by CA Quigg
He withdraws, and after disposing of the condom, he rolls to his side and faces me. His damp cock brushes my thigh, and he skims his fingers up and down my lust-shaken body.
“When do you leave?” he asks.
“First thing tomorrow.”
He cups my cheek and places a tender kiss on my lips.
I trace lazy circles up and down his stomach. “After this week, will I see you again?” When he doesn’t answer right away, I know that’s my answer, and that pisses me off. “Sorry. I shouldn’t have asked that. I know this is a one-week deal. One were we both get what we want. You get to deflower a virgin, and I get a million dollars.” I try to keep the bitterness from my voice but I can’t.
I roll out of his arms and stand. “I should pack.”
He looks at me but doesn’t say anything, and I wish I knew him well enough to read the look in his eyes.
“Thanks for the fuck and the money,” I say. The bitch in me is ready for a fight.
I grab my clothes, storm into the bathroom and slam the door. I glance at my reflection in the mirror. My cheeks are still rosy from the breathtaking orgasm he’d given me, but my eyes are glassy with unshed tears.
There’s a hickey near my collar bone, and I touch my fingers to it. The memory of his mouth biting and sucking my skin comes rushing back.
I’m acting like a brat. This week isn’t supposed to last forever, but knowing that and accepting that are two different things.
He doesn’t deserve my behavior. I open to door and open my mouth to apologize, but the bed is empty, and his clothes are gone.
Chapter Ten
Mallory
During the entire drive home, I don’t feel like talking, so I sleep on and off. And Tanya, knowing what happened, lets me.
I only wake when we have thirty minutes to go. My thoughts immediately go to Bryant. How could he disappear like that after everything that had happened? Sure, I’d acted like a spoiled bitch for a second, but he didn’t even have the balls to come and say goodbye.
You would think by the way he’d acted I’d asked him to spend his life with me or sacrifice his firstborn child in my honor.
He’s a jerk. A shithead. An asshole.
Before we left Alexandria stopped by, and when she saw my red, blotchy eyes, she said, “I know this is hard. I know it’s easy to get attached. I’m not going to insult you by saying you’ll get over it. I don’t think you ever really get over heartache. The pain lessens in time because you learn to live with it, but there are days when it’ll flare up. And I’m not going to tell you the best cure for heartache is to fall in love again. It’s not. Your heart won’t be ready to give itself to another person.
“Listen to me when I say you’re a strong and beautiful woman. This week I’ve watched you blossom from a shy insecure girl to someone who sees what she wants and goes after it. You’re loyal, loving, and funny, and I’m glad I got to meet you.”
And I was glad I got to meet her too. She’s the big sister I never had. But I think she was wrong to say I was in love. I didn’t love him, did I? I couldn’t.
It was too soon to love him, but I cared for him and my heart did ache at his absence.
Alexandria told me to stay in touch, and if I ever felt like auctioning myself again, she would help. No way am I ever traveling that road again, or maybe I should say, traipsing down that catwalk again.
We pull up outside my house, and I hold my breath.
“Do you want me to come in with you?” Tanya asks.
“No. I’ll be fine. I’m going to tell him he can’t run my life the way he’s been. That I need freedom from his rules and endless scrutiny.”
Tanya leans over the center console and gives me a hug. “I love you. I’m so glad you’re my best friend.”
“I love you too,” I say hugging her back.
I get out of the car and grab my bag from the trunk. The walk up the driveway is like the death march.
My dad thinks Stella will arrive home later. I told him the campers come home by bus, which they do, but he thinks Tanya and I came home a few hours early to avoid traffic.
I look up at the house I grew up in. I left a little girl, but I’m coming back strong kick ass woman.
I grab the key from beneath the welcome mat and let myself in.
My dad is standing in the hallway with his arms crossed and a thunderous expression on his face.
To look at him, no one would think he’s an overbearing control freak. His constituents adore him. With his full head of salt and pepper hair, green eyes and wide smile, his supporters, especially the women love him. The saying looks can be deceiving apply perfectly to my dad.
I drop my bag onto the floor and meet his eyes. His unwelcoming demeanor makes me stronger and more resolute about my decision.
“Have fun,” he asks, his lips twisting into a smirk.
My stomach drops to the floor. He knows I wasn’t at the camp, but he won’t come right out and say it. He’ll drop hints and play with me as a cat would play with a mouse. He’ll pounce and rip me to shreds when he judges the time to be right.
“Can we talk for a second?” I ask. There’s no point waiting for the right time to talk to him, because the right time will never arrive
“I’ve always been here to talk whenever need. You don’t need to ask.”
“Shall we go into the living room?”
“Right here is perfectly fine.” The muscles in his jaw tick, tick, tick.
“Dad, I don’t want to be a teacher. I don’t want to go to the college you chose for me. I don’t want to sit front row at church anymore and pretend we’re a happy family. In short, I run my life, not you.”
His face reddens, and the nerve beneath his right eye flutters. “Are you going to tell me where you’ve really been for the past week?”
“I was at the camp with Stella, Tanya and Mrs. Haywood.”
“You got that tan by being at a camp in the Georgia Highlands? What about that mark on your collar bone. Did you get that in the Georgia Highlands, too?”
The concealer I spent forever putting on must have rubbed off when I slept. I hadn’t thought to check it when I woke up because my mind had been elsewhere.
“It doesn’t matter where I was. The fact I was away from you is all that’s all that matters. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m tired, and I’m going to bed.”
He grabs my wrist and digs his fingers in. “You’re not going anywhere, you little slut. Tell me where you’ve been, or so help me God, I’ll—”
“You’ll what? Lock me in the attic,” I spit back. “That doesn’t scare me anymore, Dad.”
I yank my wrist away from him. “You want to know what I was doing for the past week? Where I was? I was at a resort in Florida where I auctioned off my virginity to the highest bidder. I gave myself to a man who fucked me senseless. And I loved every minute. As soon as Stella gets home, I’m taking her, and we’re leaving.”
“Over my dead body. You can leave. I don’t want a whore under my roof, but your sister stays. There’s still time to save her soul.”
“That’ll happen over my dead body.” I storm up to my bedroom so I can pack my things. I can’t stay in this house. I can’t. And no matter what he says, Stella is coming with me.
I sit on the edge of my bed and put my head between my legs doing my best to tamp down my anger and normalize my breathing. Telling him where I was and what I’d done was a stupid, stupid mistake.
My bedroom door clicks closed, and I know before I reach it, the bastard has locked me in. He holds a key to every room in the house and the doors can’t be opened from the inside.
“You’ll thank me for this one day,” he says from the hallway.
I slam my fist against the door. “You can’t keep me in here forever. You won’t break me. For nineteen years, you’ve tried and didn’t succeed. You might have broken mom, but you won’t break me.”
A waterfall of fat angry tears fall down my cheeks, and I don’t b
other to swipe them away. I don’t have my phone, and I don’t have access to the outside world. What the fuck am I going to do now?
So much for being a strong kick ass woman. By locking me in my room, my dad has turned me into the little girl I’ve always been.
Chapter Eleven
Bryant
You let her go.
She hates you.
You let her go.
She hates you.
Angry thoughts match the rhythmic thud, thud, thud of my feet against the sand. The buds plugged into my ears blasting EDM music do nothing to silence the incessant chatter in my head.
I pump my arms faster, push my legs harder, and I attempt to ignore the thoughts looping around my mind by concentrating on the burn in my calves and quads.
It’s been a week since I let Mallory go.
She hasn’t replied to any of my texts.
She hasn’t answered any of my phone calls.
It’s like she’s disappeared off the face of the earth, but because of the way I treated her on our last night together, I deserve her radio silence.
Somehow, I need to make up for my shitty behavior, but how can I do that when she doesn’t want me in her life? When she’s pretending I don’t exist? If she wanted anything to do with me, she would’ve texted back.
I pass the spot where I rescued her and my heart muscles clench. Every day it’s getting harder to ignore the pain and yearning.
Sure, I can go and find someone else to fuck, but I know it’s pointless. The only person I want to fuck for the rest of my life is her.
My phone rings. I slow my pace to a slow jog and touch the answer button on my headphones
“Is this Bryant Sinclair?” The voice belongs to a girl, one I don’t recognize.
“This is he.”
“Hey, this is Tanya, Mallory’s friend. We never met. She needs your help like yesterday.”
The entire world whooshes into focus. I stop jogging. “Is she okay? Is she hurt?”
“How much did she confide in you about her family? Her dad?”
“She didn’t tell me anything.” And that realization hits me in the nuts. I don’t know anything about her. Don’t know her background. If she has brothers or sisters. Nothing.
“I think her dad is holding her in the house against her will. I haven’t been able to get in touch with her or her sister all week. When I stopped by the house, her dad said they were on a retreat, but I don’t believe him. Up until a year ago, he’d lock her in the attic when she did something that pissed him off. I’m afraid for her.”
Fury tightens every cell in my body. “Text me her address. I’ll get there as fast as I can.”
The quickest way to get there is to fly and then rent a car.
If I drive, it’ll take me five hours, but if I fly in our company jet, I’ll be there in less than two.
Mallory’s house is in an upmarket suburb of Atlanta. Leafy trees, green lawns, and white picket fences. Her red brick house looks like it belongs in a picture book, but from what Tanya told me inside is a house of horrors.
I get out my car and stride up the pathway.
I rap my knuckles against the door, and it takes a few minutes for a well-dressed man I guess to be in his fifties to answer. His eyes are a dark shade of green tanned face give him the appearance of a TV evangelist.
“Good afternoon, Sir. May I help you?” He smiles but it’s false, and it’s all I can do not to knock his veneered down his throat.
“Mr. Covington?”
He nods, and I hold out my hand, which he accepts.
“My name is Bryant Sinclair. Sorry to drop by unannounced. I’m a new neighbor, and I wanted to introduce myself. I supported you in the last election. My company would like to donate to your campaign. Do you have a minute to talk?” The way to get to a man like Covington is by blowing smoke up their asses.
Hammering against a door comes from somewhere inside the house. Usually, I have the willpower of a tightrope walker walking across an active volcano, but it’s taking all my strength to keep myself in check.
Covington comes outside and shuts the door behind him. “Now isn’t a good time. Give me your card, and I’ll have my PA call you.”
My patience snaps and I grab him by his shirt collar.
“Where’s Mallory, you motherfucker? Bring her to me now, or I’ll expose you for the sick bastard you are?”
Fear flickers in his eyes. “Get your hands off me, or I’ll have you arrested for assault.”
“You’ll have me arrested? Don’t threaten me, old man. In a matter of seconds, I can have ten journalists here. I have news crews waiting. One phone call and they’ll be at your door. Get Mallory and get her now.”
“You can’t prove anything.”
“Try me.”
I shove him away and and go inside the house. He doesn’t try and stop me. Smart move.
I barrel upstairs. “Mallory, can you hear me?”
“In in here.” She bangs on the door at the back of the hallway.
I tense my shoulder and repeatedly slam the frame until it gives way and splinters.
She’s pale and the circles beneath her eyes make her look like a loser in an MMA fight, but relief covers her face. I draw her into my arms and rock her.
I glance around the room. It looks like it’s been the same since she was five years old—everything is pink and frilly. There’s an attached bathroom. At least she had that during her imprisonment.
“I’m sorry,” I say “I’m never letting you go again. You’re leaving with me.”
She clings to me and sobs shake her body. After a few seconds, she steps away and dries her eyes.
“We have to get my sister. She can’t stay here with him. I can’t leave without her.”
“Where is she?”
“Probably in the attic.”
She takes my hand and guides me to a narrow staircase hidden at the back of the hallway.
“Stella, I’m coming. We’re leaving.”
A key hangs on a chain by the door. She takes it down and opens the lock.
Inside the attic is younger, dark-haired version of Mallory. There’s no doubting they’re sisters, but her eyes are different. They’re not the soft brown ones I’ve grown to love. They’re hard and distrustful. Poor kid.
“What took you so long?” I can tells she’s pretending not to care. “Who’s he?” she asks taking me in head to toe.
“The man I’m going to marry,” Mallory says, taking her hand. “Come on we have to go before dad does something crazy.”
While Mallory and Stella pack their bags, I stand by the sitting room and watch their seething father who’s pacing the living room floor like a caged lion.
“What do you expect me to tell my constituents about my missing daughters,” he asks.
“I don’t give a flying fuck what you tell them. Say they were adopted by aliens for all I care.”
Mallory and Stella thunder downstairs with their suitcases, and when they reach the bottom, I take my soon-to-be-wife’s hand.
“This is the last time you’re going to see your daughters, Covington. Is there anything you want to say to them?”
He points a shaking finger at Mallory. “You’re a whore, and I’m ashamed to call you my daughter.”
Violence is never the answer, but this one time I think I’m justified. I stride towards Mallory’s father, curl my fist and slam it into his jaw.
“Hasn’t anyone ever told you, that’s not how you talk to a lady.”
He falls clean to the floor, and I don’t check if he’s okay.
I lead Mallory and Stella out of their house of horrors, and once we’re outside, I fall onto one knee in front of Mallory and take her hand in mine. “Am I forgiven for not saying goodbye.”
She nods, and wipes a tear from the corner of her eye. “Forgiven.”
My heart thunders at the question I’m about to ask. The question I never thought I’d ask anyone. She has every right to say no,
but I don’t think she will. “Now that I’m forgiven, will you give me the honor of being my wife?”
She falls down on her knees in front of me and happiness sparkles in her beautiful brown eyes.
“On one condition. That you promise for the rest of our lives, everyday we’ll do stuff and things.”
I laugh so hard my chest hurts. “I promise everyday will be filled with lots of stuff and plenty of things.”
“Then,” she says cupping my cheeks with her hands, “the answer is yes. It’s always been yes.”
The End
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Acknowledgments
Piper Phoenix and Lauren V, you keep us sane and organized. You make it possible for both of us to navigate the crazy world of self publishing.
About CA Quigg
CA Quigg is Callie Quigg's steamier pen name. Callie first discovered romance stories in her teens and then proceeded to devour every book she could get her hands on. As a result, she spent many years dreaming about billionaires, movie stars, and aristocrats whisking her away to exotic lands. Sadly, those dreams didn’t come true. But she’s happy to say her very own handsome hero showed up eighteen years ago and swept her off her feet.
When not writing steamy stories about sassy heroines finding Mr. Right, she can be found watching trashy TV, drinking cheap bottles of wine, and eating copious amounts of Cadbury's chocolate.
