For Him: The Complete Series

by Farrar, Marissa

  I’d fallen asleep after Bartow brought me back down to the room, but before I’d slept, I’d gone into the bathroom and turned on the shower and scrubbed myself raw. I didn’t cry, instead feeling nothing but hollow inside. Angel had told me to go along with whatever Torres wanted, and that it didn’t change anything between us, but that didn’t stop me feeling sick with guilt. I loved Angelo, and I didn’t want my body to belong to someone else. Even more than that, I didn’t want to have another man know how to pleasure me, and I hated that Torres was able to.

  He owned my body. I knew that, and it wasn’t only in a monetary sense. He knew what was going to get me off better than I knew myself.

  I didn’t understand why he’d sent me away when he had. Was it that he’d decided he only wanted me for himself, and was concerned the other men would have taken me?

  Or maybe this was one big head fuck to keep me on my toes. Try to kill me one day, and then make me orgasm and protect me the next.

  I woke briefly when the other women returned to the room. Quiet sobbing came from Grace’s bed, and a fresh wave of guilt washed over me. I didn’t know exactly what those men had done to her, but I could imagine. And it wasn’t as though it was the first time for her or Deanna or Kimmie, either. They’d been here for years, and the thought of those same years stretching ahead of me made me weep.

  The following morning, there was a strange atmosphere in the room. No one wanted to make eye contact with each other. Grace remained hidden beneath her comforter. Deanna lay on her bed, staring up at the ceiling, her face rigid and not speaking. Only Kimmie seemed to be in a good mood, though she shot me looks that could kill every time I caught her eye.

  I wasn’t used to not having anything to do, and I discovered it gave me far too much time to think. Living inside your head while locked inside this room wasn’t a good thing. Back at the compound, I’d been put to work. I hadn’t been left idle. While I hadn’t done the same work as the rest of the women, I’d had chores that had kept me occupied. I’d also had my own private space, where here I was almost always in the company of another person. I’d never appreciated that at the time. Hanging out the sheets in the cold of winter had left my hands red and chapped, but at least I’d been busy and not caged within these four walls. I’d been able to step outside and stare up at the sky and inhale fresh air into my lungs. I remembered how I’d been jealous of the easy company the other women back at the compound seemed to have with each other, as I’d always felt on the outside because I hadn’t been made to do what they did. Now I was one of them, and I didn’t want to be.

  I thought back to my simple acceptance of my fate growing up. If I’d had any concept that things were going to be like this, I’d have fought far harder. I’d have cried and begged and pleaded with the master to let me stay at the compound, even if it meant working like the other women did. But instead I’d floated toward my future, utterly unaware that it was even possible people lived like this. The compound had been all I’d ever known, and though I’d been told things were going to be different with Torres, I hadn’t really understood.

  I couldn’t just lie here, waiting for the hours to go by, my stomach a knot of anxiety at what Torres would want from me next. I was aware of the darts of hatred coming from Kimmie’s side of the room, too, and I wanted to escape them. I didn’t know why the other woman had taken such an instant disliking to me, considering we were all in the same situation, but there was no pretending I was mistaken.

  I slid my legs off the bed and crossed the room to the bathroom. I stepped inside and closed the door behind me and exhaled a long sigh, the air from deep in my lungs. I closed my eyes briefly, my chin wobbling, my nostrils flaring, as I fought against tears. I missed Angelo with a physical ache. I hadn’t known it was possible to miss someone so much, it literally felt like a piece had been carved out of my body. Did he feel the same way about me? Was he thinking of me now? Had his father hurt him for helping me? I wished I could ask Torres if Angelo was all right, but I knew even mentioning Angelo’s name would be a mistake.

  I still felt dirty from having had Torres’s mouth on me the night before. Though I’d showered only a matter of hours ago, I reached into the tub and turned the shower back on again. The water was cleansing, in more ways than one. It cleaned my body but also gave me room to clear my mind.

  I stepped beneath the hot, steamy water and lifted my face to the flow. Water soaked my hair, and I closed my eyes, letting it run over my face.

  A sudden movement came from beside me, and my eyes snapped open at the rustle of the shower curtain.

  But I didn’t get the chance to see anything, my vision blurry with water. A hand jammed against my throat, the back of my head slamming into the tiles behind me. Water drummed down over my mouth and nose, making it hard to breathe.

  I struggled against the hand; the wrist slender beneath my fingers. The shower water batted against my eyelids and lashes, obscuring my vision. Confusion and pain blinded my thoughts, and I struck out, not knowing my attacker’s identity. Though the wrist was slender, the hand small, the person it belonged to was frighteningly strong. It was female, though, of that I had no doubt. I could tell the difference between a male and a female arm.

  A face pressed up against mine, my attacker not even caring that she was getting wet. I caught glimpses of red hair quickly darkening beneath the flow of water.

  “Just because you were supposed to be some precious little virgin doesn’t mean you get to be his favorite,” my attacker hissed.

  I recognized the voice. “Kimmie!” I gasped.

  She shoved me again. I felt so exposed, naked when she was fully dressed, half drowning and struggling for breath.

  “I mean it.” Her hand around my throat tightened. “I’m the one he likes best! Me! You’d better remember that.”

  Her fingers finally released from my throat, and I dropped to my knees in the tub, thankful to no longer have my face under the water. I coughed and wheezed, my lungs burning and the back of my head throbbing from where she’d bashed it against the tiles.

  “I don’t want him, Kimmie,” I spluttered. “You’re welcome to him.”

  I didn’t understand why she was possessive over Torres. He was keeping us all prisoners here, to be used sexually whenever he liked, or whenever he decided he wanted to impress his guests. I didn’t know what I’d done to give Kimmie the idea that I would want to be Torres’s favorite. I’d rather he left me the hell alone.

  The bathroom door banged open, and Deanna stood in the doorway, her hands on her hips. “What are you doing, Kimmie? Leave the poor girl alone.”

  Kimmie scowled, water dripping from her hair. “I was just making sure the new girl knew her place.”

  “Get your fucked-up ass out of the bathroom, right now,” Deanna demanded, her deep brown eyes sparking with anger.

  Kimmie narrowed her eyes and screwed up her face at Deanna as she pushed out of the bathroom, but I was relieved she was leaving me alone. For the moment, at least.

  Deanna turned off the shower, and grabbed a towel and handed it to me. “You all right?”

  I nodded and rubbed at my throat. I’d probably feel like I was swallowing glass for the next couple of days, and I was sure the bruising would be visible, but other than being shaken up, I was fine.

  “Yeah, she just took me by surprise.”

  “She’s seriously messed up. She worships fucking Torres like he’s her lover, not her owner.”

  I wrapped the towel around my body. “Was she like this with you and Grace?”

  “No. I think it must be the whole virgin thing that’s set her off—thinking that you were brought here to be something special for him.”

  “I never asked to be. I was sold to him at ten years old.”

  “She doesn’t care about that.” She thought for a moment. “In fact, don’t even tell her. If she finds out Torres waited eight years for you, it’ll make her even worse.”

  I shuddered at the though
t. It was bad enough knowing there were men who wanted to hurt us on the other side of that door, but to have a threat come from inside the room as well made me feel as though I wasn’t safe anywhere.

  A pang of longing for Angelo struck me. I missed him so much. I didn’t want to feel sorry for myself, but a painful lump balled in my already sore throat, and I choked back a sob. I’d have given anything to have him pull me into his arms, hold me against his chest, stroking my hair while telling me everything was going to be all right. I missed the other women, too—Yolanda and Marie, and even Bianca. I wished I could go into Yolanda’s room and find them all getting ready for an event so I could join in. I’d sit at Yolanda’s dressing table while she pinned up my hair, and the other women would apply makeup to my face.

  But my life at the compound hadn’t been real. For the most part, I’d been treated like a child, and I hadn’t been forced to take part in sex with strangers every day like the other women were. I’d been wrapped up in my obsession with Angelo, using his presence like a security blanket against my fear of the rest of the world. The thought of going to live with Torres had never felt real to me—it was like something I knew was far in the distance, it most likely would never happen, and my utter lack of experience meant I was unable to picture in my mind that it would be any different than living at the compound. I’d wanted to make the master happy and proud of me, so going willingly to Elliot Torres was simply something that had been expected of me, and so was what I would do.

  But then the master had pushed Angel and me together, and my tiny world had imploded.

  I had no choice but to go back into the other room with Kimmie. I literally had nowhere else I could go, and I couldn’t hide in the bathroom for the rest of my life. Each time I coughed, it hurt my throat. Did I need to be truly worried about the girl? Would she take this even farther? Would she keep trying until I was dead, removing me from the equation?

  I followed Deanna back into the room, the towel held firmly to my breasts, my wet hair dripping down my back. Deanna stood in the middle of the room, dividing the two of us.

  She pointed a finger to where Kimmie sat on her bed, apparently unperturbed by what had taken place.

  “You stay on your side,” she told Kimmie. “You’re not to come within a couple of feet of Catalina. Got it?”

  That narrow-eyed smirk again. “Whatever.”

  I quickly threw on some underwear and one of the dresses I’d been provided with. Then I towel-dried my hair and sat back on the bed, pushing myself to the farthest end, my back up against the wall.

  “Are you okay, Catalina?” Grace asked from the opposite side of the room.

  I gave her a tight smile and nodded. “Sure, I’m fine. Just a little misunderstanding, that’s all.”

  I could feel Kimmie’s gaze on me, and I shrank in on myself, wishing I could disappear.

  Chapter Twelve

  I’d hidden the files of papers and the briefcase, together with Paul’s gun, beneath my bed.

  It was morning now, and time was running out. Even if my father didn’t look in the safe today, someone was going to start asking after Paul. I doubted anyone would go into the roof space and find the body, but his disappearance was going to look suspicious.

  I needed to go through the papers I’d taken and get the briefcase open. I still didn’t know if it would contain anything useful, but it had been locked up inside a safe, inside a locked room for a reason, and I needed to check.

  Trouble was that the compound was awake now, and I would be missed if I didn’t carry on as usual. I needed time to go through everything, and it was time I didn’t have.

  I went down and ate breakfast, avoiding eye contact with anyone. I’d killed Paul, and I felt like I had the truth of what I’d done written all over me. I knew people were going to start asking questions about his whereabout sooner rather than later, and I prayed my guilt didn’t show up on my face. I wasn’t a killer—or at least I hadn’t been—but I knew now that I had it in me to do whatever it took.

  Shortly after breakfast, my father caught up with me.

  “Angelo? Have you seen Paul?”

  I’d known it was coming, but still my stomach sank.

  I shook my head. “No. Not since yesterday.”

  “The asshole has done a runner. No one’s seen him since last night.”

  I frowned. “Are all the women here?”

  I wanted to divert attention from myself, giving Paul a reason for wanting to run. As I’d learned for myself, the main reason anyone fucked up around here was because of the women. Seemed everyone but my father was capable of losing his head over a girl.

  “Yeah, all present and accounted for.” He paused and twisted his lips as he thought. “His phone is dead, too.”

  “But his car is here,” I pointed out.

  “So, he must be on foot, or he had someone pick him up during the night. He’d better not have betrayed me, or I’ll make him pay for it.” Silas Cassidy’s voice was hard with anger.

  “Who else was on guard last night? Did they not hear anything?”

  He shook his head. “It was Rufus, and no, he said he didn’t hear a thing, but my guess is that the son-of-a-bitch was sleeping on the job.”

  I thought he was probably right since Rufus hadn’t heard my tussle with Paul or the racket I must have made hiding the body.

  He hesitated. Was he wondering if he could trust me yet or not?

  “I’m going to take the rest of the men out and see if there’s anything suspicious in the surrounding area—tire tracks or some sign that someone was here who shouldn’t have been. I assume I can at least leave you to watch over the women.”

  I nodded, keeping my expression serious. “Of course.”

  He jabbed a finger in my direction. “Don’t disappoint me, Angelo.”

  I almost wanted to laugh. If only he knew just how much I planned on letting him down. But I didn’t even care anymore. The man he had molded me into no longer existed. The framework for that man had shattered the night I’d run with Catalina, and when Torres had taken her, I’d had to rebuild it into something different again. Any love or respect or loyalty I felt toward this man was gone. Now, at my heart, I felt only a cold hatred.

  He pursed his lips. “Good. We won’t be gone long, and we’ll be close by. I have the keys to the vehicles, so don’t get any ideas.”

  I had Paul’s car keys in my room, but I hadn’t yet discovered where Catalina was. Besides, I couldn’t just drive off, even if I did know. My father would notice me gone and alert Torres immediately. I wasn’t going to put Catalina’s safety at risk.

  Them being away from the compound would allow me time to go through the items I’d taken from the office, however, and that was a gift in itself.

  “I’ll make sure everything runs smoothly while you’re gone,” I replied.

  “The gates will be locked behind us, too.”

  “Naturally.” I ducked my head in a nod.

  I wanted them to leave so I could get on with what I needed to do. I’d never intended to kill Paul, but it seemed his death was going to buy me some much-needed time.

  I sensed the gazes of some of the women on me, silent questions about what was happening in their eyes. I couldn’t tell them anything, of course. I needed to act as normal as possible.

  “Go back in your rooms,” I shouted at them, “and stay there.”

  My father nodded, seemingly approving of my display. He motioned to Bruno and Rufus to leave, to search the surrounding grounds for some sign to tell them what had happened to Paul. I knew they wouldn’t find anything. Paul was much closer to home.

  I waited for them to pull the gates shut behind them, locking us all in. Not that it mattered to me.

  Quickly, I turned from the courtyard and marched back through the house. Perhaps I should have felt worse about taking Paul’s life, but I knew what kind of man he was. He was no better than my father. I rid the world of another rodent, that was all.

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nbsp; I reached my room and quickly bent to pull everything out from beneath the bed.

  I flicked through the folders of papers, my gaze flitting up and down each sheet. They were invoices, bank transfers. All important paperwork.

  I stopped suddenly. Catalina’s name. A courier company.

  The date was a couple of weeks before she’d been due to leave the compound. It seemed my father had sent something for her to have at Torres’s place with her. Had it been something personal, perhaps? Or just some clothes so she’d have had something familiar there for her when she arrived? The invoice only had that it was a package to be delivered, not the actual items. My stomach twisted strangely. I thought she’d been sent with nothing, but my father had planned ahead to make sure she had something of her own there. However badly he’d treated her by selling her to a man like Torres and sending her away, a small part of him had cared about her comfort.

  Of course, I doubted Catalina would have been given whatever gifts he’d sent for her, not now that we’d betrayed both him and Torres. I didn’t think Catalina would have been rewarded with many comforts at all.

  My heart beat hard, almost unable to believe I might have found what I was looking for. The address was several hours’ drive from here.

  I stared at the address, committing it to memory, and then folded the piece of paper and tucked it into my pocket. Should I put the paperwork back in the safe? Now I had the address, I didn’t intend to stay here much longer.

  I caught sight of the briefcase from the corner of my eye. What was inside it?

  Rolling my thumb along the combination lock, I changed the numbers to the ones I’d previously tried that had given me access to the safe. None of them worked.

  “Fuck it.”

  I no longer cared about being subtle. Reaching into my bedside drawer, I fished around among all the old coins, pieces of paper, old chargers, and numerous other random items until I found what I was looking for—and old penknife I’d had since childhood. I set the case in my lap and set to work jimmying off the combination lock.