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Did it really matter? This was my existence now. Owned by powerful men, used and abused until I would become a rotting, hollow shell. It was exactly as I’d expected when I’d signed on, but somehow, the reality was still shocking enough to take my breath away. I couldn’t give in.
‘No,’ I said blankly.
I would never say yes to a man like Murphy.
But as he grabbed something behind me and held it to my throat, I stilled. A knife. He had a knife at my throat.
‘Then I guess we do this the hard way,’ he sneered.
‘You want to rape me on the kitchen floor?’ I asked, throwing him a look of disbelief.
He tutted. ‘We’ll start in the kitchen,’ he said, ‘but honey, we’ve got an entire apartment to work with here.’
I swallowed down my disgust and eyed the sharp butcher’s knife in his hand, the one I’d been silly enough to think I had a chance of using on him.
He flashed a wide smile and pointed to his pants. ‘Well then,’ he said, tipping his head to one side and fixing those weird blue eyes on me, ‘I suggest you get on the floor and get naked.’
I gritted my teeth and stared as he squeezed his cock through his pants, then started to stroke it slowly, as much as the material would allow. He didn’t take his eyes from mine the entire time.
He looked at me in mock despair, using his free hand to gesture down to his hard-on. ‘Well, come on,’ he said. ‘I don’t think it’s going to suck itself, Annie.’
My skin crawled as he used that name again. Swallowing back tears and screams, I took one tiny step back.
‘I’m not putting my mouth anywhere near that,’ I said emphatically. He grinned, placing a hand on my chest, between my breasts.
‘You think you’re too good for me, you little Mexican bitch?’
I looked at the ceiling momentarily, trying to bite my tongue. ‘Colombia,’ I said, taking a deep breath.
‘What?’ he responded, running a hand over my breasts.
My veins began to sizzle as anger poured through them. I stared at him, so fucking angry at Emilio, at Dornan, at my father. Because of them, I was here, trying to save myself from a man I despised. I pictured my father at a blackjack table, gambling away my future, and it made me want to put a gun to his head and pull the trigger myself.
‘I said, I’m from Colombia,’ I repeated, louder and more pissed off this time. Murphy stopped stroking my breasts and turned his full attention to my face.
‘My apologies,’ he said gleefully, not apologetic at all. ‘But time’s a wasting, and this photo seems to be burning a hole in my pocket, so I suggest you lay down now.’
I set my jaw stubbornly and shook my head. He looked angry, suddenly pressing the knife to my throat again, hard enough that I felt my skin break apart. I stayed as still as possible, imagining what would happen if he slipped and I drowned to death in a pool of my own blood.
Once I was still, he circled around me slowly, pressing himself into my back as he hiked my dress up roughly with his free hand. The other still held the knife at my throat, the little serrations on the blade pulled at my skin every time I shivered.
I squeezed my eyes shut as he reached between my legs and pushed my panties aside roughly, sliding his bare hand over me. Shame and rage rose hot and red in my cheeks as he chuckled. ‘Looks like you’re already ready for me,’ he exclaimed.
Motherfucker.
Before he could pull me closer, I balled my hand into a fist and brought it up over my shoulder, slamming it into the side of Murphy’s smug face. His head snapped back and to the side, and I gritted my teeth, ducking down and away before he had a chance to draw the blade across my neck.
It had been a daring move, but I couldn’t just stand there while he violated me.
He looked pissed, bringing the knife up as if to stab me in the face. I drew my own throbbing fist back again and waited, my expression a silent challenge.
Before I could swing, he feinted to the left, before changing direction and coming at me like a freight train. As he tackled me we fell together, landing hard on the tiles. Stars swam in my vision and I groaned, reaching up to see if my throbbing head was bleeding.
Murphy’s blue eyes glimmered as he hovered above me, taunting me silently as I was pinned by his weight.
‘I knew you’d like this,’ he said, pinching my nipple through thin cotton. ‘All this banter. All this tension. It’s fun.’ He widened his eyes for effect when he said ‘fun’, drawing his fist back and slamming it into my cheek. My eyes watered and the side of my face throbbed. What a fucking life, I thought. I’m finally here in the goddamn land of the free.
But I was not free. I was just a possession. Not even a treasured one.
