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This isn’t one of those situations. Nobody paid her to let them beat her. There was no consent here—only pain and fear. And a cowardly little piece of shit who probably considers himself a man.
“He wanted me to go with him. He actually thought I would leave the store with him.” She laughs humorlessly. “I couldn’t. I knew he’d kill me if I went—maybe not right away, but eventually. It’s why I left in the first place. I knew it would never get better because he’ll never get better. Can you believe I used to think he would?” She says in disbelief.
Yes, she would’ve done better to wait for Santa Claus to slide down the chimney. People like him never change. “Thank you for telling me about him. I’m sure that couldn’t have been easy.” Considering the blinding rage now consuming me, I think I sound downright gentle. It’s enough for her shoulders to fall slightly as if the tension is finally draining away.
She looks out the window. “Are we going to your house now?”
“Yes. You’ll be safe there. If he found you at the mall, no telling how long he’s been following you. There’s no way he’ll know to look for you anywhere near me.” But I know him, or I will once my guys finish looking for him. Eric Walters. He doesn’t know it, but his days are numbered.
Once we’re at the house, I hand her bag over to Rick and lead her upstairs and down the hall. “There’s plenty of room here, as you know.”
“Your bedroom?” She steps into the suite in which her examination took place, her head on a swivel as she looks around.
“This isn’t my bedroom. Mine is at the other end of the hall.” I extend an arm in that direction. “You have full use of the suite, along with anything else in the house, except for my suite of rooms. They’re off-limits. Understood?”
She nods, swallowing—and wincing when she does. I make a note to request a pot of tea for her, something to ease the pain. “Come on. I’ll run you a bath. Soaking for a while will help relax you.” I don’t wait for her to accept, going straight to the bathroom and turning on the faucet. Soon steam rises up in a cloud. Rowan lingers in the doorway, watching me with obvious anxiety.
“What?” I straighten up, looking around the room. “Is there something wrong here? Is there anything missing?”
She shakes her head. “No. It’s beautiful here. But I know you’re a busy man. You must have a million more important things to think about.”
The girl isn’t wrong. There are a million things in need of my attention. Damned if I can think of a single one that doesn’t directly involve her. “Don’t worry about that. Just do as I say, and you’ll be fine. Enjoy your bath.” I leave her alone then, and not a moment too soon. I don’t know how much longer I could’ve maintained a neutral expression, something that wouldn’t scare her worse than she’s already been scared.
Rick’s waiting for me in the hall, and the look we exchange tells me he knows what’s coming. “Eric Walters,” I snarl. “Find that bastard for me.”
He nods, his lip curling in disgust. “Gladly.”
11
Rowan
This isn’t how I saw my day turning out; that much is for sure.
Soaking in this enormous tub which is more like a swimming pool. I could invite five people to join me and still have plenty of room to stretch out. It took a minute, but I figured out how to turn on the jets, and they’ve been working magic on my sore muscles.
Not that I’ve been doing a lot of heavy lifting in the past couple of days or anything like that. This is the sort of soreness that happens when a person has been tense for too long. And that’s how I’ve been since my trip to the mall, where I left empty-handed—one big ball of tension. Always waiting for the other shoe to drop, for Eric to barge through the door.
Now, I don’t have to worry about that. I can close my eyes and disconnect from everything for a little while.
Isn’t it strange, relying on Lucian for protection? He’s the sort of guy a girl needs protection from, right? But here I am, soaking in his tub. Able to breathe, finally.
Eric would have to be the world’s biggest idiot to follow me here, even if he saw me leaving the apartment with Lucian and his driver.
I almost wish he would. For once, he would get what’s coming to him.
If my lips didn’t hurt so bad, I would smile. It’s better to keep them as still as I can, not to smile or even open my mouth too wide. They’ll never heal otherwise. One of the many lessons Eric taught me over the years. A few days shy of two years, in fact. Looking back, I can’t figure out why I stayed as long as I did.
