by Melody Anne
“You are stronger than you realize, Elena. I hope someday you will see yourself,” he said, turning again and walking a few steps away. He stopped and faced her once more. “Take the day to think about this. Don’t make any quick decisions. You have more choices now. Choose wisely.”
With that he walked away, not stopping this time.
Elena stared at the envelope, unwilling to open it. She did have a choice to make. She knew what she should do, but she wasn’t sure she was as strong as Lincoln seemed to think she was. Was he telling her to take the money and walk away? Or was he telling her to submit? She honestly didn’t know.
Even though Lincoln had spoken with her on several occasions, she didn’t know how to read the man. Apparently she didn’t know how to read any man. She hadn’t exactly been the best judge of character to date.
She knew how broken she was. So much had happened in her life, and only with Dalton did she feel even the remotest possibility of getting better. She sat in the garden a few more hours, the envelope never once leaving her hands.
She finally got up and went to her room, sat on her bed, and only then did she break the seal on the envelope before spilling the contents out on her bed.
Picking up the ID, she looked down at the picture of her — that was why she’d had to sit in front of a blue screen a few months back. It had the name Elena Robinson on it. It looked like she’d been given a last name.
There was a date of birth, weight, height, hair and eye color. But this wasn’t her. Or was it? She wasn’t the same girl who had been sold so many years before. She was a new person — a new woman. She wasn’t sure how Dalton had managed to get her a completely new identity, but she’d been reborn. And still, she felt nothing.
The bus ticket was dated tomorrow. She could take the cash — what appeared to be several thousand dollars — her new identity, and bus ticket and could fade away into the night if that was what she wanted.
She was sure Dalton would never think of her again. The pang that sent through her was almost more than she could bear. But wouldn’t that be what was best for her? She honestly didn’t know.
Hours later Elena made her decision. Hell, she’d known her decision from the moment Lincoln had handed her the envelope. But she still had time, she assured herself.
The best thing she could do was to sleep on it.
So Elena safely tucked away her envelope of freedom and climbed into bed, her mind spinning. She lay down for a nap, her mind blank as she closed her eyes. Soon she would inform Dalton of her choice. For now, she would just let it all fade away.
Chapter Eighteen
Elena slipped the slat beneath the sink back into place, feeling much better with her envelope of freedom tucked away where hopefully no one would be able to find it. If Dalton asked her about it, she would plead ignorance.
She was submitting to him. She was going to do whatever he demanded of her, but having that safety net within her reach was the only thing holding her in place. She couldn’t relinquish it, now that it had been handed to her.
Dressing in a pale blue skirt and white sleeveless blouse, Elena took extra care with her hair and makeup, sitting at her vanity, scrutinizing herself in the mirror. The eyes that gazed back at her were dead — or almost dead.
For a few short weeks, possibly an entire month, a bit of a sparkle had come to her eyes. She’d felt safe and cared for. But that didn’t seem to be what Dalton wanted her to feel. If it was, he wouldn’t be pulling the rug out from under her. Just because she had made the decision to stay with him, it didn’t change how much she was hurting.
Elena would soon find out how refined her acting skills had become. Dalton knew she was going to him. He was waiting. Elena stood up and went to her bedroom door. She knew he wouldn’t wait long. No one made him wait — especially her.
No one was in the hall as she quietly passed through, and then she paused in front of his door, her heart pounding with adrenaline as she fought bile from rising into her throat.
Was she making the right choice?
Elena didn’t think she was. But she also didn’t think she was capable of making any other choice. She truly did belong to him. Telling him that was merely a formality.
She knocked. Then she waited . . . and waited.
Dalton was demonstrating his time was all that mattered. She knew he was in there, no doubt about it. But he could make her stand before his door for hours if he chose. If she walked away in irritation there wouldn’t be another chance, and they both knew it.
So she stood there, her legs trembling as she fought the despair wanting to pull her under. How had one walk on a crisp, cool evening changed her life so dramatically? How had her mother’s bad decisions been paid for with the rest of Elena’s life?
It wasn’t Elena’s life that had been affected by her mother’s decisions. Elena had no mother — had no family. It was Mary who had paid the price, Mary who had died that night so many years ago.
Elena had been born from that tragedy, and Elena would be the one to choose a new fate if she ever gained the courage to do just that.
For now, it was Elena who stood waiting in front of Dalton’s bedroom door. She heard his footsteps, heard his muffled words through the door. She couldn’t tell what he was saying, but he wanted her to know he was in there, that he was aware she was outside his door, and that she could continue waiting for him.
After about fifteen minutes, the door finally opened, and Elena had to look quickly to the floor to hide her shock. She composed her features and then looked up again, her face blank.
It was Darcy who had answered. The woman held an almost sympathetic look in her eyes, making Elena feel even worse about herself. But at least Darcy wasn’t glaring at her or worse, gloating. She simply held the door wide open, not bothering with inviting Elena in. They both knew Elena would step through the door.
Dalton was sitting in his large chair, his foot resting on his knee as he leaned back, a drink in his hand, his face blank. She had no idea what the man was thinking, or what he’d been doing.
Did it even matter what Elena had to say to him? Or had he already replaced her with this elegant woman before her? There was no more jealousy within Elena, just a deep-rooted sadness that wouldn’t let go.
Slowly, Elena approached Dalton, and even though the woman was right behind her, Elena fell to her knees and hung her head. She didn’t need to speak words to tell Dalton what her decision was. She just needed to show her submission.
No one spoke as she remained kneeling in front of him, her heart broken, her mind emptied, and her soul shredded apart.
He’d promised to fix her. Maybe this was all part of it. Maybe she needed to be ripped to shreds before she was able to find the pieces and put them back together again. She didn’t know. All she knew for certain was she couldn’t let him go yet.
“You’ve decided to stay.”
The words when they were finally spoken were said without any inflection to let her know how he felt about her decision. It wasn’t a question, but a statement, and Elena wished she could look up and see how he felt about it.
She didn’t switch her position though, just nodded her head.
“Good. We will see if you’re willing to do what it takes to please me again,” he said. “You may look at me now.”
The sad thing was she didn’t even feel the bitterness she should have felt at his statement. That’s how broken she truly was. She didn’t hesitate to lift her head and look up into his cold, dark eyes.
“I want you to meet me in the cave in thirty minutes.”
That was the end of their conversation. He had won. She was his to do with what he wanted, and she had a feeling that what he wanted was going to cost her greatly.
It appeared she was worthless enough to take it all without a fight.
Chapter Nineteen
W
alking down the hallway that led to Elena’s least favorite room, she felt as if she were shackled, being led down the longest mile. It didn’t matter that she was doing this of her own free will, or what free will she still had left.
It didn’t matter that guards weren’t accompanying her or she wasn’t cuffed, at least not yet. All that mattered was she knew her life was about to make another drastic change, and there wasn’t anything she could to do about it.
Stopping outside the door, she lifted her hand and ran her fingers down the grain of the solid wood. Once she stepped through those doors, she knew there was absolutely no turning back.
A lot of choices had been taken from her in the last five years of her life. But when she was left with a decision to make, she knew she was making the wrong one. Maybe it was because she’d been trained so thoroughly, or maybe it was because she didn’t have the confidence to survive on her own. Either way she was making a bad decision.
Elena couldn’t turn back. No matter how much her mind screamed at her to walk back to her room, grab that envelope that allowed her a new life, and set herself free, she still couldn’t make the decision that would make her part ways with Dalton.
She just wasn’t at that place in her life yet.
Of course, she never would be in that place if she didn’t do something to make a change. Then again, today was not the day. She just wasn’t ready.
So finally, her drifting fingers lifted and she rested them for a moment on the coolness of the door handle. Closing her eyes for only the briefest of moments, she took a calming breath and pushed the knob, the door easily swinging open.
A woman was sitting on the bed, wearing next to nothing, her long slim legs crossed, showing the toned curve of her hip and ass. Elena gulped, wondering what the stranger was doing in the room and why she was dressed so scantily.
Elena turned to see Dalton standing several feet away, leaning against a cabinet. Both of their eyes were on Elena — judging her, seeing what her reaction would be.
That was an easy one. It was confusion. She didn’t understand what was going on. Was Dalton going to make Elena watch while he made love to another woman? That would be the ultimate punishment, she decided.
And punishment is what he felt she deserved for what she’d done to him. He wasn’t willing to forgive her so easily, and this was him letting her know that.
“Take a seat, Elena,” Dalton told her.
Elena’s stomach sank as she eyed the chair he enjoyed tying her up in. She wanted to refuse, but hadn’t it been her who had chosen to come, hadn’t it been her who had decided she couldn’t leave him?
She gave herself a few seconds to decide whether she was going to walk back out the door or not. When she knew she couldn’t leave, she moved to the chair. Dalton didn’t hesitate to bind her arms and legs, leaving her bound in a sitting position.
“When I’m not pleased, it makes me do things I might not normally do,” he told her.
There was nothing showing on his face to tell her what he was thinking or how he was feeling. She didn’t know. He leaned in closer to her and Elena hated how much she wanted to feel his lips against hers, how much she needed his touch.
But he got within half an inch before pulling back, not giving her anything she wanted. Then he stood and took off his clothes. She looked down his body, which wasn’t stimulated yet. Even when he wasn’t aroused, Dalton had a beautiful, strong body that she wanted to caress and bring to life. But he turned away from her and sat next to the beautiful blonde on the bed, who was practically salivating while she looked at him.
“On your knees,” he told the woman.
She dropped without blinking, kneeling in front of him, her face turned up to his. Elena watched in horror as he reached out and caressed the woman’s hair, tugging her to him until her mouth was hovering over him.
Then without speaking, he pulled her down and her lips circled him. Elena felt a tear travel down her cheek as she watched him harden in the woman’s mouth while he groaned, clearly enjoying what she was doing to him.
Elena sniffed back her tears and Dalton looked her way, shooting a glare at her. Elena pushed the visible emotion back, even though she couldn’t stop the trembles wracking her body. He returned his attention back to the whore on her knees.
The next two hours were the worst of Elena’s life, and that was saying a lot considering what she’d been through. But she sat there without saying a word as Dalton touched and caressed another woman, made her cry out and moaned his pleasure as she pleased him.
He looked in Elena’s direction often to make sure she didn’t turn her head, made sure she watched the whole sordid show. Somehow she kept her composure; she didn’t scream, yell, or lash out.
She desperately wanted to attack both of them, and she felt herself tugging against her restraints, struggling in the bounded seat. When it was over, Dalton dismissed the woman as easily as he’d dismissed Elena so many times before. The difference was, the woman turned and gave Elena an almost sympathetic look before she exited the room.
Then Dalton and Elena were left together in the room. He didn’t turn to her, just moved to the bathroom door and slipped inside. She heard the shower running, and she sat still and waited.
Fifteen minutes later, he reappeared, a towel loosely hanging from his solid hips. Not a word was spoken as he undid her bounds and stepped back, staring at her. He hadn’t given Elena permission to get up yet, so she just rubbed her wrists where the bounds had held her as she waited.
When he did finally speak, Elena wished he hadn’t.
“I will do what I please when I please. If you make me unhappy, then you to will be unhappy. Go back to your room and wait for me to call on you.”
He said nothing else as he turned and walked away.
Elena kept herself together until she made it back to her room. She didn’t make a sound as she entered her bathroom and ran the bathwater. Her limbs trembled when she undressed and stepped into the scalding hot water, and when she sank down up to her neck only then did she allow herself to let go.
She cried for thirty minutes straight; gut wrenching, painful sobs were rent from her, but she kept as silent as possible as she let it all out. She sat shaking in the water until it grew tepid, and then she got out, wrapping herself in a robe.
Sinking to the floor she opened the cabinet and ran her hand along the bottom, closing her eyes and wondering if now she could walk away.
She sat there for two hours, not moving, with just her hand pressed against the cool wood of the cabinet. Even after all that time, she wasn’t able to retrieve the necessary items to make her escape possible.
She still wasn’t ready.
Chapter Twenty
Dalton took a while to thaw toward Elena, but as she followed his commands every day, and as each day turned into a week and then a month and then a new season, he slowly became the man he’d been before she’d embarrassed him in front of his friends.
He’d repeated his performance with more women in front of her, forcing her to watch, he then began making love to her again. Well, not exactly making love. When he touched her, it was rough and almost harsh.
But it was what she needed. His anger with her drained the more she submitted to him, and once in a while she would get to see his softer side. Once in a while he would pull her into his arms and actually make love to her, their bodies facing each other as he clutched her tightly, his lips devouring hers in a sweet, hungry way that made her feel wanted and needed.
After a couple of months, she was sleeping with him every night. Even when he did have sex with another woman, that woman would leave, the one kicked from his playroom.
He never took one of them to his bedroom. Elena could almost handle him being with other women, could almost deal that she wasn’t enough for him. She wouldn’t have been able to handle him holding that woman through t
he night though.
Sex was just sex, even if it was pleasurable. However, tenderness couldn’t be faked, and holding another person through the night was about as intimate as it got. The problem with Dalton, though, was when he was too sweet, or what he deemed himself as being too sweet with Elena, then he pushed back against that and somehow make her pay for it. He blamed her when he softened, as if he couldn’t handle himself. Elena began to wonder what his demons were — what had made him the man he was.
She knew why she was the way she was, or at least she had a small grasp on why. She’d been stripped of her old life, sold, tortured, abandoned. And Dalton had become her savior, even if he didn’t want to be — even if all he wanted was a whore.
Sighing, Elena moved toward his room; she was afraid. The day before they’d talked by the lake. He’d even smiled at her and shared a laugh. As much as she loved it, now she knew he would pull back.
It was almost worth it to have his affections some of the time. It was why she stayed with him day after day, month after month, year after year, knowing he wouldn’t miss her if she left. It wasn’t about him. It was about her, and how much she would miss him.
When Elena reached his bedroom door, it was opened, so she stepped inside. She stopped in her tracks. A beautiful woman was sitting on his lap in his favorite chair, his mouth locked tightly with hers. The kiss wasn’t anything new to Elena. The fact there was woman in his bedroom was what had stopped her.
She was silent as she stood there, wondering if she was courageous enough to just turn around and walk away. When he broke the kiss and looked up, she got her answer. Of course she wasn’t.
“You’re late, Elena. You know I don’t like to be kept waiting,” he said with clear impatience.
“I’m sorry, Dalton,” she said, bowing her head.
“How are you going to make me happy then?” he asked. There was a gleam of excitement in his eyes.
