Breaking Meredith_A Dark Romance

by Izzy Sweet

  I remove my hand from her mouth and quickly push my lips hard against her plump pink lips. I don’t dare try to taste her though.

  I know the dangers of that now.

  Her eyes widen in shock as I pull away from her.

  Releasing her, I stand from the bed. This time I back away from her to the door and then let myself out. Locking the door behind myself, I head out to my garage and climb into the black Escalade. I need to hurry if I’m going to make it to Lucifer’s compound in time.

  Adjusting my firm cock around in my pants, I shrug out the tension in my shoulders.

  Fuck.

  Once again, she’s brought out the worst in me.

  8

  Meredith

  So my attempt to kill Simon failed miserably. I wasn’t really expecting to succeed, but I wasn’t really expecting his response either. After he left me high and dry last night, I was hoping, praying actually, that this physical connection between us was all in my head.

  It was all just my sick, fuck up imagination, brought on by being cooped up so long in the townhouse without any male companionship…

  But he proved that theory wrong the moment he pushed his lips against my lips.

  Why the fuck did he do that? Why is he fucking with my head?

  It’s not bad enough that he has me caged in this room, locked up like an animal, but he also has to pour salt into the wound by exploiting my unwanted attraction to him?

  Once again, I find myself struggling to understand what makes this man tick. He’s smarter, much smarter than I ever gave him credit for.

  And he’s effectively turned me into a crazy woman.

  Never in my life have I been so out of sorts. So… unable to control myself.

  Control... It all comes down to control. He’s effectively stripped everything away from me, and I’m desperate to get some of it, any of it, back.

  My attempt to murder Simon might have failed, but he also failed when he didn’t take the fork with him.

  No, there will be no second attempt. Not only because I know he’ll see it coming, but because, despite what happened to Ahmad, I’m not a killer. I’m not a complete fucking psycho like Matthew and his men.

  That and I don’t plan on being here when he gets back.

  I’m going to use the fork to get out of this room. It’s my ticket to freedom.

  Smart as he may be, Simon really fucked up when he informed me he’s going to be gone all day. Not only does it give me plenty of time to get my act together, it also gives me plenty of time to find a way out of this prison.

  It takes me longer than I like to chip away at the door with the end of the fork until I can squeeze the fork through enough to push against the latch, but when I do I feel a strong sense of accomplishment.

  Ha, take that, asshole.

  I give one good push and the latch slides in. Another push and I’m out in the hall.

  Pausing, I listen carefully. All is quiet. I tiptoe my way to the staircase and lean over the banister, checking the first floor.

  There’s no movement. No noise. Not even a beep.

  Good, he’s still gone.

  Quietly, I slink down the stairs, on high alert.

  It hasn’t escaped me that this could be a trick. Given that I still don’t understand Simon, I can’t put anything past him. This could very well be another way to fuck with me.

  If there’s one thing I do know, it’s that he seems to enjoy fucking with my head.

  Reaching the bottom of the stairs, I make my way to the front door and can’t help but feel like this has been too easy.

  Then I spot the catch.

  Beside the front door is a keypad for a security system.

  Shit.

  I step up to the keypad and read the display. It reads: Armed. All zones secure.

  What the fuck does that mean? How many zones does he have?

  Reaching for the door knob, I hesitate. If I try it will it set the alarm system off?

  Probably. Fuck. And who knows who will show up. I doubt it will be the police. More likely it will be Simon or one of Matthew’s other men.

  It takes every ounce of self-control I have to keep from saying fuck it and trying the door knob anyway, but the last thing I want to do is try it and still be trapped.

  There has to be another way out of the house, there has to be.

  Backing away from the door, I turn around and consider my options. I don’t know exactly how security systems work, but I know they’re usually connected to the doors and windows. So messing with any of them right now is out of the question.

  I walk through the living area, the kitchen. Searching for a phone, for a computer, for anything that will give me a connection to the outside world, but only come up empty-handed.

  Simon’s house is abnormally neat and orderly. The majority of his drawers and cabinets are half empty, filled with only with the necessities. Everything is sorted by color or function. I don’t understand how anyone can live like this, but it certainly makes searching through his crap easier.

  Makes it even easier to mess everything up for the fuck of it.

  Once I tire of moving his things around, I move on to the other doors on this level. Of course there’s a blinking thing by both the door that leads to the garage and the one that leads to the backyard.

  The few interior doors, however, are clear.

  One leads to a bathroom, the other to a closet.

  The third leads to a set of stairs that I assume leads down to the basement. I really don’t want to go down there, I really don’t. Who knows what kind of messed up stuff he keeps in his dungeon. There could be bodies or other freaky stuff.

  Besides, I doubt there’s an exit.

  Closing the door to the basement, I feel the need to scream in frustration. Why can’t anything about this situation be easy? I’m not a stupid woman, I should be able to figure a way out of this.

  Having searched the first floor, my only other option is to go back up. I take the stairs two at time, so frustrated I’m not so worried about being quiet.

  Once, I reach the landing, I force myself to slow down. I don’t want to miss anything because I’m upset. The clock is ticking.

  There are only four doors on this floor.

  One leads to a bathroom, the other to what appears to be another guest room. The third door leads to the room he kept me in.

  The last door reveals the master suite.

  Stepping into Simon’s room, I eye his bed then take in the spartan furnishings. God, he’s so boring. There’s no color, no personality. Just gray, black, and white drab.

  The first door I yank open leads to a bathroom. Of course it’s so clean it fucking sparkles. It also reeks of disinfectant. The next door leads to his closet. All his shirts, ties, and suits are hung up and sorted by color.

  I pull down one of his white dress shirts and then grab a black belt to go with it.

  Simon still hasn’t replaced the shirt he destroyed on the way here and I’d prefer not to walk around Garden City in my bra. I need to draw as little attention to myself as possible.

  Quickly buttoning up the shirt, I wrap the black belt around my waist and check myself in his mirror. It’s not the most fashionable outfit, but it will do for right now.

  On a whim, I decide to push down my dirty skirt and panties then chuck them at his bed.

  Bet he’ll fucking love that.

  Properly dressed for escape, I check the last door in this room, hoping for a miracle.

  What I find is every evil genius’s wet dream. An entire room full of computers and high-tech equipment.

  A blast of cold air hits me as soon as I step into the room and for a moment I’m almost dazzled by all the flashing screens. There’s just so many of them. It’s fucking visual overload.

  Blinking, I move further into the room and count up the screens on the wall in front of me. There are ten of them. I do a slow spin and look to the other walls, counting up the screens. Ten on each. So thi
rty screens total in this one room.

  How can he possibly watch all of them?

  While the screens on the walls to my left and right seem to be live news broadcasts from around the world, the screens hanging above the desk in the back of the room look to be surveillance.

  I approach the desk, a sick feeling growing in the pit of my stomach. Part of me knows what I’ll find. I’ve had my suspicions…

  Half of the screens seem to be locked on one picture, while the other half seem to be cycling through different scenes.

  Sitting down in the chair in front of the desk, I start at the top and work my way left to right. The first screen shows the front gate of Matthew’s compound. There’s two armed security guards standing at ready in the guard shack, but otherwise nothing else is really going on.

  The second screen is a little more interesting. It shows the inside of a bar or club and is actively using facial recognition to identify all the patrons. Little bits of text information keeps popping up on the screen, next to everyone’s head.

  The next two screens show the outside of two schools. I’d bet my left tit the two schools are Adam and Evelyn’s.

  The fifth screen is currently cycling but only between two images. The bedroom Simon had me trapped in and the bathroom connected to it.

  That creepy fuck… I knew he was watching me. I just didn’t think he’d be sick enough to watch me in the bathroom too. My skin crawls. Did he watch me while I showered? While I used the toilet?

  Fuck, I rather not know.

  The sixth screen is also cycling but through more images. At first it shows an empty living room then flashes to an empty kitchen. It takes me a second to recognize it as the townhouse I was living in. The screen flashes to the empty bedroom then flashes to the empty bathroom.

  Goddammit.

  How long has this fucker been watching me? How much has he seen?

  The thought of him watching me while I was completely oblivious makes me sick to my stomach.

  I suspected I was under some surveillance, but the complete and absolute violation of my privacy...

  I don’t even know how to fucking process it.

  Is he watching me right now? My eyes quickly shift to the next screen as the hair on the back of my neck stands on end.

  The screen shows the outside of this house. Cycling from the front gate, to the backyard, to the garage, and back to the front gate again.

  The next screen is static. It’s focused on me sitting in front of the desk.

  Shit.

  If he’s connected remotely to these cameras, he could be watching me right now.

  And if he’s watching me right now, he’s probably on his way back.

  “Dammit,” I curse and start pushing buttons on his keyboard, hoping to trigger a command that will fuck with the cameras.

  Nothing happens. No doubt he has some super-secret sequence or password to prevent someone from messing with this crap.

  I grab the mouse and whirl it around, then search the screens for a pointer. My eyes fly over the screens I’ve already observed then stop dead on the ninth screen.

  It’s like some bad dream as I take in what looks to be a security check point in an airport.

  The camera is focused on a man dressed in a dark suit, going through what I assume is customs. He looks annoyed, his mouth pulled down in a frown, and his gestures are short and sharp as the agent working with him glances between him and some paperwork.

  I’d recognize him anywhere. It’s Ahmed’s brother, Asad.

  Please don’t be Garden City, I pray as I search the screen for a sign that will identify the airport he’s in.

  The agent nods his head and hands the paperwork he’s holding back to Asad.

  Asad angrily rips the paperwork out of the agent’s hands then grabs his bag and walks through the lane he’s in.

  The picture changes and changes, following him as he walks through the airport. I manage to catch a glimpse of one of the signs advertising Garden City and my worst fear is confirmed.

  He’s close.

  I knew it was only a matter of time, but I was hoping I could get away before this happened.

  Now it’s too fucking late. I’m a dead woman walking.

  The camera sticks to Asad as he walks out of the airport to a black car that’s parked at the curb waiting for him.

  The camera moves away from him for a moment, zooming in on the license plate. The license plate is white bordered with red and above the random sequence of numbers it reads: Diplomat.

  That’s right, I remember Ahmed telling me that his entire fucked up family has somehow found a way to secure diplomatic immunity in this country. He used to threaten that he could do anything to anyone in this country and there would be nothing to stop him.

  I watch, my heart racing faster and faster, as the camera zooms back in on Asad. A driver takes his bag and pulls open the back door for him. Asad glances around himself and I swear he looks right at the camera before climbing into the car.

  The driver closes the door and then heads to the back, placing Asad’s bag in the trunk. The driver then walks back around the car, gets in, and the car pulls away from the curb. The camera sticks to the car until it disappears into the horizon then switches back to the airport.

  I push away from the desk. Does he know where I am right now? Is he on his way to Simon’s?

  No. Not likely. He probably doesn’t know my exact location yet, but given time and his connections, it won’t be long before he finds me.

  I have to get out of here. Fuck trying to be sneaky about it now.

  I start to stand up when one of the static screens changes, drawing my attention. The screen that was focused on the guard shack in front of Matthew’s compound has zoomed in on the front gate as it opens.

  Once the gate has slid completely back, a black Escalade rolls forward. The guards in the shack are waving the car on but it comes to a stop. Then the camera zooms in even more, focusing on Simon’s face.

  He’s staring angrily at his phone then he looks up, directly at the camera. There’s no sound, but I can tell exactly what he’s saying as his lips move.

  “I see you, Meredith.”

  9

  Simon

  Handful. Great word for what Meredith is. Spoiled fucking rotten by her father. Lived like a princess for most of her adult life. It’s infuriating to see someone so damn unaware of her own damn self. She has no fucking control. Where I wouldn’t be caught dead acting the way she does… she acts out with an almost reckless abandonment. It’s like she relishes the trouble she causes. She’s a complete little brat. Brat, like an ill-tempered child.

  Pausing at the compound guard station, I roll down my window to show my face to the guard.

  “You’re expected, sir,” the guard says to me.

  “Yes, I wouldn’t be here if I wasn’t,” I snap back before moving through the gate.

  I know all these safety precautions are needed given the current state of our little world, but it’s still a hassle for me. I remember the old days, before Lucifer became the man he is now. When we were smaller, less known to the outside world.

  Small might be the wrong word for Lucifer’s enterprises even back then, but then we didn’t have all the strife we are currently dealing with now. It’s not new to have little disagreements between rival factions, but it feels lately as if it’s us against the world. The damn stress alone is causing my ulcers to go into overdrive.

  Is it the stress of the fighting? Or is it the stress of having Meredith so far away, not in my safety, that stresses me so much as of late?

  Pulling into a spot near the front of the house, I step out of my Escalade into the early spring weather. It’s too damn turbulent, and unpredictable as can be. Snows and sun are not uncommon on the same day. I just wish it would go back to fucking full-on winter. That would make my mood so much easier to manage.

  I can already hear peals of laughter coming from inside the house as I knock on the d
oor.

  Wonderful, the children are home. I had hoped with it being the weekend, Lily would have taken them out somewhere, doing whatever it is children do.

  The door opens with little Evelyn smiling up at me. She has jelly and peanut butter on the sides of her mouth.

  Just great, a sticky child touching door knobs and god knows what else.

  “Hi, Simon!” she yells to me, even though I’m standing right in front of her.

  What is it with children and yelling?

  “Hello, Evelyn. May I enter your home?” I ask as I peer down at her.

  “No!” she laughs out as she slams the door back in my face. Through the door I can hear her laughing loudly.

  I slowly close my eyes and count backwards from ten. Ten… Nine…

  By the time I’m down to four, Lily opens the door for me again.

  “Hello, Simon. I’m so happy you could stop by. I see Evelyn is up to her normal, charming self,” she says with a light laugh.

  “Yes,” I say. “She’s a true gem.”

  Lily can see how my teeth are clenched when I say that, and it makes her laughter come out even harder.

  “Oh, you poor thing,” she says with only a hint of mockery. “You do know she loves you. Ever since Paul…”

  Nodding my head, I keep silent. I liked Paul. He was a good man to have on our side and a very good handler of children.

  From what Lucifer has said, Paul’s death was quite hard on Evelyn. Her fragile mind understands death and the traumatizing way Paul was ripped away from her when he died protecting the girls. It’s been hard on her and Abigail both. They have developed a support system with each other.

  This is why I have formed my number one rule in my life: no children, ever.

  “Matthew is upstairs in his office,” Lily says as she escorts me in past the foyer.

  Evelyn comes screeching back into the room with Abigail chasing hot on her tail. “Save me, Simon!”

  Before I’m even aware of what’s happening, Evelyn launches herself at my waist and she tries to climb up my body.