Raised For Him

by Farrar, Marissa

  RAISED FOR HIM

  For Him: Book One

  Marissa Farrar

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Raised For Him

  Chapter One | Almost Eighteen Years Earlier

  Chapter Two | Present Day

  Chapter Three | Present Day

  Chapter Four | Sixteen Years Earlier

  Chapter Five | Present Day

  Chapter Six | Present Day

  Chapter Seven | Seven Years Earlier

  Chapter Eight | Present Day

  Chapter Nine | Present Day

  Chapter Ten | Twelve Years Earlier

  Chapter Eleven | Present Day

  Chapter Twelve | Present Day

  Chapter Thirteen | Present Day

  Chapter Fourteen | Present Day

  Chapter Fifteen | Seven Years Earlier

  Chapter Sixteen | Present Day

  Chapter Seventeen | Fourteen Years Earlier

  Chapter Eighteen | Present Day

  Chapter Nineteen | Present Day

  Chapter Twenty | Twelve Years Earlier

  Chapter Twenty-one | Present Day

  Chapter Twenty-two | Present Day

  Chapter Twenty-three | Present Day

  Chapter Twenty-four | Present Day

  Chapter Twenty-five | Present Day

  Chapter Twenty-six | Present Day

  Chapter Twenty-seven | Present Day

  Chapter Twenty-eight | Present Day

  Unbound for Him

  Chapter One | Present Day

  About the Author

  Other Contemporary Books by the Author

  She was born the daughter of a slave, and I’m the son of the man who sold her innocence...

  Catalina was raised for him... Elliot Torres, the man who owns her.

  One day after her eighteenth birthday, Torres will claim her, and the girl I grew up with will be gone forever.

  I’ve been given a job to do... teach Catalina what a man will expect from her, without taking from her the one thing Torres has paid for.

  Her innocence.

  But she’ll always be little Kitty-cat to me, the same child who followed me adoringly around the compound where we both grew up. The compound that she has never left.

  Until now.

  She calls me her Angel, but that’s far from the truth.

  By the end of the seven days we have left together, she’ll see me as the devil I truly am.

  Chapter One

  Almost Eighteen Years Earlier

  THE WOMAN’S SCREAM of agony tore through the night.

  The air where I hid outside of the building was fragranced with the sweet scents of jasmine and honeysuckle. The moon was nearly full, the moonlight bouncing off the ground and rooftops, creating an eerie kind of light, the effect almost supernatural.

  There was a chill to the night air, which was only highlighted by the contrast of the snug warmth of being huddled beneath my blankets, but I hadn’t been able to just lie there, not knowing what was going on. My father would be furious if he found me out of bed, but it was worth the risk.

  Besides, I didn’t plan on getting caught.

  “It’s almost here.” A different woman’s voice spoke up—not the one who was screaming, but one of the others who lived and worked here.

  A man’s voice, barely a grunt, responded. “What do you want us to do with it after it’s born, boss?” It was one of my father’s men, Bruno, who was just like his name sounded, a slab of a man with more muscle than the ability to think for himself.

  Now my father spoke, cool and measured, like he was in most situations unless something really upset him. Something like finding his six-year-old son hiding outside in the middle of the night. Then his temper was like a whip, lashing out of nowhere to inflict pain. “If it’s a boy, take it into the forest and leave it there. It’ll die soon enough, and even if it doesn’t, some wild animal will hear it and decide to make a meal out of it.”

  The woman’s cry, filled with a different kind of pain this time. “No, no, please.”

  The men ignored her.

  “And if it’s a girl?” came that same grunt from Bruno.

  “Then we’ll keep her. If she looks anything like her mother, she’ll fetch a good price when she’s old enough.”

  “We can’t have a kid running around this place,” Bruno argued.

  “Why not?” my father snapped. “My son lives here with no problem. Or are you saying Angelo is a nuisance?”

  I shrank at hearing them talk about me. A sudden shot of fear went through me that my father would agree I was a pest and he’d tell the other man to take me out into the forest and leave me to die, together with the newborn baby.

  I was only six years old. I didn’t know much about what was happening, but I knew enough to understand that Marcella was having her baby. I’d overheard conversations like this one where they’d discussed how her pregnancy hadn’t been noticed until it was too late, and Marcella brought in too much money for them to want to get rid of her.

  “No, no, boss. Of course not.” Bruno was trying to dig himself out of a hole. “Angelo is practically a son to all of us.”

  It was true. I’d been raised by this commune. My father was away on business, sometimes for weeks at a time. I didn’t know who my mother was, but I always had the women who worked here to look after me. Some of the women wanted nothing to do with me, but others were good at hugs and bedtime stories, while some others were better at playing games and chasing me around the courtyard that connected our big house to the individual rooms where the women lived. The rooms had once been a big stable block to house the horses that no longer lived here, but had since been turned into the ten bedrooms which made up the women’s homes. It didn’t seem right to me that we lived in the big house, with its endless rooms and corridors, while they only had a square box each in which to sleep and work. But Father assured me that was just how things were done.

  And most of the time, the women seemed happy. They’d spend time together, and gossip and giggle. But, sometimes, things would go wrong. There would be screams, and I’d catch sight of swollen, blackened eyes and cut lips, and the woman who’d been hurt would either hide away until she was well again, or she’d sometimes vanish, and we’d never see her again.

  When that happened, the atmosphere here changed. No one laughed or giggled. No one chased me around the yard. The women lay curled up on their beds until they were shouted at by the men to get up and pull themselves together.

  I learned during those times to make myself scarce. Everyone was too free with a fist during those tense periods. An innocent question was rewarded with a slap around the face. It was better to just hide and wait for the tension to gradually ebb away.

  Fresh screams came from inside the room, and I shrank down. I knew this was different than when the women got hurt. I remembered being told that when women had babies it was the worst pain you could imagine, and there would be lots of blood. I wondered if my own mother had been in lots of pain when she’d had me. Had the blood frightened her? Had the pain? Was that why she’d decided she didn’t want me? It wasn’t something my father ever wanted to talk about, and I’d long ago learned not to press him for information. It only made him angry.

  “It’s coming,” one of the women cried. “I can see the head.”

  “That’s right, Marcella.” I recognized Yolanda’s voice—one of the kinder women who lived here. “You’re doing wonderfully. Keep pushing.”

  Another female voice was added to the mix, but I couldn’t place it. “Remember to breathe. Take this bit slowly. Pant. Little breaths, like this.” Someone inhaled and exhaled in small gasps, like they’d just done a big run, but Marcella only screamed once more.

>   “The head is almost out! It’s almost here.”

  “You’re doing wonderfully, Marcella,” Yolanda encouraged. “It’s nearly over. Your baby is almost here.”

  Would it be a baby she’d be allowed to keep, or a baby that would be taken out into the forest beyond the compound walls and left to die? Would I be able to hear the baby from my bed? I imagined yanking the pillow down over my head and pressing it over my ears to muffle the newborn’s cries. The idea twisted sickeningly within me. Could I try to rescue it, if that happened? I didn’t think so. Even if I was able to sneak out of the compound, what would I do with a baby? It wasn’t as though I’d be able to bring it back into the house and hide it. Babies were loud.

  I held my breath and waited, trying to discern what was going on from the voices inside.

  What were all the other women who lived here doing? Were they hiding away, knowing this wasn’t going to have a happy ending, and probably deciding it was better not to know? There were eight women here at the moment, though that changed. Several of them were inside—including Marcella and Yolanda, who was helping—but the others were nowhere to be seen. I imagined them huddled together in one of their rooms, praying for a good outcome, though I couldn’t see how that could possibly happen.

  From inside the room, a new baby’s thin wails broke through the night.

  Bruno’s gruff voice reached my ears. “Well? Am I taking it out into the forest?”

  “No. It’s a girl,” my father said.

  Yolanda’s voice came next. “Oh, a girl. Thank God.”

  I waited to hear Marcella’s cries of happiness at not needing to worry about her baby being taken away to die, but I didn’t hear her voice at all.

  “Marcella?” Yolanda said urgently. There was a pause, and then again, “Marcella?”

  “Oh, God,” cried the other woman whose voice I couldn’t tie to a face. “She’s unconscious. She won’t wake up.”

  “There’s too much blood. I can’t make it stop.”

  Terror filled me. I pictured raven-haired Marcella, with her wide smile and kind eyes, surrounded in a pool of crimson. Panic clutched my chest, squeezing my lungs. I was frozen in place, and I knew if my father came out and found me here, I’d be beaten for a week. I clenched my fists, willing myself to make a break for it, run back into the big house, and crawl beneath my bed covers. I should have stayed there. I never should have followed the woman’s screams.

  In this place, screams like that led to pain and danger.

  My fingers fluttered at my side. If I could make my fingers move, then I could make the rest of me move, too. I just needed to focus.

  With a trembling hand, the two first fingers of my right hand lifted and tapped against the side of my thigh. One. Immediately, the tightness inside me unraveled. I lifted the fingers and tapped again. Two. The iron bands around my lungs released and I sucked in a shuddery breath. I tapped again. Three.

  My foot shifted. The stiffness of my limbs hadn’t gone completely, but I was able to move again.

  I was terrified of being caught and didn’t want to hear any more, didn’t want to know the truth of Marcella, though I had the feeling I already knew her fate, even if I didn’t want to hear it. I managed to take a step away, needing to get back to my room, but I paused once more, pinned by some kind of morbid curiosity.

  “She needs a doctor,” Yolanda cried. “She needs the hospital.”

  My father remained calm. “No hospital. That’s never going to happen.”

  “But she’ll die.”

  His tone was cold. “Then she’ll have to die. We have her daughter to replace her.”

  I had already heard too much. With my heart filled with unbearable sorrow, I ran back across the courtyard to my bed and tried to ignore the cries of the newborn baby that seemed to chase me through the night.

  Chapter Two

  Present Day

  “IT IS ONE WEEK UNTIL your eighteenth birthday, Catalina.”

  I nodded but kept my gaze cast down, aligned with Silas Cassidy’s feet rather than his face, just as I had always been taught. “Yes, Master. I’m aware of that.”

  “Are you ready to leave this place?”

  The enormity of that question settled like a boulder inside my stomach. The compound was the only life I’d ever known. I’d been offered glimpses of what life was like outside through the numerous books I read, or when I’d accidentally caught sight of a television or computer or someone’s cell phone, but I’d never experienced any of it for myself.

  In one week, I’d be taken away from here by a different man, and I’d most likely never see this place again. Tears welled in my eyes at the thought, but I blinked them back, not wanting the master to see them. He didn’t like crying women, and I didn’t want to make him angry.

  “I need you to be ready in that time,” Master said. “You’ve spoken to the other women about what is expected of you?”

  I shivered in fear but nodded. “Yes, Master. I’ve always known what I was raised for.”

  He took a couple of steps toward me, and I held my breath, hyperaware of every footfall, of the exact position of his body in front of me, even though I wasn’t looking at him.

  He reached out and touched my chin, gently lifting my gaze to meet his. I shuddered in fear, wishing I could close my eyes, but knowing that would be going against what he wanted.

  “The day you were born,” he said, his voice surprisingly soft, his deep brown eyes studying my face, “I was furious at your mother for dying. Keeping you alive, instead of taking you out and leaving you in the forest to die, felt like I was punishing her. She was one of my best girls, Catalina. She hid her pregnancy from us all until it was too late, and then she died giving birth to you. I was furious with her, and I thought raising you to replace her would be punishment enough. I wasn’t expecting to enjoy having you around. You’ve been like a daughter to me in many ways, and I will be sad to see you go.”

  He still had hold of my chin. I desperately wanted to pull my gaze from his and step back, but I didn’t dare. His hold was firm but not painful, though I knew he was capable of inflicting pain if he wanted. While it was rare that he ever struck me, I’d seen him hit the women often enough, and he was always quick with his fist with his son, Angelo. Or at least he had been when Angelo had been younger. Now Angelo was taller than our master, and while he was still leaner, I wasn’t sure his father would be so quick to hit him now.

  The thought of Angelo made my insides twist for a different reason.

  Angelo Cassidy was a man now, and he no longer lived at the compound. Months had passed since he’d last been here, and even when he was here, he acted as though I no longer existed. I couldn’t pretend that his shunning of me didn’t hurt, even though I understood why he’d done it. I was about to be taken to another life, where we’d most likely never see each other again.

  The master studied me one last time and then released his hold on my chin. I exhaled a shaky breath and dropped my line of sight from his face.

  “You can go now, Catalina,” he said, dismissing me. “You have one week left here, so enjoy it while you can. I want you to be ready to leave as soon as Elliot Torres arrives for you. You represent me when you go to him. There will be no tears and no fuss, is that understood?”

  I nodded. “Yes, Master.”

  He wouldn’t want a scene. He would want me to put my head down and walk sedately to the man’s car, not taking the time to hug the group of women who had raised me or say goodbye to the young man I’d grown up with. If I embarrassed him, I would be punished. One thing he hated more than anything was to be shown up in any way. Though the idea of leaving broke my heart, I vowed not to let my emotions show on the outside. I would bury them deep inside me and step toward my fate.

  I knew my new owner’s name, but that was all. I’d caught glimpses of him during the times he’d come here to speak with my master, times in which I caught him studying me in a way that made me want to shrink into no
thing, his gaze so intense it bored right into me, and even though I’d always been fully dressed, I might as well have been standing there naked. I’d never been able to judge the age of a man well—to me they were either young, like I was, or they were an adult, or they were old. This man was definitely an adult, though he seemed younger than my master. He dressed in the same way, though, with the slicked back hair and the sharp suit.

  Angelo was different. Even though I knew he was an adult, I struggled to see him as anything other than the boy I’d grown up with. He still had the unruly dark hair that flopped in curls over his forehead—hair that once upon a time I hadn’t hesitated to touch, pushing it back from his face, or tugging at one of those curls. That had changed once he’d gotten older. I couldn’t pinpoint the exact moment when I no longer felt comfortable touching him, but I guessed it must have been when he became an adult. One day, everything had been fine between us, and the next he’d gone away for almost a month with his father, and when he came back, everything had changed.

  I left the master’s office. While I would have liked to go back to my room and read, I had jobs to do. The quarters where I lived were also the living quarters for the staff that took care of the house. They cleaned and cooked, providing meals for both the master and the women, though we never all ate together, unless Master was putting on one of his functions. During those times, the women were dressed up in gowns like princesses, and they would serve and fawn over the men the master had invited.

  That was one of the things that divided me from the rest of the women. While they all had to pay their way through their work, my board and keep had already been paid for. I had my regular chores to do, but that was to keep me busy as much as anything else. Keeping me inside the house, instead of giving me one of the rooms that used to be the old stable blocks was the master’s way of protecting me.

  He needed me whole. Pure. If I didn’t have that, I would be worthless to him.

  I stepped out into the courtyard just as the big gates that divided us from the outside world opened.