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They hadn’t believed her. Believed in her.
They’d thought the worst of her.
But you did lie to them.
And now they were gone and she was on her own and it was so much worse than she’d imagined it would be.
“It’s okay,” she said to herself. “You don’t need anyone. All you need is yourself.”
But she wasn’t sure that was true. She’d felt alone for most of her life. As though no one was on her side. But at the same time, she didn’t know how to do this.
She missed them.
So damn much it hurt. Far more than anything Jonathan could have done to her.
She reached into her handbag to pull out Amy Alpaca. She’d had to leave Tickles behind, which had hurt but at least she had Amy.
After getting undressed, she had a quick shower. She felt filthy and she couldn’t remember the last time she’d showered.
Putting on a nightgown, she and Amy Alpaca climbed between the sheets. She hugged the toy close as she closed her eyes.
She didn’t know if she’d really sleep, even though her body was exhausted. But she had to try.
Tomorrow . . . tomorrow was the start of her new life. Whatever that was going to look like.
Owen stared at her as she slept in the flea-ridden motel.
This wasn’t the sort of place she should be sleeping in.
Only the very best was acceptable for his baby girl. He hated that she was here. Wanted to sweep her up into his arms and carry her out of here.
At the same time, he wanted to pull her over his lap and spank her ass until she promised that she’d never leave him again.
Sure, she hadn’t had much choice when she’d been arrested. He should have gotten to her quicker. But one of the palace staff had gotten to her first, carrying her away and locked her in a room. He’d interviewed the guy briefly. He’d been in the room at the time when Jonathan pulled the gun and he’d thought they were helping by grabbing her and locking her up.
He didn’t care if Chloe had agreed to keep them distracted for His Lordship. It was obvious he’d had some kind of hold on her.
He was her father.
Shit father. Worse than his own. At least he’d had the good manners to just walk out.
He wasn’t letting her go. Locking her up sounded better than ever.
That wasn’t what had him most upset, though.
She’d just left. Even after he’d sent that message.
That part was going to earn her some punishment.
He’d followed her halfway across the world. He’d gotten to London and missed her by a few hours. He would have arrived there earlier if he hadn’t had to steal a helicopter and fly out of Escana and into a neighboring country to get an international flight out.
Then when he’d gotten to Lord Fothersam’s house . . . she hadn’t fucking been there.
He’d had to track her down using her passport and cell phone. It had taken him longer than he would have liked.
It hadn’t taken much for the guy in the office to cough up her room number.
Yeah, this wasn’t a place for his girl. And as soon as he put her collar back on, he was going to put her on a leash.
A metaphorical one. Most of the time.
But he was prepared to use a real leash if that became necessary.
He placed his bag down. He always had a go-bag packed. This wasn’t the first time he’d had to use it.
There were only a few essentials in there. But the most important thing was in his pocket. He drew it out, fingering her collar.
Knowing she’d taken it off . . . it had broken something inside him.
Something that could only be unbroken by placing it back around her neck, by hearing that she would never leave him again, by tying her to him in whatever way was necessary.
Hmm. She’d look good with his baby in her belly.
Yep, he was aware he’d jumped off that cliff and was swimming with the sharks in the sea of insanity.
He didn’t fucking care.
She was his.
He stepped toward the bed as she started to whimper. Her distress was clear to see. She looked so fragile. Pale and drawn. Had she eaten at all since she’d been arrested?
Knowing her, he was betting not.
She was terrible at taking care of herself. She put everyone else first and herself last.
She deserved to be put first. And that was what he was determined to do.
He lay on the bed and carefully placed the collar over her neck. She didn’t wake, but she rolled toward him. Somehow, he managed to get it around her neck and fasten it without her waking.
Then he settled in to watch her sleep.
Chloe woke up, staring up at the dirty ceiling. Was it morning? Had she slept? That was surprising. Then again, she’d barely slept over the past seventy-two hours so maybe everything was catching up to her.
