It’s strange how safe and secure I feel in this place I shouldn’t ever call home.
The guy who tried to claim me as his own is dead, and the other one is probably on his way to meet the same fate. The Company, whatever it is that Easton called them, will probably dispose of the bodies and deal with the aftermath while Easton continues his business as though nothing ever happened.
His staff must be used to this, but I’m not. No one’s ever killed for me, yet Easton Van Buren didn’t think twice to make that decision. He rescued me from an even bigger threat, shaking up everything I thought I knew about him. Twisting my feelings for him until even I don’t recognize them anymore.
Am I truly thankful to this man who saved me from an even worse fate? Or is that the Stockholm Syndrome talking while one of his assistants undresses me?
“You’re so cold,” Jill says, peeling the bathrobe off my naked body and helping me into the tub. “This should warm you up nicely.”
I sit down in the hot water and clench my legs together while she throws my bathrobe into the laundry bag. I hope she sets the thing on fire. “Please … don’t bring that bathrobe back. Ever,” I say, and she looks at me as though I’ve lost my mind. “I don’t want to wear it ever again.”
“Oh … of course,” she says, adding a soft smile. “I can get you a new one. No problem.”
“Thank you,” I mumble, and I close my eyes and take a deep breath, trying to keep everything together. I’m still numb from what I just witnessed and experienced. Even as Jill leaves me alone for a second to take care of the bathrobe and grab new clothes for me, I can’t seem to let my guard down. I can’t break apart, not here in this house. Instead, I suck it up and push back the tears while staring wistfully at the wall in front of me.
Jill comes back and helps me wash. I don’t need the help, but my body is not responding to any of my commands either. It’s as though I’m nailed to the tub, to the heat circulating my body, trying to bring me back from the dead.
I almost escaped. Almost. And then I failed. Miserably.
The thought of how freedom literally slipped through my fingers breaks me physically, emotionally, and mentally. And on top of that, one of his guards tried to take advantage of me in the most despicable way. And then he died. Bang. One shot was all it took to end someone’s life, and Easton did it as if it meant nothing to him. For me.
A strange mixture of sadness, disgust, and serenity flows through my veins. Sadness for the death of that man who disgustingly tried to take me … and the serenity that followed when Easton came to my rescue.
Did he know I was there, or did he hear my cries? Could he have seen me escape? Is he upset that I did?
My brain takes a second to reboot, and I chastise myself for allowing Jill to pull me back into the mansion. I should’ve pushed her away, should’ve fought tooth and nail for my freedom, yet I went inside like a placid little lamb ready for slaughter. All because of the way Easton talked to me. With that smooth, bossy voice of his, he can make me do whatever he wants.
I shake my head and look away. I don’t want to see anyone right now, not even Jill. All I want is to be left alone, but she won’t let me. Of course not, not after I decided I was going to jump out the window. They’ll think twice before letting me out of their sight. Fuck. I should’ve thought of all this sooner and figured out a better plan.
“Do you hate it here that much?” Jill suddenly asks as she runs a sponge along my arms. When she reaches my hand, I pull back.
“I’m a prisoner,” I reply. “No one ever wants to have their freedom taken away.”
She bites her lip and continues to wash me despite my hesitance to open up to her. She’s his assistant, after all. She likes him, obeys him … can I even trust her? I have so many questions, and she’s the only one I can ask.
“Do you think he’ll punish me for trying to escape?”
She mulls it over for a few seconds while narrowing her eyes. “I don’t think so.” She pauses. “But he is mad at you, that I do know.”
I sigh out loud.
“Don’t worry. He’s not as cruel as you may think.”
“Right …” I reply.
She keeps glorifying him as if he’s so great, but she’s seen what he’s capable of too. Why does she think that’s all okay? Doesn’t she see the darkness in him?
“What about you? Why do you even help him do all of this? What do you gain?”
She sighs but smiles, nonetheless. “Mr. Van Buren helped me when I was in a tough position. I had nowhere to go, no one to ask for help, and he … took me in, and gave me a job and a place to stay. I owe him my life.” She clears her throat, and her cheeks flush a little. “If I have to be honest, I’m a little jealous of you.”
I frown as she starts to clean my nails. “Why? Who on earth would anyone ever want to be forced to marry a man?”
“I’m sorry, that was rude of me,” she murmurs, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “I just mean that I’m very lucky he gave me a job. Mr. Van Buren can be nice if you let him.” She’s beaming as if someone lit her up and sent her off in a freaking air balloon. That kinda happy.
I narrow my eyes. Is she … in love with him?
“Well, anyway, don’t mind me,” she says, brushing her thoughts off as she grabs a towel. “I’m only an assistant trying to do her best. And if you’d let me, I can be of great help to you.”
“Right …” I mutter, getting up.
“Just don’t ever think about trying to escape again,” she adds jokingly, but I don’t find it funny at all.
“Don’t you feel bad about any of this?” I ask as she drapes the towel around me.
“I always try to see the good side of things. And Mr. Van Buren has many. It just takes him a while to show them,” she says, nodding. “But if you give him time, he’ll show his true colors. Trust me, you’ll warm up to him in no time, I promise.”
I find that hard to believe. In fact, she sounds pretty much delusional to me. “Is he keeping you captive here too or something?” I ask as I get out of the tub and dry myself off.
She laughs out loud. “No, of course not, silly.”
“But you’re never allowed off the property, right?”
“I work for him 24/7. I can go off the property but not much.”
“Then you’re as much a prisoner as I am,” I retort.
“Oh, no. Mr. Van Buren views me as his most trusted assistant. It’s why I told him you escaped.” She tries to swallow those last words, but it’s too late. The awkward silent stare we share feels as if it lasts an eternity, like lightning prickling all around us.
“I-I …” she mutters.
“Don’t,” I say, snatching the second towel from her hands so I can wrap it around my head. “Just don’t.”
“I’m sorry.” She looks down at her feet as if she’s unable to look me in the eyes. “Please, don’t make me choose. It isn’t fair.”
As I walk past her, I whisper into her ear, “Life’s not fair.”
I sink down onto my bed and cocoon myself in the blanket, hiding beneath the fabric so I can be alone for a little while. I can hear her shuffle around the room, probably cleaning up after herself or trying to cover up my crimes … I don’t care. If she hadn’t come into my room and screeched her lungs out, maybe I could’ve gotten to that gate before those assholes grabbed me. I’d be free by now.
Instead, I’m stuck here because she did what she thought she needed to do … choose him.
It’s always him.
Everywhere I go, everything I do … it all revolves around him, and he knows it. He probably revels in it too. I wonder if he’s going to punish me for what I did. If he’ll punish her too for not stopping me in time.
A sudden click of the door alerts me to the fact she’s left the room, so I lower my blanket to confirm. Finally, I’m alone. The first thing I do is check the windows. Of course, they’re all locked again, and the bobby pin has disappeared. She must’ve found it and took it with her. Dammit.
I roll back onto the bed and gaze at the ceiling, wondering if there will ever be another chance or if that was my last … and if I’ll always feel this alone.
Jill is the only one I can talk to, but she’s not a friend even though I sometimes wish she could be. But with one foul look and a judging voice, I chased her away. Maybe I was too harsh on her. After all, she was only trying to help me.
But she also destroyed my only chance at escaping too.
I grab the pillow and hug it tight as the tears begin to roll down my cheeks again. Fuck. I never used to cry this much, but I can’t seem to stop. Not even as Jill comes back inside with a cup of steaming tea and places it on the nightstand beside my bed.
“Here, drink this. It’ll warm you up,” she says with a gentle smile. She seems genuinely worried about me, and the way she bites her lip when she looks my way tells me she’s conflicted. Just as I am.
“Thank you,” I mutter, smiling back.
I don’t know why I smile.
I know I’m not the only one who doubts her own decisions.
And that we can all use forgiveness every once in a while.
Easton
I spend the entire day pacing around my office, arranging to get rid of a dead body and one live one without too much notice. I didn’t expect to have to shoot one of my employees and have the other one taken away, but I also didn’t expect them to do something this heinous.
I should’ve done more thorough research into their backgrounds, should’ve done more to prevent what happened to Charlotte. They touched her; I just know it. Even though she says they didn’t, I could see it in her eyes, the pain seeping right through them. It made my heart bleed to see her like that, made me wish I could take the pain away.
But I can’t. Nothing I do will ever fix what I’ve broken or make this okay.
Enraged, I pick up a glass of rum and chuck it at the fire, roaring out loud.
“Sir, maybe you should rest a little,” Jill says as she comes into my room to clean up the mess.
I close my eyes and massage my forehead with my fingers. “I know. Thank you, Jill.”
“You don’t have to pretend to be kind to me,” she says as she picks up the shards and puts them in the trash. “I know you’re upset and rightfully so.”
“She almost escaped,” I say through gritted teeth. “And not only that but one of my own employees also tried to …” My throat jams up. I can’t even fucking think the words, let alone speak them, without bile rising. I slam my fist on the table. “Fuck!” Jill touches my arm, but I push her away. “Don’t touch me!”
She backs off and continues to clean my table and the glass off the floor. Her silence injects poison into my veins, filling me with that same guilt I thought I could temper when I first took Charlotte as my own.
The more I’m around Charlotte, the more I’m losing my hardened shell. It’s as though the icy barrier I built around my heart melts away as time passes. But why? None of this should affect me the way it does, yet when I look Charlotte in the eyes, all I want to do is protect her forever. Kiss her, hug her, hold her tight, and never let her go.
But she’s only a goddamn prize. A bodily exchange for money. Something I can use against my number one enemy to make him cry for mercy. These conflicting feelings make me do irrational things like throw glasses at the wall and yell at my assistant. Then again, she was the one who let Charlotte run in the first place.
“Could you have stopped her?” I ask Jill.
She gets up from the floor, and says, “No. She was already out the window when I found her.”
“How did she manage to open it?”
Jill bites her lip and fumbles in her pockets for a few seconds, but then she mutters, “I … don’t know.”
I frown, gazing at her as she pulls her hands from her pockets again and continues to tidy up after me even though she’s already picked up all the glass.
Something’s up. “Are you sure?”
“She must’ve found something to pry it open with,” Jill says, clearing her throat as she makes a neat stack of my papers and dusts down the chair.
“Right …” I narrow my eyes. “Make sure you remove anything from her room that shouldn’t be there especially things she can use to break out.”
“Of course, sir.” She nods, scrubbing everything in my study with a damp cloth, including my glass cabinets, as if she didn’t just do this yesterday. But I have no time or patience for her conscience to suddenly butt in. I’m much more worried about Charlotte right now. Maybe I should go see her.
I take a deep breath. “Do you think I should go to her?”
With the cloth still in her hand, she turns around. “That depends …”
“On what?”
She pauses and rubs her lips together. “Well, she was scared you might punish her.”
I redo the buttons at the top of my shirt and readjust my tie. “Nonsense.”
At first, when I found out she’d escaped, I wanted to. Desperately. I wanted to scold her, force her on her knees, and take her ass without mercy. I wanted her to beg for forgiveness.
Until I saw her face and the desperation that marred it … and then I realized all I wanted was to take the pain away.
“Apparently, she believes you will,” Jill says, and I can’t help but notice the patronizing tone.
“Careful there, Jill,” I retort. She may be my closest assistant, but she’s still only that … an assistant. She was hired to do whatever I wish. Nothing more, nothing less.
She blushes and immediately looks away. “Of course, sir. It’s just that … After what happened to her, she might’ve already learned her lesson, don’t you think?”
She’s so mouthy these days. I’m sure she means well, and I appreciate her honesty, but Charlotte is leaving a mark on her.
I look at the clock and realize it’s already nine p.m. Nick told me Charlotte refused her dinner even though I would’ve liked her to dine downstairs with me. She’s probably still shaken up from the ordeal. And now she’s all alone in her room …
“I’m going to see her,” I say, walking off before Jill can refute my words.
As my hand hovers over her bedroom door handle, I close my eyes and take a deep breath. I can hear her sniffling from the other side. She’s crying.
Without hesitation, I open the door. It’s already dark outside, and her room doesn’t seem light. She’s in her bed with the covers pulled up to her nose. But her eyes are closed.
I approach her and look. She’s asleep … crying. With no one here to console her.
Does she know she’s crying?
Would she mind if I came to comfort her?
I crawl into bed with her and wrap my arm around her, burying my head in the nook of her neck. She’s soft and smells of roses and fresh drops of rain, and it reminds me of my younger years, of a time when neither of us was stained by the pain of our past. A time when maybe, just maybe, we could’ve had more than a loveless marriage.
