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I focus on the anger I feel toward my father and for what happened to my sister. I'm angry at her for lying to me for years, when she could have come clean but she said Percy would have killed me if she told the truth. My mind is a clusterfuck and I can’t seem to think straight right now. How the hell did my life get so fucked up? Sure, I was alone most of the time and confined to the house but I grew to find comfort in solitude. When River would visit it would brighten my whole day and put a real smile on my face. Thinking about her has my heart aching, she was my hero. I wrap my arms around myself and move to the window that overlooks the street. I see men walking up and down the footpath, trying to look natural but it’s obvious to me they are Knox’s soldiers.
“I need answers.” I keep my back to him and ignore his presence. “I have to know the truth about that night.”
Scoffing, I shake my head. “You’re not asking my permission, you’re telling me what you’re doing so why bother coming in here?”
“I know you need to know the truth as well.” He sounds closer but I still refuse to face him. He’s nothing but a gangster and a liar, no better than my father. I refuse to be the victim. I won’t allow either of these fucking men to control my life. I may need answers but I can find out the truth on my own, I can’t trust either of them to be honest with me.
“Don’t try to make what you did seem right by masking it like you are doing me a favor, from the moment you kidnapped me and shot my friend?—”
“Who is alive and fine by the way.”
I ignore his interruption and carry on. “You could have come clean, you should have told me the truth.”
“Fine.” I feel his breath hit the back of my neck and I shiver, my body wanting to lean into him but I fight against the pull I feel toward him. “You want the truth, here it is. When I took you, I planned to break you mentally, emotionally and then physically. I wanted you to hate yourself so fucking much that you would take a blade to your own throat and save me the trouble.” I won’t lie, that thought has crossed my mind many times over the last couple of years as I sink deeper into the dark hole of depression.
“Do it then,” I force out through clenched teeth.
Gripping my shoulders, he forces me to face him. I glare at the bastard. “Oh, I had fucking planned to and even began the process until your sister told us a story. I paid it no mind until I saw the look in your eyes as I was about to fuck you.” Disgust rolls through me at the memory of his hands on me and the way he used my own body against me. His fingers trail down my arms slowly. “After that, I started to think maybe her story did hold some merit.”
His hands find their way under my shirt and when he touches my bare skin, I suck in a sharp breath, then try to pull free of his hold but he doesn’t allow it.
“Let me go.”
“I did but your father broke the deal I made with your sister.”
Ignoring how his hands trail up my body like he has the right to touch me, I ask, “What deal?”
The moment his hands skim the sides of my breasts I gulp and his eyes darken. “I would never seek vengeance against you so long as your father never steps out of line again and you remain out of my city for good. You were only granted that mercy because of who your sister was to us. Killing you meant going through her and I couldn’t deal with losing another person I loved.” His thumbs skim over my nipples. I shudder under his touch and try to remain focused and remember that I hate him but it’s hard to do when he’s teasing me like this.
“What did my father do to make you hate him so much?” His eyes darken further as he yanks me flush against him. I can feel his hard cock through his jeans pressed against my stomach.
“He tried to take you from me. You were supposed to tell me what he did that night but you never made it to my house.” I feel the throbbing pain begin in the back of my skull and slam my eyes closed, willing the pain to stay away. He’s right, I do need answers. I gasp when I feel his lips grazing the side of my neck and snap my eyes open.
“What are you doing?” I breathe out.
“Distracting you,” he says, like it's supposed to make sense to me.
“No, I don’t want you,” I growl. He kisses the side of my neck before drawing back and resting his forehead against mine.
“Your mind doesn’t want you to want me but I guarantee you that your pussy wants to repeat my cock slamming inside it.”
“Does not! You already stole my virginity?—”
“I didn’t steal shit, Lakeland.” The anger that laces his tone gives me pause, his gaze bores into mine. “You gave me that gift years ago, it was already mine and I cherished it because you gave it to me. What happened between us earlier was a reminder. You can call me a bastard and lie to yourself about hating me and you may just believe it, but your body doesn’t because it knows it belongs to me.”
“I don’t belong to anyone.”
“I’ll let you believe that for now. When I get the copy of your medical records and they say what I think they might, all plans are out the fucking window and I’m taking down every motherfucker that tore you from me. I’m a cold heartless son of a bitch and you’ve seen firsthand the lengths I’m willing to go through to get what I want.” I open my mouth to argue but he pushes on. “We’re both covered in blood and need to shower, you try to fight me on this and I won’t be gentle. Be a good girl and do as you’re fucking told and I’ll reward you.” The ache in the base of my skull begins to beat again hearing him call me a good girl.
My nostrils flare, I’m ready to give him a piece of my mind until he pinches my nipples between his fingers, drawing a shocked gasp from me. He uses that to his advantage and slams his lips down on mine, his tongue slipping inside my mouth with ease. I plan to bite the fucking thing until the taste of him overrides my senses and I find myself kissing him back eagerly, only for the bastard to jerk back and smirk at me.
“Shower. Now.”
“Argh, you’re such a fucking ass,” I snap as I stalk toward the closed door on the opposite side of the room.
“That’s the closet.” Humor is thick in his tone as I slam the fucking door closed and glare at his stupid smirking face. “Bathroom is across the hall, it’s a shared one.” If I had something to throw at his bipolar ass I would, his mood changes are giving me whiplash. I stalk across the hall to the bathroom and try to slam the door behind me. He catches it as he enters and closes it behind himself.
“Get out,” I snarl. He ignores me as he flicks the lock, then yanks his shirt over his head. The sight of all his ink distracts me. I run my eyes over it greedily but that seems to annoy him.
