Damage control meaning one thing …
Darren then kissed myforehead and stared intentlyintomy eyes, making mystomach shrivel. "Behave," he said, his voice low and smooth butstill another warning. And then he headed for the door.
“Wait!” I shouted at him,turning around in my chair, “You can’t leave me like this!” But heonly ignored me and walked right out the front door, taking hisnewspaper with him.
Bitch.
Chapter Nine
Company
Ten seconds after thefront door closed, my cuffs deactivated and my wrists and ankleswere finally free. I breathed a small sigh of relief as I listenedto the car pull out of the circle drive. I was finally away fromhim, even though it was just an illusion. I knew Darren could stillsee me and could probably hear me as well.
Just then, the scent of eggs filled the air and mymouth instantly began to salivate even as my stomach protested bigtime. Placing the plate containing a still too large veggie omeletdown before me, David returned to the kitchen without a word. Hedidn’t even look at me. He must have known better, unlike me.
Not wanting to withstandthe sting in my ass any longer, I swiftly stood and paced back andforth in front of the table looking down at the omelet I did notintend to touch. I knew very well that Darren would be pissed if Ididn't finish it, but the realization that his control over medidn't require his immediate presence bothered me more than itshould.
My appetite was officiallygone, having been takenover by the largeknots twisting awayinside my stomach, not to mention the pain stillstingingmy ass, but I knew I would need my strength for later. Isomehow managed to finish half the omelet, fumbling with Darren’sstupid large-ass fork while standing, and decided I had madeadiligenteffort to eat it; that would have to be enoughfor now. I wasn't sure what to do with my plate, but Darren hadleft his coffee mug on the table, so I figured someone would takecare of it.
I headed to the foyer and stopped in themiddle of it to study my surroundings, but the rays of the sunshining through the window caught my attention. I looked out thewindow of the front door and envied the freedom of the tiny finchesthat splashed around in the fountain of the circle drive. I wishedI could fly away from here too, but there was no more flight in mysurvival code; there was only fight now.
As I leaned against the window, I heard aslight cough far behind me. I turned immediately before the soundfinished leaving whoever’s lips they were and found a man, dressedin all black standing just beyond the foyer. He had short blackhair, a short trimmed black beard, and was just as tall and muscledas Darren. I had a feeling this was Scott.
“I’d get upstairs if I were you,” hepointed, his low rough voice scratching in my ears.
Yeah, he must be Darren's head of security.I scowled at him and sighed heavily as he turned his back to me andwalked away. So now, I had another man telling me what to do whileDarren was gone? I supposed someone had to be present to enforcehis rules until I learned to obey them properly. It had only beenten minutes since he left, and I was still being pushed around.
I thought about goingafterthe guard, as I was sure he had a gunsomewhere on his person. If I eliminated him as a threat, I couldmake my way to the securityroom.I was sure there was one on the estate. Maybe then I could tamperwith some shit and get this fucking collar off and the fuck out ofhere, but then I was positive Darren would see, activate my collar,and I'd wake up somewhere in a state much more horrible than Icould imagine. I had only one true target, and I hoped that if Isevered the head from the body, the rest of the beast wouldfall.
Turning to the stairs, I headed for my roomand slammed the door behind me. I circled my room, wondering whatin the hell I was going to do until 1 p.m., pissed off that I wastrapped in this tiny confinement of mine.
Realizing the only thing I really wanted todo at this moment, I grabbed the Nike shoes that had been tossedcarelessly by the side of my bed, noticing the fragments of dirt onthe soles and not giving a single shit about it. I rummaged throughmy drawers, and to my surprise, I found asimple,bright pink t-shirt and found theskortsDarren had mentioned at the bottom of thedresser. They would have to do.
I walked over to the middle of the floor,changed my clothes, slipped the shoes on, and started stretching toget my body ready. It felt good to finally let my limbs flex as faras they could, which was farther than most people could. I had beenable to do the splits since I was six years old. I had takengymnastics as a kid, and once I had mastered that, I went forsomething a little more extreme.
My dad always wanted me to be able toprotect myself, and he could only teach me so much. I practiced inseveral different styles to accommodate my need to learn and fight.Martial arts helped push my body in ways I never thought possible,and my increasing flexibility was extremely fruitful when it cameto my kicking ability. I might not be tall or long enough to reachDarren's head, but I could definitely reach his throat.
Once I was done stretching, I started withsome jumping jacks to get my blood flowing. After about a hundred,I dropped to the floor and did several variations of push-ups untilI reached a hundred of those as well. As my heart rate increased,my breathing became labored, and I welcomed the sweat that startedto bead down the side of my face as I pushed my body in my mostfavorite of ways.
Rollingontomy back, I did several different types of sit-ups,and relished in the burn as my abs contracted and pulsed under myskin. It was time to end their little spring break and bring themback out into the open. After about a half an hour of that, Ishadowboxed for a while, throwing all kinds of combinations and afew kicks here and there.
I wished I had some music to go with myworkout; maybe that was something I could ask for later if Darrenwould allow it. So I improvised and sang “Break Stuff” by LimpBizkit in my head and a little out loud to myself. They were one ofmy favorite bands as they allowed me to channel my rage andaggression perfectly to my workout. I imagined Darren as mypunching bag, and it drove my motivation to fight him and kill himeven further. Eventually, Iwouldbreak his fuckingface.
Giving myself atwo-minutebreak, I stopped and stretched my limbs again.I was sweating like crazy, and it felt so good to finally give mybody what it had been craving. I loved to work out; I practicallylived for it. I enjoyedthe morechallengingworkouts, too.Kickboxing, rock climbing, martial arts,volleyball, advanced yoga—I loved that stuff. The morechallenging and competitive, the better.
I decided to engage in some good strengthtraining and planted my hands on the floor before springing mylower body up into a fullhandstand. I breathed through the strain in my arms asall the muscles in my body contracted to hold me up. My record wasforty-twoseconds, and maybe nowthat I had all this time, I could beat it for once. I was onlyabout twelve seconds in when I heard a knock at the door.
Irritated and not wanting to break myconcentration, I yelled, “Come in!” as I continued to hold myposition. I didn’t give a shit who it was or what they wanted. Iknew everyone could see what I was doing anyway and there was noway in hell it was one o’clock already.
I heard the door open and that same securityguy I had seen in the foyer walked into my room, holding a silvertray and a big bottle of water. Once he set it down on the dressernext to him, he stopped to regard me.
“How long have you been holding it?” heasked me.
“Twenty-two seconds,” I said quickly, tryingto stay focused as my limbs began to shake and sweat dripped frommy forehead.
“Well, someone wants to talk to you,” hesaid, holding up a phone. “He’s on speaker.”
“Jaden,” said Darren’s serious voice on theother line.
