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My eyes snap open, the bright light instantly assaulting my eyes. A whine pass my lips, and I close my eyes to try and calm the headache.
“Sam!”
My eyes snap open again, and I pant to keep the pain at bay, a silent panic building within me when I see my surroundings. My father’s pacing in front of the massive mahogany desk that fills the room, and Warrick stands to the right of it with a look of unease on his face.
I try to move my hands, but another pain passes through my wrists, and I can’t move them an inch. I look down, finding myself tethered to a chair by my feet, and my shoulders scream at the unnatural way they’re bent behind me, the rope digging into my arms.
“You tied me up like a dog,” I scream, anger flaring through my veins in disbelief. Pain like I haven’t felt in a long time roars to life through my cheek as the tears that were pooling in my eyes escape.
“If you didn’t act like a bitch in heat, we wouldn’t have to treat you like one,” my father’s voice sneers at me as he comes into view. “I warned you what would happen if you stepped out of line again, after the last time you thought you could defy me.”
“But I did nothing wrong,” I plead with the man I call my sperm donor. Yes, he may be my father by blood, but how can a father treat their daughter the way he treats me? He’s just as bad with my mother, but he doesn’t get too violent with her because he has an image to uphold. No, the beatings are saved up just for me.
“You acted like a jealous fucking girlfriend when Carrie tried to dance with Frost,” Warrick says roughly, getting his backbone back because he’s in the same room as my father. “Now, what the fuck do you say about that? Do you want him that much?”
“I don’t want anything to do with him, he’s a fucking Frost,” I snap, tugging on my bindings. “I attacked that bitch because she was pissing me off with how she was walking round.” A throbbing sensation builds in my head, and I wince—it feels like my head has its own heartbeat and something wet catches my attention.
I run my tongue across the edge of my lip, hissing at the pain when I feel the cut. The taste of something metallic hits me at the same time and I realize my lip is split, and if the throbbing in my head is anything to go by, he beat me to wake me up.
“Warrick?” my father’s voice snaps, pulling me back into the moment. “Discipline my daughter.” My eyes nearly bug out of my head at the command, and Warrick visibly shakes in front of him, his head whipping side to side, denying my father. “I told you, boy, you need to learn to bring her back in line if you want our arrangement to continue.”
“Sir…” The words sound like a wounded little boy as he stares wide-eyed, panic clear. My father grips him by the front of his shirt, and the sound in his throat has my heart dropping into my stomach. “I can’t.”
I think I would’ve preferred Warrick’s pathetic punishment compared to what I know is now in store for me.
“Fine.” The words lash out like a whip, and I brace myself as my father whirls around and back hands me, knocking me and the chair I’m in sideways. My already pounding face screams in agony, and I fight to breathe through the pain.
“You will do as your owner tells you to, girl, do I make myself clear?” he says roughly, hitting me in my stomach this time. I whimper as I feel the bones in my ribs try to give way under the assault. He rumbles again, kicking me harder this time. I won’t give him the satisfaction of hearing me scream again. It’s not the best idea I’ve ever had, but I learned a long time ago, that when I scream, it causes him to go into a frenzy.
“Are you going to pay attention to that fucker again?” he screams, landing blow after blow, and tears stream down my face as I try to lean forward to protect myself the best I can. But with the chair behind me and me now on my side, I can’t do anything, so every hit lands perfectly.
“I- I-” My words break off as I start coughing, my lungs protesting at the movement for me to take a breath.
“Spit it out, you useless little bitch,” he screams, kicking me again with his dress shoes. I know people think someone in a suit with dress shoes on looks smart and official, but I’m telling you, if they catch you just right with them fucking things, it hurts like a bitch.
“I won’t…” I pant through the pain; my words sound weird to my own ears through my clenched teeth. “I won’t go anywhere near him.”
“Good, now do the right thing and show your boyfriend how sorry you are,” he says nastily, and my heart drops into my stomach.
I don’t want to be here.
He comes closer, and I flinch automatically as the glint of a blade catches my eye. He cuts my binding, freeing my arms, and I would sigh in relief, but as the bindings fall away from my legs, it’s all I can to do not break down.
“Move it,” he snarls.
I grit my teeth as I crawl across the floor on my hands and knees, my brain cooking up the many ways I can get myself out of this. But he’ll always find me, my father has promised that I’ll never be free from him. I thought agreeing to this thing with Warrick would calm him a little toward me… I thought wrong. I try to keep my grumbling low because I wouldn’t be able to take another hit right now. Pulling myself up onto my knees in front of Warrick, I look up at him through my lashes with a sweet smile on my face. I hate him, but he’s the lesser evil in this room. The thought of him touching me makes me sick, and I’ll bite his dick off if he tries anything—but I can play the game so long as we’re far away from my father.
“Are you mine?” he demands, running his thumb across my chin as he lifts my head up, forcing me to look keep looking at him.
“Yes,” I say with a sweet smile, lowering my eyes before he can see the truth behind them.
“Good girl. Get up, we’re going to bed.” The smarmy smile that spreads across his face has a shudder passing through me as he pulls me to my feet, his grip firm on my elbow.
I hold my breath as he marches me through the house and up the stairs. When we make it to my room, Warrick flings the door open and shoves me inside. I spin around so fast to snarl at the way he manhandled me, only to find the door slamming behind me and the sound of a lock clicking into place. I run over, yanking on the handle. The fucker locked me in! I pull with all my might, yelling at the door, but I can hear his footsteps getting further away from my room.
With a huff, I leave the door and head into my adjoining bathroom. The light hurts my eyes when it comes on, forcing me to squint as I make my way to the mirror. The sight that greets me has bile hitting the back of my throat, and I lean over the toilet, emptying my stomach as the image plays behind my eyes.
Sweat drips down my back as I continue to throw up, and my body feels like it’s finally giving up on me. After what feels like forever, I dry heave, but nothing comes up. I lay down on the cold stone floor, trying to bring my body temperature down. The coolness of the floor does exactly what I hoped for, the feeling is a welcome one and my eyelids become heavy as I’m lulled into sleep.
