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“Yes,” Cameron replied without remorse, without any shred of emotion at all.
“Why?” He’d only seen me that first time in the alley. Did he feel sorry for me, or want to hurt me as Ricky had? But as that thought played through my mind, I knew that wasn’t the case. He coul
d have done far worse than Ricky, could have denied helping me if he wanted to harm me.
He stared at me with this indifferent expression on his face. “You…intrigue me.”
I intrigued him? Like some kind of pet he saw in the window and just had to take home? That’s what I am to him now, his pet, his plaything. He’s known about me, been following me since before I went into his office, since before I begged him for help.
I didn’t know what to make of that, if I should even put any stock into it at all. Did it really matter in the long run?
He reached out and ran his thumb across my cheek, no doubt smudging the blood that covered me, painting my flesh with what my life was now. “You’ve never looked more beautiful to me than you do right now, with the reality of what you've gotten yourself into smeared across your face.” His voice was deep, commanding. He moved his thumb down to my mouth, painting my lips with the violence that surrounded us, with the blood of the man who would have destroyed me. “I’m going to open you up to my world, little girl.” He lowered his head so we were now breathing the same air. “I’m going to show you what it means to be owned by the very devil himself.”
CHAPTER TEN
THE CAR RIDE to wherever Cameron was taking me was done in silence. The only sounds I let penetrate were that of the vehicle moving forward and the rush of the wind that came through a crack in the window when I pushed the automatic button and rolled it down. I didn’t need that rush of air, didn’t need to make it seem like I was escaping either, even if I was. I wanted something to drown out the noise inside of me, the confusion and screaming that was driving me crazy.
I don’t know how long we drove, but it had been hours. I was lost in my own thoughts, but I was aware of my surroundings enough to know I was going far away. Maybe that was for the best. Maybe leaving the grim horror of my world behind was what I needed. I was tired, but I couldn’t fall asleep, couldn’t allow that freedom to take me away, even for a little while.
It had been dark, late when we’d left my apartment, but now the sun was starting to rise, the sky being painted a pink hue, maybe promising a new beginning. But who was I kidding? I didn’t have a new start anywhere. I had a future that would be laid out, set forth, planned, expected.
Cameron would control everything, and as much as I should loathe that and instinctively want to fight it, a part of me welcomed it. A side of me that didn’t want to think or deal with anything, not even myself, would embrace the control I’d given him.
The car started to slow, and I turned and glanced out Cameron’s window. I could see him watching me out of the corner of my eye, but I wouldn’t look at him, wouldn’t give him that power yet. When the vehicle came to a complete stop, I stared at the massive home in front of us. I still felt Cameron watching me, maybe appraising what I thought or how I felt. Right now I was just numb.
“Welcome home for the next two weeks.”
I did look at him then, his voice deep, making me feel like I was on a wire, these flames barely licking at me from below.
The back door was opened, and a rush of wind blew in, shifting my hair over my shoulders, having the smell of blood rising up, this metallic scent that made me sick and think about what we’d left behind. Cameron got out of the car first, but I sat there, not sure what to say, how to actually move.
I was frozen in place, my mind a whirlwind, my thoughts jumbled together. Cameron leaned forward, bracing his hand on the frame of the door, his focus trained right on me.
“The sooner you come inside, the sooner you’ll be acclimated to the situation.”
His voice was smooth, maybe even coaxing. I wasn’t a fool to think he would be gentle, that he’d give me time. I wasn’t stupid enough to think he cared about my feelings whatsoever.
Of course I had no choice. I’d agreed to be his if he saved me. He’d held up his end of the deal, and now I needed to as well. In the end I reached out, slipped my hand into his, and allowed him to help me out of the SUV. I’d follow through with my end. But what frightened me most of all was the fact that fear wasn’t the only thing I felt.
Arousal burned in the deepest depths of me as well.
I didn’t have much time to take in the house once outside the vehicle. It was big, with giant white pillars in front, the lighting pointing to the double front doors, and the windows grand with this filigree design covering the glass. It was an elaborate, extraordinary prison, one meant to keep others out, maybe even keep some in. I noticed several men stationed close to the house, and knew there were probably more hidden in the shadows. I didn’t know much about Cameron, nothing really, but I had a feeling I’d learn a lot about him in my time here.
We entered the house, and a man in a dark suit greeted Cameron. They spoke low, too low for me to hear what was being said, but I was too focused on my surroundings anyway. Dark granite, hardwood, and a crystal chandelier made up the foyer.
There was a staircase in front of us, one of those like I’d seen in Gone with the Wind, which started on both sides, curved upward, and branched off in opposite directions. I’d never been around so many lavish things, such taste and expanse.
I turned in a half circle, gasping slightly when I realized Damien stood right behind me. His dark eyes and aloofness set me on edge. This man was dangerous; that was clear. He might not show emotions, might not even experience them, but what he had was loyalty to Cameron.
It was that loyalty that made a man violent, willing to do anything and everything to ensure the situation went exactly how it was supposed to. That went a long way in ensuring I was kept in line, even if I had no plans on making things difficult. After two weeks I’d move on, live my life—or try to at least.
Damien stayed silent, his composure, his ramrod stance, bringing this frigid chill to my body. The tattoos I could see that crept up his neck made him seem even more imposing, even more menacing. No wonder Cameron kept him close. This man screamed danger.
“This way,” Cameron said deeply, softly. I tore my gaze from Damien and followed Cameron up the stairs, the carpet beneath the hardwood making my footsteps light, silent. This home seemed to go on forever, and I found myself noticing the lack of warmth here. No, this wasn’t a home. This was a place where Cameron stayed.
We continued down a long hallway, the few pictures I saw seeming dark and gloomy, depressing and frightening. Splashes of red and black, twisted birds with their beaks open, crying out. I felt like those birds, like those paintings. I was trapped, my world seeming bleak and one-dimensional.
I had no escape, not just because I was now with Cameron but because my world before him had been a dead end. I’d been trapped in my own roundabout, going around until that’s all I knew.
He finally stopped at a set of polished dark wooden doors, the grain moving vertically, the gloss almost blinding. When Cameron pushed the doors open, turned on the light, and stepped aside, I didn’t hesitate to walk in, to accept this with open arms.
Open arms? Who am I kidding? I’m accepting this on my hands and knees, crawling, submitting, pleading for the answer to come.
And it would come, in some form, in some way. And it would be Cameron saying the words to me, telling me what the future held.
I pushed all thoughts out of my head. Having a clean slate, a white wall was how I would manage, how I would keep my sanity.
The room was large, the bed to my left imposing. Dark wood, fixtures, and everything in between told me this was a room that held no warmth, no life. The curtains were partially opened, but I couldn’t see outside, not with the sun barely rising and the glare on the glass. I stared at my reflection, distant, blurry. It’s how I felt on the inside too.
Cameron shut the door, the click resounding, as if sealing my fate, wax on an envelope. I watched him, all hard muscle bunching under his expensive suit. His tattoos peeking out from under the cuffs and collar were the only indication of the monster who lay beneath all that refinery.
“You’ll sleep in here, with me.?
? His stance screamed he wasn’t about to bend to this, that he wouldn’t give me an out. “The bathroom is there,” he said and pointed to a partially closed door to the right. “Clothing in your size is already in the dresser and armoire. You’ll shower, eat, and then sleep.”
He wouldn’t start this now, wouldn’t break me before the sun fully rose? I saw the way he lifted his brow. Were my thoughts projected on my face? Had I said those words out loud?
“I’m not a good man, Sofia, but I won’t be a bastard…not at first. Now, bathe, dress, and food will be here when you’re done. I have some work to do, so you’ll have to eat and sleep alone for this first time…” He moved closer to me, and I swear my heart jumped to my throat, trying to suffocate me, strangle me. “But for the next two weeks, Sofia…” He reached out and cupped my chin, tilting my head back, making me look into his dark, bottomless eyes. “For the next two weeks you’ll be mine.” I felt him smooth his thumb over my jawline. “When I’m done with you, walking will seem impossible.”
Although I’d known he wouldn’t go easy on me, I just hoped I came out of this alive, that I was still breathing in the literal sense.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
FOR A MOMENT, just a second, just a sliver of time, I didn’t know where I was, didn’t have any worries or cares. It was that moment right before consciousness, right before light dawned on me and I remembered my reality, when I drifted through this pleasant feeling. That second right before being fully awake.
That’s how I felt that first time waking up in Cameron’s bed, surrounded by his things, smelling his scent saturating the air.
I stretched, the sheet moving along my body, the silk of the nightgown I’d found in the dresser after I got out of the shower feeling smooth. Everything he’d gotten for me, every outfit, every stitch of clothing seemed intimate, handpicked by him. Although that was most likely not the case. I’m sure he’d had someone do it, paid them to pick out the silk nighties, the lace bras and panties, and the hundred other outfits that lined the drawers and shelves.
