah, you told me the asshole wrecked his car and ended up in the ER. But you said the nurse at the hospital told you he was fine. That would have been a worthy update if you’d told me he fucking died!” Marcus knew he was borderline yelling, but he didn’t give a shit. This PI hadn’t been worth the investment, and his funds weren’t infinite.

  “Thalia seems very happy with him, Mr. Williams. As I’ve said before, I don’t think you or your family has anything to worry about.”

  “Did I ask for your fucking opinion?!” Marcus snapped. He turned and kicked the empty trashcan next to his desk – the resulting crash as it banged into the wall barely took the edge off his rage.

  Another sigh came over the phone and Marcus almost lost it on the guy. He was paying him, very well, to snap photos and follow Thalia around. He wasn’t allowed to fucking sigh at him. If he were in front of him, Marcus would show him who he was talking to. He’d show him exactly what he was capable of when someone didn’t uphold their end of a deal. The PI’s voice sounded exhausted, “What do you want me to do, Mr. Williams?”

  “I WANT YOU TO BRING HER BACK TO ME!” Marcus yelled so loudly he heard his own voice rebounding in his room. His harsh breathing almost masked the surprised response.

  “What?” Honest shock in the man’s voice. “I don’t do that. I’m not taking anyone against their will, and as I’ve said she’s very happy -”

  “She would be happier with me.” Marcus growled, before he remembered to add, “And our family. She doesn’t know what she wants, she’s young, and we need to keep her safe.”

  “I have only observed Dr. Hawkins treating her with care. He treats her very well, and she has never shown any signs that she’s afraid of him.” The guy was trying to be reasonable, but all his words did was bring up an image of Thalia at his feet. Wide hazel eyes looking up, her breaths shallow and fast, her fists clenched as she awaited his command.

  He needed her back.

  “Just find me someone who will bring her back then.” Marcus paced across his room, stepping over papers, and remnants of photos, and dirty clothes.

  “No.”

  “No?” Marcus felt his rage pounding in his temples. “You work for me. You don’t fucking tell me no.”

  “I’m not going to be involved in this, and as of now I don’t work for you anymore, Mr. Williams.” The guy was talking to him like he was in charge. “One last word of advice, free of charge, leave your cousin alone. She’s happy, she’s fine. Just let it go. Reach out to her and maybe she’ll come visit.”

  “You fucking -”

  “Goodbye, Mr. Williams.” Silence.

  Marcus looked down at his phone and saw that the call had ended, and then promptly threw his cell against the door. The smart phone broke. The screen shattered, spider webbing across, the case cracked.

  He didn’t give a fuck.

  His fists were clenching and unclenching as he looked around the room for something else to destroy.

  Thalia.

  Thalia’s face was everywhere. On every surface. The walls were a collage of her perfect mouth, her shoulders peeking out of dresses, the swell of her hips and ass.

  Marcus stalked over to the largest photo he had of her, his hands landing on the wall on either side of it. He’d blown it up because it was an expression he’d never seen. Her eyes were looking just left of the camera lens, focused intently on something. ‘Or someone...’ his mind reminded him. She was tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, and the barest hint of a smile was curving her lips. She was in a yellow blouse, dark jeans that hugged her thighs. She looked –

  ‘Beautiful,’ his mind filled in.

  But that wasn’t it. He knew that look, had seen it before on other women. She wanted the person she was looking at. The flush in her cheeks, the way she angled her hips toward them.

  That is what he wanted.

  He wanted Thalia to look at him like that, and in time he could make her. He could make her want him, need him, crave him. He just hadn’t had enough time. There hadn’t been enough time.

  “You’ll be mine again.” He traced the outline of her face in the photograph, trailing his fingertips over her lips, over that smile. The sense of calm that appeared with his focused intent overwhelmed him for one brief, peaceful moment.

  Then reality flooded back.

  Thalia wasn’t with him yet. She was in Scotland, on some lavish estate, with him. Just one thought of Thalia underneath James and Marcus’ rage was howling back. Shooting like fire up his spine, tightening his muscles, and making him want to destroy everything. Everyone.

  He pushed himself back from the wall of her pictures, tearing his eyes away and practically running for the door. He threw it open and stomped down the hall. Down the hall where he had taught Thalia to crawl. In a moment he was at another door, he unlocked it and kicked it open.

  Soft crying could already be heard from the girl tied to the post. She was shaking, her head hanging down so all he could see was light brown hair, almost obscuring the view of her breasts.

  “Finish your call?” Anthony asked nonchalantly. His brother was sitting in a chair off to the side, watching the girl struggle and cry. For a minute he wondered what Anthony had done in his absence. His eyes tracked back to the girl to look for obvious damage, but he couldn’t find any.

  “Yes. I did.” Marcus tried to mimic his brother’s placid calm, but he was too angry. His pulse was a machine gun behind his eyes, and his breathing wouldn’t slow.

  “Anything you’d like to share with the class?” Anthony tucked something to the side and then folded his hands like he was waiting patiently.

  “Fuck off. Why are you here?” Marcus crossed his arms, his fingers twitching at his urge to check and make sure he hadn’t touched the girl when he wasn’t there. She was his.

  “I get worried when you don’t answer my calls. Then I arrive and find this lovely little present, all tied up and packaged.” Anthony tilted his head and his eyes moved over the girl. “Since you didn’t know I was coming, I’m guessing she isn’t a welcome gift?”

  “No.” Marcus was fighting to control his temper.

  “Pity.” Anthony turned his dead eyes back to him, “Willing to share? It’s been a while.”

  “Find your own.”

  Anthony did his imitation of a laugh, which had never sounded right. Not even when they were kids. It had always sounded like Anthony was mimicking what other people sounded like. But Anthony was hollow, devoid of all emotion. And emotionless people don’t laugh. “If that’s how we’re playing now, okay. I’m just glad you’re back, I’ll update the clients.”

  “I -” Marcus started to tell him not to, but Anthony kept talking.

  “I’ll turn the cameras back on tomorrow. Make sure she’s in decent shape for her debut, alright?” Anthony stood carefully and walked over to him, and Marcus had to fight the physical urge to step back, or hit him. “I’m so happy I don’t have to monitor you anymore. I knew you’d move past your little obsession eventually.”

  Marcus gritted his teeth, his heart was pounding in his ears and he was seeing red as his urge to rip his brother apart surged. Thalia wasn’t an obsession, she was a possession. A stolen possession. Stolen by Anthony’s party, by James’ pretty lies, by Thalia’s refusal to see what she really needed.

  “I’ll call later in the week for an update. Have fun.” Anthony revealed the belt he had been holding at his side and pressed it against Marcus’ palm. And with that dark toned suggestion, Anthony was
out the door. Marcus finally focused his attention on the girl and approached her. As soon as he walked towards her, she started shaking harder. Whimpering.

  “Please, please, let me go, pl -” Marcus’ hand shot forward and wrapped around her throat to shut her up. Her voice was wrong. Too high to be Thalia’s, too whiny.

  “Don’t speak.” Marcus’ voice rumbled in his chest as he moved his hand to push her hair out of her face. Light brown, but still not the right shade. And a little too short, it barely came past the girl’s shoulders. “Open your eyes, Thalia.”

  The girl’s eyes snapped open, full of fear and terror, and too close to green. Thalia’s eyes were more hazel, a perfect mix of brown, and green, and gray in places. He let go of the girl and stepped back with a growl, his hand thrusting into his hair to pull at it. She wasn’t right.

  “M- my name is Vicky. Victoria. I’m not who you’re looking for! I’m not Thalia! Please, please just let me go. Let me go, I won’t tell anyone!” Her sobs were making her hard to understand, “I wo- won’t s-s-s-say anything -”

  He backhanded her before he had actually thought about it. Her head snapped to the side, and she started sobbing harder. Even the way she cried was wrong. So whiny, shrill with fear. “Shut up! If you talk again, you’ll regret it.”

  In response she only shook, her fists clenched in tight little balls on the other side of the cuffs. Marcus reached forward and pulled her head up by her hair. “You think you can just leave? Walk out on me? Without permission?”

  The girl’s imperfect hazel eyes widened, but she didn’t speak. Marcus’ fist tightened around the leather of the belt, the perfect loop begging him to let his rage out.

  No, she wasn’t Thalia, but she would do.

  Chapter Six

  Five Months After the Auction

  “Do we really have to go to this party?” Thalia heard a bit of a whine in her voice, but she couldn’t help it. She was nervous.

  “It’s a gala, baby, and yes. I skipped the last one and have not heard the end of it at work.” James stepped into the bathroom where she was staring at herself in the mirror.

  “What’s it for again?” she asked.

  “We did well in the last quarter, and have expanded our reach into Northern Africa. So, tonight is to celebrate and to raise money for an organization providing aid there. Giving back and all that.” He tilted his head at her and she made herself meet his eyes, perfectly green like sea glass.

  “Who would you normally have brought to this?” Thalia felt the insecurity rise up in her. The deep blue dress was worth a fortune, and even in the mirror she looked like some kind of imposter.

  “Normally?” James’ forehead creased, his hands pausing as he adjusted the tie at his neck.

  “Before... me.” Her eyes couldn’t stay at his, his questioning stare was too intense. She looked down at the bodice of the dress and forced a deep breath that strained the fabric. All their dates to local places had gone so smoothly. She had barely felt an inkling of the old fear, the old panic. Even when they’d dressed up for a nicer restaurant she’d been fine. Perfectly content to talk with James, to call him James, while out and about. And all of it had been perfect, normal. The dates had been fantastic. Their first foray into a ‘special’ date had been at a loud, dark club in London, and it had been exhilarating. On her knees, the music pounding, his hand in her hair as she tasted him. The sex they’d had when they got home - hard, fast, intense. It was perfect. It was so perfect. So why did he want to go to this gala? Now? With her?

  James had turned to lean back against the counter, forcing her to look at him again. He gripped the counter edge lightly as he spoke, “If I required a date to attend a function like this one, I usually gave in to whomever had been pestering me for one.”

  Of course women had pestered him. James was gorgeous. Broad shoulders, blond hair that sometimes fell in his eyes when he was focused. The tux he was in made him look like some kind of movie star. How the hell could she compare? To him? To these women he knew?

  “What were they like?” she mumbled, trying to ignore her reflection in the mirror.

  “Irritating. Snobby, aristocratic -”

  “Rich?” she interrupted.

  James sighed, pushing a hand through his hair. “Yes, they usually came from money.” Thalia laughed, throwing her hands up.

  “And now you’re bringing an uneducated, middle-class, American, ex-data entry employee to this?!” Thalia’s voice was bordering on hysterical. Why he thought she would even remotely fit in she couldn’t understand. “I’m just a yoga instructor... in training! I don’t fit in with these people! I’ll just embarrass you!” The concern jumped out of her mouth before she could stop it.

  “They already offered you the position when you finish the certification in two weeks, didn’t they?” James was unfazed by her rant, he just tilted his head as he stared at her.

  “Well, yes, but -”

  “And didn’t Kalen write you a very nice recommendation letter so you had a resume to provide them?” His voice was warm, a hint of a smile on his lips as he spoke.

  “Oh yeah, ‘yoga instructor at a Scottish couples retreat’,” Thalia rolled her eyes, “God forbid anyone asks me questions about that.” Kalen had written it a couple of weeks after they got back when Thalia started the instructor training. The letter had made her blush like crazy.

  James laughed, “You’ll handle it beautifully, baby.”

  “You have too much faith in me. In this, and in this party. Gala.” She corrected. Thalia’s eyes found herself in the mirror again. She’d curled her hair, applied makeup like Julie had taught her to, and she was wearing the obnoxiously expensive gown that looked like she should be on a red carpet. What the fuck was she about to do?

  “Thalia.” James’ voice was serious as he took her hand and tugged her towards him. “I want to show off my sexy, soon-to-be yoga instructor, American, girlfriend. Is that so wrong?” His grin should be illegal. It was overwhelming, and enticing, and - she had to admit - it quelled her nerves a bit.

  “You’re so smooth.” She laughed and he grabbed her tight and pulled her against him, the fabric of the dress crumpling a little.

  “You like it.” James grinned and kissed her, and for a moment everything melted away. The worry over the celebration gala where she’d finally meet his work friends, and other important people in the city. The awkwardness of being in a dress that probably cost more than her old monthly salary. The tension of James being so comfortable in this world, and it being so alien to her. None of it mattered. None of it mattered when his hands landed on her hips, and his tongue moved against hers. She wanted to strip them both out of these fancy clothes and spend the evening in bed, or in the playroom. Anywhere but the gala. He broke the kiss and smiled at her, and she brushed an errant lock of his hair back in place.

  “I still can’t believe what you paid for this dress. It’s way too much.” Thalia’s eyes tracked back to her reflection, and James moved behind her, his arms wrapping around her waist. He looked the picture of elegance. Aristocratic perfection. And she was - brutally normal.

  “Baby, just think of the dress as your armor. Ignore the designer -” who was the designer again?, “- ignore the cost, and just focus on how beautiful you look in it, and how very excited I am to have you with me. I definitely won’t be bored for once with you there.” He trailed kisses down her neck until he nipped her shoulder.

  “You’d be bored without me there?” Thalia leaned back against him and he murmured against her skin, his lips next to the fancy sapphire necklace he’d borrowed from some store. Who knew you could even do that? Then he leaned back up, locking eyes with her in the mirror.

  “Miserably.” James’ fingers touched her chin and leaned her head back until his lips could capture hers. Another distracting kiss. It ripped her mind away from everything, and she wanted to tell him what he did for her. Wanted to tell him how much she loved him, and how he made her feel. But he broke
the kiss with a grin and continued adjusting his tie.

  “We need to go, baby. Are you ready?” James looked over at her and she shrugged. She was dressed for a nice party, a gala, and she would get to walk in on James’ arm, and come home with him after.

  She could do this.

  “Yes, Master, I am.” She used the term because it symbolized more than being just his girlfriend and it brought her comfort.

  “You should call me James for tonight, pet.” His grin turned mischievous, and he stepped towards the doorway and held out his hand. “And the car is downstairs. If we leave now we could have some fun on the way?”

  “For that, James, I’m ready to leave immediately.” They both laughed as he took her hand and moved to the door.