Chained Hands (Chained Hearts Duet Book 1)

by T. L Smith

  My thoughts return to what he said before he left me here, Shower. You fucking stink.

  He told me to shower.

  I’m not sure I want to make him mad. My plan is to get on his good side, then get him to let me go. And more than anything I need to get my phone back.

  It’s the only plan I can think of right now.

  Turning back to the tray, there’s a selection of fruit, croissants, and pastries all lined up in neat rows. I pick up a chocolate croissant hoping it’s not poisoned, and with each delicious bite I take, I move to the bathroom he walked out of before.

  How did I get here?

  My feet pause at the bathroom as my head runs rampant with thoughts.

  I don’t even know his name.

  Am I meant to know his name?

  I read books, it’s what I do. But they’re fiction books, not real life. I prefer to get lost in a world that isn’t my own. It becomes a nice escape. It’s why most of my clients are authors, actually some of my favorites, which I never fail to read when they release a new book.

  Shit.

  I can’t lose my job.

  I can’t go back to the person I was before.

  Pushing open the bathroom door, there’s a towel and a set of clothes sitting on the counter. I run my fingers over the fabric and feel the silk beneath them. It’s not a man’s outfit, of that, I am sure. It’s a woman’s dress, but is it there for me? It can’t be. Can it?

  I almost choke when I see the shower. I’ve seen double showers before, I’ve even been in one, but I’ve never seen a waterfall version in my life. Stepping in, I turn the water on and smile as I watch the water leave the showerhead. Putting the rest of the croissant in my mouth, I tear off my dress and drop it at my feet before I step in and have the hot water spraying my body. It’s like a massage I never asked for but greatly appreciate. Putting my head under the spray, I wipe at my face, washing off the makeup left over from last night.

  “So, you can listen?”

  Oh, my god! I jump at his voice, my hands falling to my chest to cover myself. Keeping my back to him, I look over my shoulder and use my hands to cover as much of myself as humanly possible.

  His eyes look hollow, like he has no care in the world, as he stares at me with not an ounce of shame. It’s like looking into the pitch-black sky on an overcast evening. I cough to bring his attention up from roaming my naked body, to which he only gives a slight smirk before he pushes off the counter and strides over to the shower. It has no doors, and I try to turn my body to maintain some sort of modesty, to which he only shakes his head.

  “You have nothing I haven’t seen before.”

  “That may be the case, but it doesn’t mean I want you to see mine,” I bite back at him.

  He makes no move to leave.

  “Have you eaten?” His voice is dark but alluring all at once. However, beneath it, I have a feeling there’s nothing but emptiness.

  “I had a croissant.”

  He nods, closes his eyes, and tilts his head down to the floor at my feet. I sigh heavily, which brings his attention back to me.

  “You’ll eat with me. Get dressed.” Then he leaves.

  Quickly dropping my hands, I reach for the towel, wrapping it around my body before I step out. When I glance in the mirror, I see the black mascara is still smudged, giving me panda eyes. I wipe at it with the towel and decide to put on my dress from last night, but then my eyes land on the new one on the counter.

  He didn’t say it was for me, but I don’t know who else it could be for. I pull it over my head and let it fall down my legs. It touches the floor and has a split up each side, thin spaghetti straps hold it at my shoulders, and a sunburst pattern coats the material.

  It fits me perfectly.

  Walking out with the towel and my dirty clothes in hand, I find him standing at the door speaking with the boy who came in to bring me food. When he spots me, those dark eyes skim me once again before he turns and strides out.

  “Follow,” is the bark of command that floats over his shoulder. I do as I am instructed, quickly and quietly making my way to the door. The boy reaches for my clothes, removing them from my hands.

  I wasn’t always this way. Meek. Blindly following orders. I had a backbone growing up. I even stood my ground.

  Some of the things I did for money would make your stomach turn, but I changed. I changed for Dillan. To be the perfect woman for him, and now look at where that’s gotten me.

  He never appreciated me anyway.

  Saying it’s all Dillan’s fault would be a lie.

  I changed for him, yes, because I wanted to make my husband happy.

  After we got married, we tried to have kids, and I stopped working at a law firm as a secretary to do all the things he wanted. Turns out, my body doesn’t like to hold babies.

  I miscarried every time.

  Four times, to be exact.

  Shattering.

  Devastating.

  Every single time I lost a little more of myself.

  When we realized it wasn’t going to happen for us, I started looking for work and found I could work from home. Dillan liked the idea because it meant I could still maintain the house and cook him dinner every night, plus prepare his stupid damn lunch.

  Before, I did neither.

  I never wanted to be a housewife—it was never my goal in life. Somehow, though, my life structure changed, and for some strange reason I allowed that metamorphosis to happen without even realizing it.

  That’s the problem, you see.

  I accepted it.

  I enabled Dillan to mold me into something I wasn’t with no hesitation.

  No uncertainty or doubt.

  Why? I trusted him.

  It cost a lot to try to fall pregnant—IVF is not cheap. And, eventually, we had to stop.

  He resented me for it.

  Resented the fact that I was the one who said no more.

  But I had to.

  I couldn’t keep crying myself to sleep, wondering what was wrong with me and how I couldn’t do the most natural thing in the world. Why my body decided it should not work correctly and bear his child.

  Dillan never told me it wasn’t me. He never once eased my worries. He agreed wholeheartedly with my thoughts.

  Then, somehow, I lost myself and became the person he wanted. Even that, though, was never enough for him. He started staying out late at night and came home smelling of women’s perfume that sure as shit was not mine.

  I’ve been with Dillan for over five years. Three of those were when I lost myself. The other two, I thought he was the one.

  Now? Well, now I’m not quite sure what I was thinking.

  Dillan Robok is most definitely not the man I love. Pity, it took me being sold for me to see that, but I also don’t want him dead.

  So, my decision, for now, is to follow the devil.

  Or let the devil destroy everything I know.

  Chapter Five

  Keir

  Quiet.

  Timid.

  Shy.

  Nothing at all like I’m used to.

  Women drop to the floor at my feet.

  They grovel at my shoes just to have me touch them.

  And believe me, my touch is fucking incendiary.

  But this one? I’m not sure she was worth the trade.

  Yes, she is fucking amazing to look at. It’s one of the only reasons I agreed to take her. Her honey-colored hair, those eyes that look at you as if you can solve a million puzzles in one go and those lips—big, full, soft lips.

  While raking my teeth over my mouth, I think about that dress that she was wearing, and how good it felt when I smacked her ass while she was wearing it. She has a full leg of tattoos, which surprised me when Dillan pointed her out. He’s so clean-cut and she’s just so, well, interesting. From her small delicate body that I want to break, tear apart and put back together to those doe eyes that sealed the deal.

  I hear her soft footsteps as she e
nters the room.

  My men are gathered around the table as she approaches. She pauses, stops, and her little doe eyes go wide. All six sets of eyes fixate on her, and I watch as she straightens her back and grips the silk of her dress in her hands a little tighter to hold the slit together.

  “You bought us a toy. You shouldn’t have.” Roberto licks his lips as he watches her, and all my other men stay silent as they wait for her reaction. She doesn’t move or make a sound. “Why don’t you come and sit next to me, sweetheart? We can eat together.” Roberto taps the chair next to him, and her eyes shoot to me. “Oh, don’t worry about him, I’ll protect you from the big bad wolf.”

  Joey chuckles at Roberto’s words and shakes his head. Joey is my younger brother, and he knows me better than anyone on this planet. He also knows no one could protect themselves from me if I want them dead.

  Not even him.

  “I think I’ll stand, thanks.” She shrugs her shoulders a little higher and places her arms tightly around her body, as if they’re a shield.

  “Sit,” I bark at her.

  All the chatter dies at my single word, and her eyes find mine before she decides to take a step in my direction. There is only one seat left, and it’s directly between Roberto and Harry. Roberto smiles happily that she has to sit next to him and smirks when she takes quiet steps to round his side of the table. Roberto pulls out her chair, and she reluctantly sits, placing her clasped hands in her lap.

  The servers come out to fill our glasses, and the chatter continues as it was before she stepped into the room.

  Joey taps the table to gain my attention, and I pull my gaze from her to see a glint in his eyes. “We have to move later, you know this. It’s the only way to keep business going.” I nod at Joey’s words. “Keir …” He says my name, making me turn to face him.

  “What?”

  “You really bought her?” he asks, confused. “He owed you money. You could have taken anything he owned.”

  “He owed me a life, so I took hers.” Dillan owed me—I gave him money for his businesses, and he never met the deadlines for payment. Depending on how I am feeling on any given day, I could decide to be lenient or ruthless. I was lenient with him the first time, but when I saw him at that club with her …

  … I knew I was going to be fucking ruthless.

  All Dillan thinks of is pussy and money. But he doesn’t think about money in the right way. He has gambling problems, and in return for that problem, he now owes me a considerable amount. I’m in business, and his debt is always more than what I lend, but that’s smart business and I am nothing if not a smart businessman. This business of ours has been in the family for generations, and it will continue that way into the future.

  “Are you sure that’s a smart move?” My eyes fall to Joey again, and he shakes his head and focuses on his hands resting on the table. “Sorry, boss.”

  I would have killed anyone else for those words, but Joey is my brother, and because of that, he gets chances.

  Chances that are rewarded to him and only him.

  Our mother lives in an apartment on the upper east side. I pay for everything, her cooks, and people to be at her beck and call, even though she has her own money. While my father is buried under ten feet of dirt where he belongs.

  The day I got that call, I was young, only twenty-one and not ready for the responsibility that came with it.

  Joey and I were at a strip joint, the day before I had to work with my father, and he made me shoot one of his men simply because he betrayed him. My father told me it was another lesson for me to learn and remember.

  You kill those who betrayed you.

  No second chances.

  Zero.

  My father tapped me on the shoulder, then told me to fuck off after I did what he asked.

  Joey knew, he was out the front waiting for me, and when I walked out, he declared we should go and get fucked up and watch some tits bounce.

  I was halfway through my second bottle with a girl on my lap and another trying to kiss my lips. These women knew who my family were and wanted a piece of the forbidden fruit. I didn’t care who they were, all I wanted was pussy.

  My father told me to fuck who I wanted but marry only who he said. So I did just that. Fucked every chance I could get. It was the only thing he didn’t dictate to me—where my cock went—that was until the day I got married. But even then what did it matter when others didn’t care.

  I’d never seen a healthy relationship—my own parents didn’t have one because my father controlled everything and that’s that.

  “Keir.” Joey pushed the stripper away from me, so I glanced at him over my shoulder—his face deadly serious. “We need to go.”

  I remember those words clear as day because his next words changed my life.

  “Papa’s dead.”

  I never shed one single tear at his funeral, and we never found the asshole who shot him. Even with all the resources at our disposal we couldn’t find them.

  My mother cried, even though she shouldn’t have.

  Everything my father was went to me. I became the king of the mafia, and my life was forever changed. And I wasn’t sure if people realized the extent of his teachings and if they were ready for another iron fist ruler.

  Glancing back at Joey he’s the only person I trust, but that doesn’t mean if I had to, I wouldn’t kill him.

  If he ever betrays me, he will join him under the ground.

  Two servers come out and place plates of food in front of us. Everyone at the table waits until I lift my fork before they do. The boss always eats first—it’s a sign of respect in this house.

  “Is there something wrong with your food?” I ask her as everyone starts to eat. She’s sitting there doing nothing, staring at the table in complete silence as if she didn’t even hear me.

  Everyone stops talking, and a hush fills the room as we wait for her to answer. My fingers squeeze the utensil in my hand hard enough to leave an imprint while I wait.

  “I …” She shakes her head. “Nothing is wrong,” she finishes. She picks up a piece of bacon and places it into her mouth. I watch as a look of disgust coats her face when she chews it. Everyone’s eyes are glued on her, confused by what’s going on, but I know exactly.

  “You’re a vegetarian?”

  When she doesn’t answer me, my fist comes down hard on the table. She jumps in her seat while everyone else remains still.

  “Yes. Yes, I am.”

  “Do you not like bacon? I have some real good meat for you to try later.” Roberto winks, and she jumps away from him and almost falls into Harry as everyone laughs at her reaction. Harry leans away, careful not to touch her as she rights herself.

  Tapping my hand on the table, a server comes out, and I nod to Sailor’s plate, which she quickly takes away.

  “Use your fuckin’ words next time,” I snarl at her.

  She drops her head down as everyone continues to eat, effectively ignoring her.

  She doesn’t make a sound, nor does she move for the rest of the meal.

  I can see why Dillan used her.

  It’s simple.

  She likes to be used.

  Maybe even abused.

  We shall see.

  Chapter Six

  Sailor

  After breakfast, I was escorted back to the room and told to stay there.

  I did.

  All day.

  I was brought fruit for lunch, and I somehow managed to sleep during the time between the meals. I’m sitting at the window, looking out at the water, when the door to the room is opened.

  “Miss.” I turn to see the young boy from earlier standing there. “Would you like to go to the beach?” he asks me.

  “Am I allowed?”

  “I was given permission to take you down if you want to go.”

  “I’ll stay, thank you.” I turn away from him and go back to staring out the window, my thoughts a jumbled mess as I continue thinking.


  Did Dillan love me?

  Or was I nothing to him?

  Was I always nothing?

  When you are alone with nothing but your thoughts, it makes you wonder about a lot of things. Makes you think of things you wouldn’t normally waste your time on when life’s distractions are there to occupy your mind instead.

  A feminine giggle reaches my ears, and the door to the room is pushed open. I stay in my spot at the window as a girl with long black hair enters wearing a short black dress. She walks in, spots me, then pauses. Her teeth basically show as she goes to growl at me but stops when Keir steps in behind her.

  “You have company,” she says to him. “You know how I hate to share you.” I look away and stare back out the window. I don’t want to be a part of this conversation or anything that may or may not happen behind me. Fuck that!

  “Get to your knees.” My back straightens at his command, but when I glance over my shoulder, I see he’s not talking to me but to her. His eyes are only on me, though. I look away, quickly, not wanting to be involved as I hear her undo his zipper.

  I’m not a nun, I know what she’s about to do, and a part of me wants to turn back around and watch, but the better part knows not to. Instead, I listen.

  “Look.” I know his voice is directed at me this time. I can feel it in my bones by the way he speaks—it’s cruel, deliberate, and meant to convey his power. Slowly, I move to face them, my eyes falling to the tiles before they reach her black heels, then slowly skate up her dress until I see his hand on the back of her head, directing her mouth on his cock. Her head bobs up and down, up and down, as she sucks him thoroughly.

  Those dark, wolf-like eyes stay on me. He smirks when I tighten my lips and give a look of disgust, like it’s the reaction he’s after, and then grips the girl’s hair tighter, slamming his cock into the back of her throat. I can hear her choking, but he doesn’t stop. He licks his lips, eyes going wild as he continues to fuck her mouth, and all the while, the woman on her knees grips his hips and takes whatever it is she can get.