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5
London
We headed back to Scotland in Crewe’s private jet along with the rest of his team.
Including Ariel.
She sat on the opposite side of the aisle with her laptop out. We had a mutual understanding to pretend neither one of us existed at any given moment of time.
Crewe remembered my fear of flying because he grabbed my hand the second we sat down and held it through takeoff. He talked to me about Italy to get my mind off the terrifying ordeal and even succeeded in keeping me calm.
My fear of flying was irrational. I needed to forget about it and just move on.
Crewe made that a lot easier when he was sweet to me. His moments of tenderness had become more frequent. He held me through my nightmare, listened to my fears with sympathy, and when I told him I was scared, he always assured me I would be safe.
He didn’t look like a monster anymore.
That’s when I knew I needed to make a change.
I had to get out of here.
As if I had Stockholm syndrome, I had been brainwashed. I found my captor compassionate and understanding, but in reality, he was keeping me against my will. I shouldn’t feel grateful toward him for anything. He was a preferable to Bones, but maybe he was never going to give me to Bones in the first place. Maybe that was all a stunt to coerce me into appreciating him.
The fact that I liked Crewe, enjoyed fucking him and spending time with him, was a huge warning sign. I should be exactly how I used to be when I was fighting him every chance I had. The fact that I’d softened so much, leaned on him for support, told me I was going crazy.
I had to get out.
I thought about the last thing Joseph said to me, over and over. It filled my thoughts during the entire plane ride. Crewe had a few glasses of scotch then fell asleep with his head against the leather chair. He didn’t shave that morning before we left, so a thick beard was beginning to come in. He was just as handsome asleep as he was awake.
I could feel the stir in my belly when I felt the sizzle of attraction.
I wanted to kiss him.
That was ludicrous. The only thing I should want to do was murder him.
Joseph’s plan was the only thing I had at my disposal at the moment. I would never be free again unless I got inside Crewe’s head. If I made him fall for me, made him love me, I could get him to let me go. Or I could get him to allow me to escape without repercussion. If I didn’t do something, this would be my life.
His slave.
I would travel all over with him and keep him company. Some nights he would be with his other whores. Then he would come back to me once he was finished with their entertainment. He would marry someone suitable, have children, and I would still be the woman on the side when he wasn’t interested in his wife.
I would never get married.
Have my own children.
Practice medicine.
I would never have the freedom to make my own decisions.
All of it hit me hard in the chest and made it difficult to breathe. All of my rights had been taken away, and I would never know the life I was meant to have. And worst of all, I was slowly beginning to care for Crewe.
To get jealous when he was with other women.
To miss him when he wasn’t around.
To need him to sleep with me every night.
How did this happen?
I had to end it now. I had to get him exactly where I wanted him.
I had to become his queen.
The castle was just as majestic as it’d been when we left. With stone walls that were impenetrable and courtyards full of roses and hydrangeas, it was an historical masterpiece. I loved the house in Italy, but I preferred the ancient halls of Scotland. I didn’t explore much of it last time I was here, but perhaps Crewe would allow me to wander.
The men carried our bags upstairs into the royal chambers, and Crewe got into the shower.
I’d thought about my plan through the entire flight, but I hadn’t come up with a proper way to execute it. I’d never gotten a man to fall in love with me before. I didn’t know how to be sexy. I didn’t know how to be what Crewe was looking for.
I knew he liked sex.
I knew he liked it when I needed him.
I knew he liked seeing me in that gown.
If I could focus on those things, maybe I could pull it off.
I undressed and joined him in the shower. His six-foot-two frame was lean and carved with muscle. He had flawless skin that was dotted with a freckle here and there. Every time he moved his arms, I could see the muscles shift underneath the skin. He was powerful and beautiful at the same time.
