by L. P. Dover
“No, please don’t touch me.”
“That’s right, beg, you bitch. Next time you will think twice about breaking the rules and trying to yell for help.”
Oh God. He’s going to hurt me, or worse. I do the only thing I can. I start struggling. I kick my legs like a three-year-old having a tantrum. I throw my head back and forth and get one of my hands loose and scrape my nails down the front of his face. “Let go of me!” I scream.
He roars in pain and touches the side of his face where I scratched him. The next thing I know I feel a hard smack on the top of my head. I see stars and I panic, afraid of what he will do to me when I can’t defend myself. Just as I start to lose consciousness, I hear Deacon yell, “WHAT THE FUCK?!” Against my will, I succumb to the darkness enveloping me.
My eyes well up from that awful memory. I remember when I came to, Deacon was angry. “You don’t have to worry about Ronnie, princess, I took care of him. He will think twice about ever touching you again,” he said while stroking my face. My head hurt too much for me to react to his touch, until I realized I’m completely naked. I ran to the bathroom heaving into the toilet, not sure if I was sick due to the ache in my head – did I have a concussion? - or the fear coursing through me as I had no clue how I had ended up naked or what, if anything, had happened in addition to what I could recall.
Deacon distracts me from my thoughts when he yanks open the closet door and grabs a box I’ve never seen before from the top of the closet. He turns towards me, and throws the box on the bed. “You will wear this to dinner tonight.”
Opening the box, I pull out a slinky black dress that I can already tell will barely cover my body. “I’m not wearing that.”
“Oh, yes you are, princess. We are going to have a nice, romantic meal, and you are going to wear that dress.”
“I’m not dressing up for you, Deacon.”
Faster than I can blink, Deacon is on me. I shrink back as much as I can, trying to avoid his nakedness from touching mine. Grasping me by the top of my arms, Deacon’s face is mere inches from mine, “You will wear the fucking dress, Olivia. This is not up for discussion.” As he speaks each word, he shakes me and squeezes me tighter, making me cry out in pain.
“Deacon! You’re hurting me.”
“Stop making me hurt you. Do you think I like this? Do you think I want to hurt you? Why do you keep making me hurt you? Just do what I tell you to do and we will be fine. I’ve told you over and over again that this is our future. You and me, princess. Once you accept that, the happier you’ll be.”
“Okay. Okay, Deacon.” I force the words out of my mouth because it is the exact opposite of what I want. I’ve learned the hard way what happens when I don’t keep my mouth shut or if I don't say or do what he wants.
“Good. I will be back later. Make sure you are dressed and ready.” And with that, he grabs some clothes off the floor and leaves the room.
WHAT MUST BE a few hours later, I’m running a brush through my hair. It’s one of the few personal items Deacon allows me. I have no idea what I look like. I have the hideous dress on and I keep pulling it down. The scrap of fabric barely covers my ass and my boobs are barely contained. I look like one of the very girls I tell all my readers on Pink Sugar Couture not to emulate. My inner fashion diva has officially curled up and died.
Entering the room, Deacon whistles low, “You look hot, princess.”
I feel revulsion internally and just stare at him. He’s dressed for dinner in what I can't help but notice is a well-cut, charcoal-colored, European suit and tie. Where he gets the clothes, I have no idea. Not for the first time I wonder where we are exactly, and how this house is associated with him. The things that I don’t know about this man continue to shock me. How I was ever married to him, I don’t know.
He walks toward me and places his mouth on mine. I refuse to open for him and I know it will only make him mad, but dammit, I hate feeling helpless in all of this.
Pulling away from me Deacon looks into my eyes, “I’ll let that one slide, for now. Come with me.”
Grabbing hold of my arm, already covered in bruises, I slightly wince at the discomfort, as he hauls me out of the room and down the hall. Bringing me into a large sitting room that includes a dining table, I see that he has set up a candlelight dinner. Dread fills me. What is he up to?
Steering me towards a chair, I take a seat - or more accurately, am seated. The table is set and there are even silver domes over what I presume are our meals. Deacon takes a lighter from his trouser pocket and lights the tall candles set perfectly in a silver candelabra at the center of the table. As he leans over, his suit jacket opens slightly and I see a gun tucked into the front of his pants. It certainly isn’t the first time I’ve seen it while I’ve been here, but it is just as disconcerting this time as the first. I secretly hope when he sits, the gun will go off and shoot his dick off. He certainly deserves far worse. I smile at the thought.
Deacon, seeing the smile on my face, returns it with one of his own. “I knew you would like this, princess. I wanted you to see that we can have wonderful, romantic dinners like this. You don’t have to spend so much time locked up in your room. Once you finally realize this is where you should be, we can have dinner like this every night.”
“I don’t want to have dinner with you every night. When are you going to get a clue, you fucking douche?”
The smile that was just present on his lips quickly vanishes and anger seizes his entire countenance. I know I should just shut up and play along with what he says, but I can't; I will never stop fighting. Not ever. I will not let him strip away who I am.
After taking a few deep breaths, Deacon’s eyes once again meet mine, “Tonight, things are going to change. The time for you to start accepting that we are together again is right now. I’ve apologized to you over and over for sleeping with Tracey. I’m so sorry you walked in on that, but I’m done apologizing for it. I’ve forgiven the fact that you betrayed me with that man, so you will forgive me about Tracey. I know once you forgive me, we will be fine. Everything will be fine, princess, and we will be happy.”
“Not for the first time, you are out of your fucking mind. Tracey was merely the straw that broke the camel’s back. I quit loving you long before that.”
“ENOUGH! I am done being easy on you.”
I laugh at that comment. Easy? He calls this easy? My laughter only angers him.
He rips me out of my chair and yanks me against the front of his body. “You are my WIFE and you will do what I say. You will provide your wifely duties. You are no longer allowed to talk back to me.”
“Fuck you, Deacon. I am no longer married to you. I don’t love you. I love Luke. I will ALWAYS love Luke.”
He pulls me just far enough away from him to give him room to backhand me across the face. I feel pain, blinding pain, and taste blood in my mouth.
“DO NOT SPEAK HIS NAME TO ME!” He screams. Then, while seething with fury, he continues, “I will not allow you to talk about the man you whored yourself out to. Do you hear me?”
Before I can respond, his mouth is on mine. I want to throw up. He pulls me tight to him and I can feel that he is obviously turned on from the violence. His erection presses against my hip and his hands are all over my body. I’m stiff and don’t move, refusing to participate in his complete violation.
Then suddenly, an idea enters my mind. It’s crazy, but it may just work.
Hesitantly, I reach my hands out and run them up Deacon’s arms. He stiffens, surprised at my touch. I never return his touch. Leaving one hand on his arm, I cup the side of his neck with the other hand and start returning his kiss. When his tongue enters my mouth, I shudder and Deacon mistakes it for pleasure, pulling me closer and moaning deep in his throat. I grab the hair at his neck, and squeeze it into a fist, deepening the kiss while my other hand starts unbuttoning his shirt, one button at a time.
Deacon pulls away from me and looks into my eyes questioningly. It kills
me to do it, but I whisper, “I want you, Deacon. You’re right, we belong together. Kiss me.”
He wastes no time pulling me back to him and kisses me hard once again. His tongue is brutal in its exploration of my mouth. He starts sliding my dress off of one shoulder and just as I reach the bottom button of his shirt, I quickly pull the gun from his pants and back up, pointing it at him.
“Back the hell up right the FUCK NOW.” I feel like a bad ass. Finally, I have the upper hand and I feel euphoric.
Shock is displayed all over his face. He’s breathing hard and his eyes are glassy. I can tell it’s taking him a minute to completely comprehend what has just happened. He takes a step towards me.
“I SAID TO BACK UP, DEACON.”
“You aren’t going to shoot me. You don’t even know how to use a gun.”
Calling his bluff I click the safety off the gun and see his eyes widen.
“That’s right, motherfucker. I guess you don’t know everything about me, do you?”
“You won’t shoot me, Olivia. You don’t have it in you.”
Deacon starts walking towards me again and I take a step back for every step he takes forward. Before I know it, my back is at the doors leading out onto a balcony. I’m trapped, but I refuse to give up. I reach behind me and open the doors, happy they aren’t sliding glass like the bedroom. The cold air takes my breath away.
“Just give me the gun, Olivia. You don’t want to do this. Give it to me, and we will go back to dinner. I made your favorite, cheese ravioli. Come on, I will show you.” He takes another step towards me.
I keep backing up, “I said stay away from me, Deacon. I am not afraid to use this. I will shoot you.”
I feel the railing at my back. I don’t know what to do. I can shoot him and then try to find a phone and call 9-1-1. That’s what I will do. It’s all I can do.
I grasp the gun with both hands, and before I can get off a shot, I see the intent in Deacon’s eyes right before he lunges for me.
I overcompensate for his lunge and throw myself backwards, right over the side of the balcony. I see his eyes widen in horror as the gun goes off and he reaches for me, but it’s too late. I’m falling.
The fall feels like an eternity, and my life flashes before my eyes as expected, but another thought occurs to me as well… where are parachute pants when a girl needs them?
Here’s a sneak peek of
SKYLER TOWER by the bestselling author, Khelsey Jackson.
Scheduled to release on April 17, 2014.
EVANGELINE SKYLER ALWAYS got what she wanted, and since she was the CEO of Sky Tech – a computer company she built from scratch – it had made her a very wealthy woman. She took pride in her work because she was the only woman to do what she had done.
Her driver, Axel Roberts, parked her BMW at the curb and she grabbed her sunglasses to place on her eyes. She had her long brown hair pulled back in a tight bun and she reached for her black Hermes purse, waiting for Axel to open her door for her. When he did she smiled at him as he helped her out. He had been with her for the past five years and had become a close friend.
“Have a great day, Ms. Skyler,” he said and smiled at her. She never noticed how attractive he was until now. His ash-blonde hair was cut short and aquamarine blue eyes that were surrounded by thick, dark black eyelashes. His chiseled cheekbones and square face made her swoon. He caught her by the arm and his worried eyes stared down at her.
She pulled herself up and away from him. Feeling embarrassed, she had no clue what in the world was wrong with her; she had never acted that way before. “I should have eaten this morning,” she muttered halfheartedly, hoping he’d believe the lie. She did eat, but he didn’t know that. “Thank you,” Skyler offered with a nod, and turned right around to her building.
Skyler Tower was her baby; she was the one that built the little company from the ground up and now she had over one-thousand employees working for her. After strolling into the front door, she was greeted by the security guard, Mike, who had been working for her since she opened the doors five years ago.
“Hey, Mike. How is your family?” He had two teenage girls and a wife who passed away almost a year ago.
Mike grinned. “They are hanging in there. I wanted to thank you for my bonus.”
Skyler blushed, but gave him her best innocent look. “If you got a bonus it was because you earned it.”
She winked at him as she made her way to the elevator. A hand appeared in the closing doors and a man in a gray suit walked into the small space. She glanced at him and his dark, beautiful angular face was strikingly handsome. His raven black hair was slicked back to show off his handsome face and his deep chocolate eyes were on her. She felt her body heat up because he was taking her in too.
“Can you press thirty for me?” he said in a thick Italian accent. She bit her lip, forcing her eyes away from him, and to the numbers in front of her. She had to slide her card and was so distracted by him she forgot to press her own floor which was the same as he requested.
Skyler was never the one to be shy and bashful, but the dominance rolling off of him caused her to lose her train of thought. “You didn’t press your floor number,” he murmured.
Trying to pull herself together, Skyler glanced at him over her shoulder and said, “I am on the top floor.”
He stared at her as if he was figuring something out, and then his deep chocolate eyes went wide. “You’re Evangeline Skyler.” She loved the way her name sounded with his accent.
She was used to people being surprised by her, she wasn’t what you thought of when you heard CEO of a computer company. She had long, dark brown hair and light blue eyes. Normally, she would get mistaken for a model or an actress, but never that she was a CEO.
“I am,” she replied with pride in her voice.
“Well, Ms. Skyler I am here to interview you for The Times.” That was right, she remembered someone calling her office for months asking for an interview with her. She ignored all the calls and the emails. She liked her privacy, and being in a newspaper wouldn’t keep her life so private.
Skyler stood a little straighter and slowly turned around. “I wasn’t aware that I had agreed to an interview.”
His alluring lips lifted into a seductive smile. “You haven’t … yet.”
Arching her eyebrows, she studied him and watched him lick his lips. She couldn’t comprehend why she didn’t want to turn him down. There was something about him that was calling to her. “You have ten minutes before I have to go to a meeting,” she stated as he grinned at her.
She was so happy when the doors opened revealing her floor. The once carpeted office now gleamed with white marble and all the wood was black walnut. A well-known artist had also painted the walls with beautiful scenery.
“This office is beautiful just like the woman who runs it,” his Italian accent said from behind her; she smiled. She was used to taking complements, except there was something about the way he said it that made her turn around to face him. She wasn’t the only one that was beautiful; he was breath taking.
“Thank you. I put a lot of my heart and soul in my building and business.” He took a step towards her and she had to remind herself to step back. She didn’t like to show any weakness when she was at work, and he was hers. “What’s your name?”
He smiled down at her, revealing dimples in his cheeks when he answered, “Angelo Giovanni.”
When he talked it made her think of things, and she didn’t like where her mind was taking her. She didn’t do relationships, she had sex. The last relationship she was in was when she was nineteen, and when it left her heart broken she vowed to never fall in love again. So far that was working for her, but there was something about Angelo that made her want to break that vow. Another thing she made sure of, was to be the one in charge and he radiated control.
She placed her hand in front of him and his smile widened. “Mr. Giovanni,” she said and when he put his hand in hers she sucked in
her breath. Instantly, her pulse raced and her panties dampened.
“Ms. Skyler, I am honored.” He took her hand and slowly brought it to his luscious lips, keeping his chocolate eyes on hers.
She mentally had to shake herself because they were standing in the lobby of her office where many people were working. “Follow me,” she commanded as she tore her hand from his grip, heading toward her corner office.
Her office was different than the rest of floor with dark marble covering the floor along with the large desk that sat in the middle of the room. The walls had wallpaper with a silver elegant design. She waited for him to enter and closed the door behind him. She had a well-known painting from Vincent van Gogh hanging behind her desk. It was her pride and joy.
“I was wrong before, this is what suites you.” He slowly turned to face her and grinned. This man was dangerous, but she wanted him.
“Thank you I pay a lot of money to get what I want,” she said as she made her way to sit behind her desk, needing distance between them.
“You seem to often get what you want.”
She kept her face blank of emotions because her personal life was just that … personal. “I thought you were interviewing me, Mr. Giovanni.”
Smiling, he reached in his pocket to pull out a small notepad and a pen. “If that is what you want,” he remarked, opening up the little black note book so he could write something down. “You are only thirty years old, how did you become so successful?”
Skyler was used to people asking her that. “I knew what I wanted and went for it with everything I had.”
He stared at her for a second before writing her answer down. “If you could do one thing differently what would it be?”
Skyler lifted her eyebrows because that wasn’t your typical interview question. “I wouldn’t do anything differently; everything I have done was for a reason.” She did miss one thing, but fulfilled it with sex, not love.
