Hold Me

by Anna Zaires

  Chapter 14

  Nora

  I’m losing myself. Slowly and surely, I’m being drawn into Julian’s dark orbit, sucked in by the twisted morass that is this estate.

  I’ve known this for a while, of course. I’ve been observing my own transformation with a kind of distant horror and curiosity. Things that once seemed abhorrent to me are now part of my everyday life. Murder, torture, illegal arms dealing—intellectually, I still condemn it all, but it no longer bothers me as it once did. My moral compass has been gradually tilting off-course, and I’ve been letting it happen.

  I’ve been letting Julian’s world change me without so much as putting up a fight.

  Even before I knew what the blond girl had done, her plight didn’t affect me on any kind of deep emotional level. Like Rosa, I had been morbidly curious rather than appalled. And now that I know she’s the interpreter who nearly killed Julian, the hatred surging through my veins leaves little room for pity. I understand that it’s wrong to let Lucas punish her in this manner, but I don’t feel the wrongness of it.

  I want her to suffer, to pay for the agony she put us through.

  The fact that I can think at all right now, much less analyze my disconcerting emotions, is bizarre. I’m in the shower, and Julian is kissing me, drugging my senses with his touch. His hands are cradling my face, and my body is responding to him as always, the warm water sluicing over my skin adding to the burning heat within me. My thoughts, however, are cold and clear. There’s only one solution I can see, only one way I can attempt to salvage what remains of my soul.

  I have to get away.

  Not permanently. Not forever. But I have to leave, even if it’s just for a couple of weeks. I need to regain my sense of perspective, re-immerse myself in the world outside our compound.

  If not for my own sake, then for the tiny life I’m carrying.

  “Julian . . .” My voice shakes when he finally releases my lips and slides one hand down my back, making my sex pulse with need. “Julian, I want to go home.”

  He stops abruptly and lifts his head, still holding me against him. His gaze hardens, the heat of desire morphing into something cold and menacing. “You are home.”

  “I want to see my parents,” I insist, my heart beating rapidly in my chest. With Julian’s powerful body surrounding me and the steam from the shower fogging up the stall, I feel like I’m trapped in a bubble of naked flesh and lust. My body clamors for his touch, but my mind screams that I can’t give in. Not with so much at stake.

  A muscle starts ticking in his jaw. “I told you I’ll take you at some point. But not now. Not in your condition.”

  “Then when?” I force myself to hold his gaze. “When I have an infant to care for? Or a toddler? How about when the child is full-grown? Do you think it’ll be safe for me to go then?”

  Julian’s lips thin into a hard, dangerous line. Backing me up against the shower wall, he grasps my wrists and pins them above my head. “Don’t push me, my pet,” he murmurs, his erection pressing into my stomach. “You won’t like the consequences.”

  Despite my determination, a tendril of fear coils in my chest. I know Julian won’t hurt me right now, but physical punishment is not the only weapon in my husband’s arsenal. Images of Jake’s brutal beating flash through my mind, bringing with them a sickening chill.

  “Don’t,” I whisper as he leans down and brushes his lips against my ear, the tender gesture a stark contrast to the threat of his body looming over me. “Julian, don’t do this.”

  He straightens, his eyes like hard blue gems. “Don’t do what?” Transferring my wrists into one of his large palms, he trails his free hand over my breasts and down my belly, his fingers grazing over my burning skin.

  “Don’t—” My voice breaks, his touch making my core throb with need despite the lingering chill. “Don’t let it be like this.”

  His hand comes up, his fingers catching my jaw in an inescapable grip. “Like what?” he asks, his tone deceptively even. “Like you’re mine?”

  My breath catches. “I’m your wife, not your slave—”

  “You’re whatever I wish you to be, my pet. I own you.” The casual cruelty of his words hits me like a blow, knocking all air out of my lungs. Something of my reaction must’ve shown because his grip on me eases, his tone softening slightly as he says, “This is your home, Nora. Here. With me. Not out there.”

  “They’re my parents, Julian. My family. Just like you are my family now. I can’t spend my whole life locked in a cage for my safety. I’ll go crazy.” I can feel tears gathering behind my eyelids, and I blink rapidly, trying to hold them back. The last thing I want is to show what an emotional mess I am these days.

  Stupid pregnancy hormones.

  Julian stares at me, his eyes glittering with frustration, and then, with an abrupt movement, he releases me, stepping back. Turning off the water, he steps out of the stall, grabbing a towel with barely controlled violence. His cock is still hard, and the fact that he’s not already on me is surprising, even considering his new, treat-Nora-like-glass approach.

  Moving cautiously, I follow him out of the shower, my wet feet sinking into the plush softness of the bathroom mat. “Can you please—” I begin, but Julian is already stepping toward me with the towel. Wrapping it around me, he pats me dry before stepping back to grab another towel for himself.

  “What does all this have to do with Yulia Tzakova?” His words stop me in my tracks as I’m about to leave the bathroom. When I turn toward him in confusion, he clarifies, “The Russian interpreter you saw yesterday. Does she have anything to do with your sudden desire to see your parents?”

  I consider denying it for a second, but Julian can tell when I’m lying. “In a way,” I say carefully. “I just need some time away from here, a change of scenery. I need a breather, Julian.” I swallow, holding his gaze. “I need it badly.”

  He stares at me, and then, without saying another word, goes into the bedroom to get dressed.

  * * *

  At breakfast, Julian is silent, seemingly absorbed with emails on his iPad. I feel ignored—an unfamiliar sensation for me. Usually, when we have meals together, I have Julian’s undivided attention, and the fact that he’s focusing on something else bothers me far more than is reasonable.

  I debate trying to break the silence, but I don’t want to make things worse. As it is, this morning’s argument probably killed my chances of getting off the estate. I should’ve waited until a more appropriate time to bring up the visit to my parents; blurting it out in the middle of a make-out session hadn’t been the smartest move.

  Of course, there’s no guarantee that a different approach would’ve altered the outcome. Once Julian makes a decision, I have little chance of changing his mind, especially if the matter concerns my safety. I fought him on the trackers, and they’re still embedded in my body. Julian will never let me remove them, just as he might never let me off the compound. For all intents and purposes, he does own me, and there’s nothing I can do about that fact.

  Trying not to give in to the dull despair pressing down on me, I finish my eggs and get up, not wanting to linger in the tense atmosphere. Before I can step away from the table, however, Julian looks up from his iPad and gives me a sharp look. “Where are you going?”

  “To study for my exams,” I reply cautiously.

  “Sit.” He gestures imperiously toward my chair. “We’re not done yet.”

  Suppressing a flare of anger, I return to my seat and cross my arms. “I really have to study, Julian.”

  “When is your last final?”

  I stare at him, my pulse accelerating as a tiny bubble of hope forms in my chest. “It’s flexible with the online program. If I finish all the lectures early, I can take the exams right away.”

  “So early June?” he presses.

  “No, sooner.” I place my sweaty palms on the table. “I can potentially be done in the next week and a half.”

  “Okay.” H
e looks down at the iPad again and types something as I watch him, hardly daring to breathe. After a minute, he looks up again, pinning me with a hard blue gaze. “I’m only going to tell you this once, Nora,” he says evenly. “If you disobey me, or do anything to endanger yourself while we’re in Chicago, I will punish you. Do you understand me?”

  Before he even finishes speaking, I’m halfway around the table, nearly knocking over his chair as I leap on him. “Yes!” I don’t even know how I end up on his lap, but somehow I’m there, my arms wrapped around his neck as I rain kisses all over his face. “Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!”

  He lets me kiss him until I run out of breath, and then he frames my face with his big hands, gazing at me intently. I can see the gleam of desire in his eyes, feel the hard bulge pressing into my thighs, and I know we’re going to continue what we started this morning. My body begins to pulse in anticipation, my nipples tightening under the fabric of my dress.

  As if sensing my growing arousal, Julian smiles darkly and rises to his feet, holding me against his chest. “Don’t make me regret this, my pet,” he murmurs as he carries me toward the stairs. “You don’t want to disappoint me, believe me.”

  “I won’t,” I vow fervently, winding my arms around his neck. “I promise you, Julian, I won’t.”

  Part III: The Trip

  Chapter 15

  Nora

  I’m going home. Oh my God, I’m going home.

  Even now, as I look out the window of the plane at the clouds below, I can hardly believe this is happening. Only two weeks have passed since our conversation at breakfast, and here we are, on our way to Oak Lawn.

  “This plane is nothing like what I’ve seen on TV,” Rosa says, gazing around the luxurious interior of the cabin. “I mean, I knew we wouldn’t be flying on a regular airline, but this is really nice, Nora.”

  I grin at her. “Yes, I know. The first time I saw it, I had the same reaction.” I sneak a quick glance at Julian, who’s sitting on the couch with his laptop, seemingly ignoring our conversation. He told me he’s planning to meet with his portfolio manager while we’re in Chicago, so I’m guessing he’s going over prospective investments in preparation. It’s either that or the latest drone design modification from his engineers; that project has been taking up a lot of his time this week.

  “My first time flying, and it’s on a private jet. Can you believe it? The only way this could be better is if we were going to New York,” Rosa says, bringing my attention back to her. Her brown eyes are bright with excitement, and she’s practically bouncing in her plush leather seat. She’s been like this for several days, ever since I got Julian to agree to have her come with us to America—something my friend has been dreaming about for years.

  “Chicago is pretty nice too,” I say, amused at her unintentional snobbery. “It’s a cool city, you’ll see.”

  “Oh, of course.” Realizing she insulted my home, Rosa flushes. “I’m sure it’s great, and I don’t want you to think I’m ungrateful,” she says quickly, looking distraught. “I know you’re only bringing me along because you’re nice, and I’m ecstatic to be going—”

  “Rosa, you’re coming along because I need you,” I interrupt, not wanting her to go into this in front of Julian. “You’re the only one Ana trusts to make my morning smoothies, and you know I need those vitamins.”

  Or at least that’s what I told my obsessively protective husband when I asked to have Rosa come with us. I’m fairly certain I could’ve made the smoothies myself—or just swallowed the vitamin pills—but I wanted to make sure he’d allow my friend to join us. To this day, I’m not sure if he agreed because he believed me, or because he didn’t have any objections to begin with. Either way, I don’t want Rosa to inadvertently rock the boat . . . or the private jet, as the case may be.

  It still doesn’t feel entirely real, the fact that we’re on our way to see my parents. The past two weeks have simply flown by. With all the exams and papers, I barely had time to think about the upcoming trip. It wasn’t until three days ago that I was able to catch my breath and realize that the trip was, in fact, happening, and Julian had already made all the necessary preparations, beefing up the security around my parents to White House levels.

  “Oh, yes, the smoothies,” Rosa says, shooting a cautious look in Julian’s direction. She finally caught on. “Of course, I forgot. And I’ll be helping to unpack all the art supplies, so you don’t overtire yourself.”

  “Right, exactly.” I give her a conspiratorial grin. “Can’t have me lifting heavy canvases and all that.”

  At that moment, the plane shakes, and Rosa’s face turns white, her excitement evaporating. “What—what is that?”

  “Just turbulence,” I say, breathing slowly to combat an immediate swell of nausea. I’m still not entirely out of the morning-sickness phase, and the plane’s jerky motion is not helpful.

  “We won’t crash, will we?” Rosa asks fearfully, and I shake my head to reassure her. When I glance over at Julian, however, I see that he’s looking at me, his face unusually tense and his knuckles white as he grips the computer.

  Without thinking, I unbuckle my seatbelt and get up, wanting to go over to him. If Rosa is afraid of crashing, I can only imagine how Julian must feel, having experienced a crash less than three months ago.

  “What are you doing?” Julian’s voice is sharp as he stands up, dropping the computer on the couch. “Sit down, Nora. It’s not safe.”

  “I just—”

  Before I finish speaking, he’s already next to me, forcing me back into the seat and strapping me in. “Sit,” he barks, glaring at me. “Did you not promise to behave?”

  “Yes, but I just—” At the expression on Julian’s face, I fall silent before muttering, “Never mind.”

  Still glaring at me, he steps back and takes a seat across from me and Rosa. She looks uncomfortable, her hands twisting in her lap as she gazes out the window. I feel bad for her; I’m sure it’s awkward to see her friend being treated like a disobedient child.

  “I don’t want you to fall if the plane hits an air pocket,” Julian says in a calmer tone when I show no further signs of trying to get up. “It’s not safe to be walking around the cabin during turbulence.”

  I nod and focus on breathing slowly. It helps with both nausea and anger. Sometimes I forget the facts and start thinking that we have a normal marriage, a partnership of equals, instead of . . . well, whatever it is we have. On paper, I might be Julian’s wife, but in reality, I’m far closer to his sex slave.

  A sex slave who’s desperately in love with her owner.

  Closing my eyes, I find a comfortable position in the middle of the spacious leather seat and try to relax.

  It’s going to be a long flight.

  * * *

  “Wake up, baby.” Warm lips brush against my forehead as my seatbelt is unbuckled. “We’re here.”

  I open my eyes, blinking slowly. “What?”

  Julian smiles at me, his blue gaze filled with amusement as he stands in front of me. “You slept the entire way. You must’ve been exhausted.”

  I had been a bit tired—the aftermath of all the studying and packing—but an eight-hour nap is a new record for me. Must be those pregnancy hormones again.

  Covering a yawn with my hand, I get up and see Rosa already standing by the exit, holding her backpack. “We landed,” she says brightly. “I barely felt the plane touch down. Lucas must be an amazing pilot.”

  “He is good,” Julian agrees, wrapping a cashmere shawl around my shoulders. When I give him a questioning look, he explains, “It’s only sixty-eight degrees outside. I don’t want you to get cold.”

  I suppress the urge to snicker. Only someone from the tropics would consider sixty-eight degrees “cold”—though, to be fair, it probably is a bit chilly for the short-sleeved dress I’m wearing. Chicago weather in late May is unpredictable, with cool spring days interspersed with summer-like heat. Julian himself is dressed in a
pair of jeans and a long-sleeved, button-up shirt.

  “Thank you,” I say, looking at him. On some level, I do find his concern touching, even if he takes it too far these days. Of course, it doesn’t hurt that the feel of his large hands on my shoulders makes me want to melt against him, even with Rosa standing only a few feet away.

  “You’re welcome, baby,” he says huskily, holding my gaze, and I know he feels it too—this deep, inexplicable pull we have toward one another. I don’t know if it’s chemistry or something else, but it ties us together more securely than any rope.

  The clanging of the plane door opening snaps me out of whatever spell I was under. Startled, I step back, grabbing the shawl so it doesn’t fall. Julian gives me a look that promises a continuation of what we started, and a shiver of anticipation runs through me.

  “Is it okay for me to go down?” Rosa asks, and I turn to see her waiting impatiently by the open door.

  “Sure,” Julian says. “Go ahead, Rosa. We’ll be right there.”

  She disappears through the exit, and Julian steps closer to me, making my breath catch in my throat. “Are you ready?” he asks softly, and I nod, mesmerized by the warm look in his eyes.

  “In that case, let’s go,” he murmurs, taking my hand. His big, masculine palm engulfs my fingers completely. “Your parents await.”

  * * *

  The car that takes us from the airport to my parents’ house is a long, modern-looking limo with unusually thick glass.

  “Bulletproof?” I ask when we get in, and Julian nods, confirming my guess. He’s sitting in the back with me and Rosa, while Lucas is driving, as usual.

  I wonder if the blond man resents this trip for taking him away from his Russian toy. The last I heard, the interpreter was still alive—and still held prisoner in Lucas’s quarters. Julian told me that Lucas assigned two guards to watch over her in his absence and make sure she’s all right. Apparently, he doesn’t want anyone else to have the privilege of torturing the girl.