OWNED: A Dark Mystery Romance (LOVE IS WAR Book 4)

by Shayne Ford

  She must’ve lied to him too.

  I huff with frustration.

  Why do I give a damn?

  Because it’s not fair. But fairness, as I learned early on, has nothing to do with life.

  I flip the laptop open again. The clip starts playing, Jacqueline’s face front and center–– her gaze tipped up, her lips wrapped around his fingers.

  Bile fills my mouth. I pause the clip and look at the pictures I took tonight. His arms curled around her. Her eyes cradling that annoying smile.

  “The man who loves the truth...” I mutter, my eyes rooted to him.

  He was so keen to shed light on my life. So vested in helping me to find my freedom. And then he dropped me because he decided to go back to his old life.

  “Perhaps now is as good a time as any to return his favor.”

  7

  JACQUELINE

  “How’s your evening looking?” I ask, running my hand down my dress, smoothing the fabric of my skirt as I glance over my shoulder.

  Clad in a wool-silk blend, black suit, bright white shirt and emerald tie, Sebastien enters the bedroom.

  He tosses me a quick glance.

  “Good. I’ll be at the club till midnight,” he says, securing his cufflinks. “You?”

  “Martha and Josie meet me for dinner, and then we have tickets to a show.”

  He holds my eyes, a small smile creasing his lips when my phone starts buzzing in my purse. Without making the slightest gesture to pick it up, I turn around and start checking my makeup.

  “Aren’t you going to take that?” he asks, locking my eyes in the mirror.

  A knowing grin tugs at his lips.

  I flick my hand dismissively.

  “No reason. I don’t expect important calls. I’m sure it’s one of them.”

  The phone starts humming again.

  I look down, pretending that I’m checking my shoes as I push back a sigh of frustration.

  Sebastien’s stare burns holes in my back.

  The phone stops for a split second before it starts ringing again.

  What is wrong with him?

  I have no other choice but to smile and turn around. Sebastien’s eyes lock mine, touched by a faint grin.

  “It must be a fire somewhere,” he says jokingly.

  It strikes me as odd since I’ve rarely heard him making a joke.

  “Yeah, it is, isn’t it?” I mutter distracted.

  I pivot away from him and take a few steps toward the bed, his stare making me uncomfortable.

  For a few moments, I fumble through the contents of my purse to retrieve my phone.

  Several missed calls from Stephan flash on the screen. Text messages too. All summoning me to answer his calls.

  A shudder goes through me as I get swept by a bad feeling.

  “Who is it?” Sebastien asks.

  Swallowing a gasp, I smoothly slide my thumb onto the phone and drop it back into the bag.

  “Some unknown number,” I say, instantly realizing that it’s an amateurish lie.

  Especially now, that the phone starts ringing again.

  “This is beyond ridiculous,” I blurt, genuinely frustrated.

  I snatch the phone out of my purse and power it off.

  There.

  What has gotten into him?

  Smoothly, I replace my expression with a smile and flick my gaze back to Sebastien.

  Standing in the middle of the room, hands tucked into his pockets, Sebastien slowly lifts his eyebrows observing me in silence.

  It takes a lot of effort to hold his gaze.

  “You said you’d break up with him.”

  His words, smooth and cold like freshly sharpened blades slice slowly through me. My heart jumps erratically, my mind scrambling for an explanation.

  “I did break up with him,” I say as convincingly as I can while spinning back to the mirror.

  Pressing my lips together, I run my gaze down on my dress, trying to conceal how distraught I am.

  “And?”

  My eyes flick up, connecting with his in the mirror.

  Boldly, I toss him a questioning look.

  “How did he take it?” he asks, smiling mysteriously.

  No emotion flashes through his eyes. I wish I could read beyond his mask of coldness.

  I take a quick, deep breath, hoping that it doesn’t register with him, and shrug dispassionately.

  “I think he expected it. He was always aware that there was nothing special between him and me,” I say purposely callously. “He knows our situation. I never promised him anything. It was what it was, and sooner or later, it was bound to end,” I comment dryly, tipping my gaze down and tugging at my neckline.

  “Does he know about Allan Sandoval?”

  I cut my eyes at him in the mirror.

  “Why would I tell him that?”

  An amused smile curves his lips.

  “I don’t know. Pillow talk?”

  I toss him a pointed look.

  “Allan Sandoval didn’t mean much to me. Not that Stephan Leon does,” I add, flustered.

  His silence becomes uncomfortable, prompting beads of sweat to trickle down my neck.

  “Listen, none of this would’ve happened, had we had a normal marriage,” I say, discreetly wiping away the sweat from my brow.

  Sucking in a quiet breath, I check my lipstick and my lashes, deciding for another layer of mascara.

  I give him another glance in the mirror.

  He leans against the window sill.

  “What was wrong with Allan Sandoval?” he asks, cornering me again.

  I suck in another breath, and spin around, right hand clasped on my hip.

  “In fact, nothing,” I say bluntly, eager to strike back. “He scored decently in every department, but he wasn’t anything more than a way to keep Stephan on his toes,” I say callously.

  I expect to see surprise on his face. Not even a shred of it threads through his gaze.

  “By keeping him on his toes, you mean... nudging him to break up with Carmen?”

  I waggle my finger.

  “That was not my intention. I never wanted him for myself, but I told him that you and I had nothing to do with each other. I’m not the kind of woman who gives exclusivity to a man who can’t return my favor. There was no way in hell, I’d be the other woman, and he’d go back and forth between us. I know better than that.”

  “How did it help you having Allan on the side if Stephan didn’t know about your fling?”

  I flick my hand up.

  “He didn’t need to know. It was enough that he felt it. He couldn’t put his finger on it, and despite his squirming and questioning he couldn’t get the confirmation that he needed from me, but it worked. I took great care in not revealing it to him. Besides, I didn’t want to feel his wrath.”

  I give Sebastien a relaxed smile as if I’m not shaking inside.

  “You know how artists are,” I continue. “Their emotions run high and they can get out of control at the drop of a hat, and Stephan is no exception.”

  “You seemingly know your man,” he says curving his lips into a knowing smile.

  I take a step in his direction.

  “I had no chance but learn him, and yet...” I say as I collect my purse from the bed and turn around to face him again. “He is not the man I really want to know.”

  Grinning sultrily, I take a few more steps toward him.

  “After all this time, I can’t say that I know you, Sebastien. You’re still a mystery to me,” I mutter, running my hand down his tie, smoothing the silk. “I wish I knew what makes you tick.”

  A faint smile kisses his eyes, his face unreadable as always.

  I tip my gaze down for a moment as I fan my fingers on his chest.

  “Seeing you with that woman made me realize that I know nothing about you. She and I couldn’t be more different,” I say as I swing my gaze up.

  His eyes glint with a secret smile.

  “I’m no
t that complicated,” he finally says.

  My gaze shifts to his perfect lips.

  “Perhaps,” I say, tearing my hand away from him. “But your taste in women has surely changed. Unless, of course...”

  I pause and flash a smirk.

  “Unless you have corrupted her and made her dirty like you.”

  “I guess we’ll never know.”

  The ghost of that unreadable smile fleets across his lips again.

  “I guess...” I say as he pushes away from the window sill.

  I watch him pull away from me as well.

  “Have fun,” he slings at me on his way out.

  “You too,” I mutter, my eyes lingering on his broad shoulders.

  A few moments slip by before I shift my eyes back to the window.

  It doesn’t take long before he walks out of our home. He climbs into his car and swiftly drives away.

  My eyes go automatically to the building across the street.

  The windows at her place are sunk in darkness.

  I spin away, pull my phone out and call a number.

  “Hi. Can you have someone following my husband? He’s on his way to the club.”

  “Sure, ma’am. Anything else?”

  “That’s it for now.”

  I leave the lights on and exit the room, briskly walking across the second floor.

  A few moments later, I exit the house, hastily motioning to the driver. He rushes to open the car door for me.

  Smoothly, I slip in.

  “Can you please hurry?”

  The man gives me a soft nod as he steers the car away.

  8

  JACQUELINE

  The car barely makes it past the first intersection when I call Stephan.

  My heart pounds in my throat as I listen to the ringing.

  He doesn’t answer.

  I call him again. And again.

  I call him a few more times with the same result.

  I text him. No answer either.

  My frustration thickens with every passing moment. Annoyed, I slip the phone into my purse and look out of the window.

  He’s gotten really crazy lately. Perhaps, breaking up with Carmen wasn’t such a great idea. It wasn’t my idea for sure.

  Puffing, I sink back into my chair and cross my legs, my fingers drumming on my thigh.

  What is wrong with these men? When have they gotten so complicated?

  I don’t understand.

  It used to be so much easier. Emphasis on used to.

  Or perhaps it was a different kind of a headache. One that I was willing to tolerate more easily. A smile makes it to my lips as I recollect my first years of dating. I’m using the term loosely.

  I was out of high school, a freshman in college. Men galore. They were everywhere. At the parties and clubs. Sometimes they were family friends. Sometimes strangers.

  I’ve always had the privilege to choose. And I always picked the crazy kind. I’ve had suitors since I can remember. It wasn’t hard, to be honest, but the ones that made the cut for me always stood out somehow.

  Amongst them, Sebastien was by far the most valuable prize.

  I always knew he would be mine. My family knew it as well. I remember him coming to our house. An eighteen-year-old. Quiet, broody, never in a mood to talk. I was fifteen at the time and already surrounded by a lot of boys. His father adored me.

  We were both brought up by our fathers, and somehow I thought that it would help us bond.

  At the time, I couldn’t tell if he was interested in me or not, but even so, my dad always wanted me to believe that one day Sebastien Rockford would be mine.

  I had no idea how he could be that certain that Sebastien would be in my future, but he was. For a while, I forgot about Sebastien. He went to college, and I saw less of him. But I heard of him... A lot, in fact.

  Stories started to circulate about him and other women. Some of them were part of my circle. Older sisters of my friends. Some were women my dad used to have business dealings with or socialites.

  The stories would make it to my ears, despite my father’s effort to keep me away from them.

  There was no point really. By the time I was eighteen, he had already had a reputation, and his name had been attached to salacious stories.

  A few women lost their husbands over him. He didn’t seem to care. Once the things would get too complicated with the older women, he’d move to a different age bracket.

  Not that things were easier with the younger crowd. There was drama–– lots of it, but something told me that he loved it.

  My dad used to tell me that he’d change. I don’t know what he had based that insight on.

  Whatever the case, I wasn’t willing to wait for him to change, and once I was eighteen, I was out there playing the field as hard as he did. As if the two of us were in a contest.

  It was inevitable not to meet each other again.

  I was twenty-one. He was twenty-four.

  The air got sucked out of my lungs the night I met him outside my home for the very first time as a young woman.

  It was a Christmas party. I was no longer a teenager, and he was no longer the broody, quiet man from years back.

  Even then he had that unmistakable mysterious air about him that would make the women gasp in his presence.

  The man was––and still is, magnetic.

  He could easily garner attention with a subtle smile, a cocked eyebrow, or the flick of a finger. I don’t think there was anyone who said no to him.

  He was rich and handsome, and his mind was deeper than the ocean.

  He had whatever he desired.

  Women fawned over him, but I wasn’t one of them. I had a plan. I wanted him all for myself. The attraction was mutual in the beginning, and I did my best to keep him interested. Early on, I learned that he was a very passionate, possessive man. A man who didn’t stop until he had a woman completely shackled to him.

  I played my cards right and made him curious about me. The suitors swirling around me made him want me even more.

  The sex was incendiary, to say the least. He didn’t have a reputation for nothing, and as we got deeper into our affair, I knew I wanted to have more of him.

  I knew there was a risk as well. But as my dad used to say, you can always minimize the risk if it’s worth it.

  He hinted to me that a marriage would not only be possible but even likely. The source he got his clues from was none other than Rockford the elder.

  My father and he were good friends, both concerned with the huge estates they were about to leave behind.

  A marriage would’ve consolidated the two estates. But there was a catch.

  Knowing Sebastien’s ways, it wasn’t that hard to predict that down the road he might be tempted to stray or even look for someone else.

  My father wanted to protect me. His father wanted to protect his money. I wanted Sebastien for good.

  It was the perfect plan.

  Provided that it worked. Looking back now, I can’t say that it thoroughly did.

  A sigh falls from my lips.

  I wish I could have the old Sebastien back. We had some good moments back in the day.

  I wish I could feel the brunt of his passion again. There was no better feeling than being desired and owned by him.

  I wonder if his little plaything had the chance to experience that side of him as well. For a couple of moments I ponder over that possibility, and then I chase the thought away.

  Judging by how fast he dropped her, probably not.

  Speaking of that, I wish I could be more like him. I knew he was cold, but that was a wholly another level of callousness. I may need to learn a thing or two from him.

  A few more moments pass by as I stare vacantly out the window, my mind spinning another thought.

  Sebastien and I could be so right together. We could be what we were always meant to be. The ultimate power couple. Living life in the fast lane.

  The image floats in my
mind, making me smile, but soon it gets shut down by a dash of angst.

  My focus shifts to the other man in my life.

  As hot-tempered as he is, Stephan could ruin everything for me. Not that I don’t like him as well.

  I do.

  He’s not bad at all. He has the same crazy streak as Sebastien and fantastic creativity. At times, I find his jealousy reassuring, but now, it feels more like a liability.

  He’s ready to commit to me, and he’d probably stick with me, but there’s only one problem.

  He is not Sebastien.

  I sigh again.

  For now, I guess he’ll do.

  I smile at the thought, missing the moment when the car slides into the underground parking.

  “I’ll call you when I’m done,” I toss to the driver as I climb out.

  He tips his chin down in agreement before he swerves the car away.

  On my way to the elevator, I call Stephan.

  No answer. I’m no longer smiling, a strange feeling pouring over me.

  Something is wrong. Really, really wrong. Something must’ve happened. There’s no other explanation for his incessant calling.

  Wrapped in a foreboding sensation, I ride the elevator to the last level.

  Silence greets me in the hallway.

  I pace myself as I erase the space between the elevator and the apartment’s door.

  I find it slightly open, the detail only fueling my suspicion.

  Slowly, I push through.

  “Stephan?”

  The windows are wide open, the wind sweeping the sills, carrying in the smell of rain, wet pavement, and grass.

  I take a couple of steps in and freeze in the middle of the room, my mouth open.

  The place is trashed. Vandalized.

  “What is going on...?” I murmur.

  I glance around, slowly taking in the shattered TV and the broken tabletop, the chairs smashed against the walls, lying on the floor next to my clothes, all ripped.

  A shadow walks behind me, startling me.

  I spin around and meet his gaze, unable to suppress my gasp.

  “Stephan...?”

  Empty eyes stare at me.

  “What happened to you?” I mutter, shocked.

  Dark circles stretch around his eyes. His face looks pale in the dimness of the room, his lips quivering slightly.