by Watson, Meg
“You know, many people struggle with the role of submissive until they discover the rewards it holds.”
I stared at him mutely, a fork of avocado and poached egg posed just under my open lips.
He nodded, obviously pleased. “I know that sounds strange but then, why would so many people be drawn to this, if there wasn’t some sort of pleasure to be had in each role. It’s logical, yes?”
I found myself nodding slowly.
He smiled fondly and I felt myself smile back.
“You see? You did that perfectly. Right there, just the smallest concession to honesty: I appreciate you, and it feels good, doesn’t it?”
Oh god. It actually does.
He grinned at his plate and dug in, slicing the eggs to ribbons. “There’s so much more, Jolie. You’ll see. So many delights in store for us.”
A small smile spread over my lips, and I nodded as I chewed. I couldn't deny that it felt good to be praised, even with the cloud of depression and resignation beginning to form over my every thought.
Once he'd taken a few hasty bites, he placed his fork and knife down, speaking softly, haltingly. “I... hmm. I do apologize again for the situation in which you find yourself, Jolie. This was never my intention, but surely you understand, yes? I couldn't simply let you go. We had been seen together. At the bar.”
I nodded softly, suppressing the crazy urge to sympathize with him. He seemed so suddenly tentative.
He gave an oddly light, airy laugh. “You've really made quite the turnaround, you know. Here.” A hard knock at the table. The sound drew my attention, and he brought his fingers up to his eyes, meeting my gaze. “Look here. You can ask me another question, if you like. You've been so good.”
I knew that it would be a waste to ask about me, my fate, or anything like that. There was one question gnawing at the back of my mind, however.
“Who's Gretchen?”
Rafe leaned back in the chair then as if he'd heard some sort of terrible news, folding his hands in his lap. I watched intently, and saw a flash of pain over his features. His eyes were the ones cast toward the table then as he spoke, slow and quiet.
“Gretchen was my wife.”
I couldn't stop myself. It didn't make sense. I was being kept in her room. Was Gretchen the one screaming across the house?
“Is she here? Or… Did you kill her?”
His eyes widened and shot to mine. I couldn't tell if it was anger, fear, or simply surprise that I saw in the fraction of a moment before Bronson came in through the side-door of the kitchen. When he laid eyes on me, he stopped in his tracks, brow furrowing hard.
I shouldn’t have asked that.
My fingers crawled along the tablecloth toward Rafe. I still needed to know. I needed to talk to him without Bronson. He quaked in his chair.
“I’m sorry, Rafe. I’m so sorry I—”
He pivoted in his chair stiffly, obviously holding himself together by tenterhooks.
“What is it, Bronson?”
Bronson shot me a sour, disgusted look before answering. He straightened up a bit, almost as if he were delivering some sort of status report. “There's someone waiting for you in the chapel.”
I heard the slightest hint of a growl at the back of Rafe's throat as he quickly stood, shoved his chair back, and stormed out of the room. As he exited, he barked, the pain plain in his voice, “Take her back to Gretchen's room.”
Bronson’s smile was slow and spreading, like a wound.
“You heard the man.” With a few long strides, Bronson made his way across the room and gripped me tightly by the arm. “Breakfast is over.”
CHAPTER 5
I didn't make any attempt at fighting him. He was too big, too strong, and I was too weak from my confinement. I stumbled behind him as he dragged me back to the room, his fingers pinching painfully against my arm bones.
Callously he shoved me to the floor at the foot of the bed. My legs crumpled beneath me like twigs and I huddled in the smallest pile I could make. He leaned in, arms crossed tightly over his scrawny chest.
“You should be grateful, you know,” he hissed, spittle flecking white at the corners of his mouth. “You're being treated like a fuckin' guest. Do you like that, huh? Sitting at his table like… what. Like a fucking date?”
My hands trembled around my head, automatically trying to fend off what was coming. I shook my head, hoping that was the answer he was looking for.
“What are you wearing? What are you fucking wearing?!”
He tore at the silk fabric at my shoulder, ripping the ribbons and exposing one breast. I tried in vain to cover myself as he quaked, hands out at his sides in cruel, strained fists.
“You are not Gretchen!” he roared.
“No!” I answered immediately.
“YOU ARE NOT HER!”
My head shook of its own accord.
“I’m not! I’m not her!” I babbled hysterically, choking on my own breath.
He took a step back, whirling on his heel and pacing the room several times with fast, jerky strides. Then he came back to where I lay in a heap, pointing at my throat.
“I don’t know what the fuck you think you’re doing but… You’re not her. Not. Her.”
“I’m not. I’m not anybody,” I agreed nervously. “Not anybody.”
“Fuck yeah you’re not anybody,” he muttered, then arched his back and stared at the ceiling. His fingers flexed over and over again. I peered at him, trying to decipher his manic energy.
Rafe told him not to hurt me. He is barely obeying.
“Fuck, like a fucking guest,” he muttered, pacing again. “And here you are, moping and miserable. Look like you're about to cry. Of course. Fucking ungrateful bitch. Things would be a hell of a lot different if he'd have just let me take care of you. All this could've been avoided.”
“Rafe told you… n-not to hurt me,” I blubbered, tears hot and sticky on my cheeks.
He reached out quickly, grabbing my face tight in his grip the same way he had when I was strapped down.
“Fuck that. Just you and me, now. You're going to answer me. Rachel. Where is she? What does she do? Where does she go? I'm going to find her, and you're going to help me. If you want out of this, you're going to tell me everything you know about her.”
I stammered and stuttered, trying to find any way to placate him without actually putting Rachel in danger. I told him where we lived, where she worked, the clubs she frequented—things that anyone could've found out about her easily with a quick check-up.
With a hard shove, he pushed me down to the ground completely, dropping to one knee, crushing my face against the floor. “You're being coy now, huh? You think I don't know all that already? You live with her, no shit. I'm giving you a chance to be useful. You know that's the only reason you're still alive, don't you? The prospect that you'll be useful. That's it!”
My eyes were wide with terror as I slid along the floor beneath him, face down. I could see his cock straining at his pants. This was getting him off, and I was absolutely revolted. I tried in vain to twist away from the pressure that kept me pinned to the ground, but it was useless. His free hand reached up to the footboard, drawing down the bolt of cloth to tie my hands at the foot of the bed, making it impossible for me to sit up too much, let alone stand.
“Pity we can't have a little fun, you and me. Oh, it'd be such a good time.”
“Leave me alone!”
Crack!
The hard toe of his boot drove brutally between my ribs and I coughed, as much in surprise as anything else.
“You stay put, now,” Bronson snarled in my ear as I gasped, my cheek against the hard stone tiles. He turned with a low chuckle and exited, presumably going to join Rafe.
I laid there for a long while on the verge of tears, but none seemed to come. My ribs twanged fiercely with each deep breath and so I breathed as slowly and shallowly as I could.
A chime boomed through the hallway. My heart leapt, but the
n I realized this was different. It wasn’t the chapel’s chime. It was… a doorbell? I listened hard, straining to hear more.
As I worked at sitting up, I felt the cloth shifting around my wrists, and with a single tug, the hasty knot Bronson tied fell open. My hands slipped out of the binding.
Sliding along the tiles, I held my breath and listened hard. From the small opening beneath the door, I heard voices. Only one of them was Rafe, and I heard at least two or three others. Rafe’s tone was distinct and strained. He sounded almost wounded. Afraid?
Flinging open the wardrobe door, I pulled the peach kimono from its hanger and swirled it around me. With trembling fingers I knotted the sash tightly around my waist and dashed into the hallway, padding quickly along the stone tiles in my bare feet.
I looked over the carved, gleaming banister to the foyer below.
Rafe turned at the sound of my footsteps, his eyes hooded and narrow. He quickly whipped back around to the two uniformed officers, but they'd already caught sight of me. They lifted their chins to where I stood on the landing above them. Their hands drifted to their gun holsters and their feet shifted subtly apart, to a ready position.
Bronson glared up at me too, his eyes red-rimmed and murderous. I could see his pulse throbbing in the pit of his neck from where I stood.
Instinctually I looked to Rafe. His coal-black eyes showed me almost nothing, but I could feel the charge, that electricity between us like a length of telegraph wire. He nodded almost imperceptibly.
One of the officers cleared his throat as the other gripped the radio at his shoulder epaulet.
“Ma'am,” said the young one, his jaw working nervously back and forth, “we're with the police department. Is your name Jolie?”
I stood in stunned silence. I couldn’t decide whether I should be elated or terrified. One of them made their way around Rafe, who simply stood, seemingly just as shocked as I was.
My voice sounded strange and hoarse, like a dry leaf floating slowly into the foyer below me. “Yes. I’m Jolie.”
The second officer circled silently behind Rafe and I heard the snap of the holster coming undone as his thumb flicked against it. He nodded to his partner.
“We've been looking for you.”
CHAPTER 1
“Ma’am, can you please confirm your name? We need to get a positive ID,” the younger policeman said, his eyes narrowed and fixed on me.
“Please enter the foyer, ma’am!” barked the other from his position behind Rafe.
Rafe’s hands stretched at his sides. He looked ready to raise them over his head if commanded.
My heartbeat hammered in my ears but I gathered the kimono around my thighs and began walking down the stairs. Each step was cool against the soles of my feet, and the air was so quiet I could hear each gentle slap.
What are you doing? Run to them! Get out of here! You’re saved!
But instead of running to the police, something told me to stop. Bronson’s beady eyes flashed with hate and disgust. Fear clenched my chest again, and I remembered the sight of him trembling as he stood over me. He wanted to kill me.
Think. If you leave here with them, who’s going to stop Bronson the next time?
“Jolie?” said the officer standing behind Rafe, guarded and suspicious. “Jolie what?”
The younger officer nodded to me as I finally found myself standing in the foyer. Bronson’s eyes shot daggers at me and I pointedly turned away from him. I called out silently to Rafe.
Look at me!
Rafe’s black eyes drilled into mine, so inky and deep I could feel myself falling toward them. He looked me over quickly, settling his gaze on the burning pits in my cheeks where Bronson’s fingers had probably left a mark. I saw his expression soften with remorse, and he shot Bronson a warning glare before looking back to me. There was a connection between us, I was sure of it. A spark traveled back and forth, setting us both alight. I could feel it flickering in my heart.
“Well, it’s Julie, actually,” I heard myself whisper. “Jolie is... a nickname. Julie Hatner.”
Rafe’s eyes blinked slowly and the corner of his mouth curled in an affectionate smirk. He wanted to say something to me, I could tell. But there were too many people around.
The young officer dipped his head toward his shoulder and muttered into his radio.
“Julie,” Rafe said in a low, slow growl that thrilled my heart. My name. He was saying it aloud and the sound of the desire in his voice was clear.
“Miss, can you please step to the side? Miss?” the other officer commanded. He sidestepped toward the stairs and glared at me, pointing me away from Rafe.
“What? Why?” I cooed demurely. My body went on autopilot. In three steps I crossed the foyer and landed against Rafe’s chest, staring up at him with unabashed affection. I felt his chest cave to make room for me and his arm tightened protectively around my shoulder. It felt good. Safe. I stared Bronson down, who stood with his arms out slightly, hands trembling, his neck sweaty and reddened.
“Step to the side, ma’am!”
“What’s going on, darling?” I asked Rafe, my chin tipped toward his, so close I could have almost kissed him. I saw his nostrils flare and the slight, almost invisible nod he gave me. He was proud of me.
Yes, this is right. This feels so right.
“Ma’am, we had a report—” started the younger officer. He cocked his head at the older one, trying to draw his attention toward my obvious body language.
“What kind of report?” I said innocently from the shelter of Rafe’s embrace. Bronson’s angry glare sizzled across the room and I studiously ignored it.
The younger one shifted his weight, adjusting his heavy belt at his hip. I noticed his hand was nowhere near the holster of his weapon.
“We had a report come in that you were missing, possibly in the company of this man. Your friend... Rachel?”
He paused, his eyebrows raised. I nodded tentatively to acknowledge that I knew her and saw Bronson’s disgusted snarl out of the corner of my eye.
“Well, she was begging and pleading with us to find you, but...” he continued, letting his voice trail off. There was a hint of a blush creeping up his neck. He looked around, his eyes coming back to mine. “Ma'am, do you feel you are in any danger?”
I straightened up, shaking my head with a convincing laugh and tugging the loose, revealing robe around my bosom. I could feel the other officer circling to the side, assessing the situation from every angle.
“Danger?” I repeated incredulously. “No, of course not! Just... A little, um, fling? It's embarrassing, but... ah, you know how it is, right? Meet a tall, handsome stranger at a bar, one thing leads to another...”
“You've been missing for a long while,” the older one interrupted, peering suspiciously up the stairs with his hand still on the gun at his hip.
“Then why are you just looking for me now?” I shot back automatically, then corrected myself. I didn’t want them to see any deeper than my surface or to raise any questions.
This is a simple hookup. Convince them. Show them.
I breathed deeply, allowing the neckline of my robe to fall off my shoulder, arching my back toward Rafe and dragging my hip across his prominent erection. He quirked an eyebrow at me and I stifled the urge to wink back.
“Well… Look around, officers. Can you blame me?”
I raised my eyebrows theatrically as though it should all be obvious. My palm pressed flat against Rafe’s chest and I could feel his racing pulse, though he seemed perfectly calm on the outside.
“I just kinda got caught up in it all,” I continued shyly, my voice barely above a whisper. “Don't worry—I'll give Rachel a call. I'm really sorry she wasted your time, but I'm fine. So fine! Right?” I tipped my chin back up to Rafe, connecting with his eyes again. I loved the surge of electricity between us, how it bound us completely together.
“Thank you for coming, though,” I added, not tearing myself away from Rafe. He
buzzed and throbbed like a caged animal and I couldn’t wait to hear what he would say to me when they left. “I feel good knowing that there are men like you out there to protect people.”
The officers shared a silent conversation for several seconds, ending with a small, satisfied nod of agreement.
I did it.
“If you need anything, you know how to reach emergency services. Have a good day, ma'am.”
Apparently convinced, the younger officer looked Bronson up and down before walking backward toward the tall front door. He motioned with his chin for his partner, who hesitated a few seconds longer.
The older one turned to Rafe before reaching for the door. “Sir,” he growled officiously. Rafe nodded once but kept his eyes on me.
With that, both officers turned and left. Bronson slowly walked the massive front door closed behind them, staring back at me incredulously.
“What the fuck was that?” Bronson hissed when the door was finally shut. He started toward us with one hand clawing the air menacingly and Rafe pivoted, drawing me behind him.
“That was a shot across the bow,” Rafe growled, his suppressed rage beginning to cut through his polished exterior. “Obviously our security is not what it should be.”
“No! Her!” Bronson yelped, coming closer and pointing at me. “She brought them here, she—”
“—She saved us both,” Rafe interrupted. His hand closed protectively over my hip and I pressed myself to him, unable to keep the smile from my lips.
Bronson stopped, quaking where he stood. He shook his head in disbelief and licked his lips with a desperate, reptilian flicker of his tongue.
“Oh no, no, no! No way you are falling for this little bitch’s fucking lies!”
“Quiet!” Rafe boomed, his voice a thunderclap in the marble room. “Jolie seems to have a better grasp of our situation than you do at this point. How did they get through the gate? How were they even dispatched?”
Bronson held his hands palm out, trying to push back.
“All I’m saying is—”
“—You’ve said more than enough! I want answers to these questions, Bronson. Things you were already supposed to have taken care of. How did two uniformed, armed police officers just walk in the front door of my home?”
