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“There is no place on this planet where I wouldn’t find you.” And I meant every word. “Also, you told me about the town you lived in. How many Sugarplums are there in the US?”
She giggled, and it sounded like a sweet sonnet. “But how, though? Did you drive or catch a bus?”
“Do you really want to know the details, princess?”
She tilted her head from side to side and then shrugged before taking another sip of water. At Murdoch, there had been nights when she would tell me stories about her life, about the things that made her happy while she was home. I would sit there and soak in her words, tucking them away into the back of mind.
She placed the glass beside her and cupped my head, pulling me to her lips. The kiss was just a brush of the lips, soft and gentle. It made me impatient, so I grabbed her chin and deepened it. She tried to pull away, tried to catch her breath, but I didn’t let her. My hand trailed along her neck, her shoulder, her arms, before I locked our hands together.
I broke the kiss suddenly and left her gasping for air. There was something different about her hand. I grabbed it and brought it up closer, so I could see. There was a diamond ring on her left finger.
What the fuck? Why did it take me this long to notice?
She pulled back, her eyes cast downwards. “It’s not what you think. I didn’t have a choice.”
“Who is it? Is he the fucker who hurt you?” I asked through gritted teeth.
It amazed me how much I could control my anger now, but I was hanging by a thread. She pulled away, but I grabbed hold of her knees and held her there. She wasn’t getting away from me.
“They forced me and I didn’t have a ch?—”
“Who is it?” I asked, cutting her off. My voice was eerily calm, even though I was far from it. If she didn’t give me an answer soon, I would kill off the entire male population just to be thorough.
“I couldn’t get away. I couldn’t get back to you.” She cried.
I held her soft cheeks in the palms of my deadly hands. “I understand. Just tell me who he is.”
She hesitated, but finally gave me a name. “Grant Walsh.”
Grant Walsh. I repeated the name over and over again in my head before tucking it away for later.
“Did he fuck my Barbie?” I didn’t want to know the answer to that question, but I needed to. When she said his name, she’d flinched a little. The movement was so subtle that if it was anyone else was in front of her, they wouldn’t have noticed.
But I knew my Barbie.
“Yes.” Her voice was so low I could barely hear her.
When I met Barbie, she reminded me of one of those unicorns she would draw, pure and beaming with magic. But this girl was now a unicorn without its magic, without the horn.
This Grant bastard was a dead man.
A single teardrop rolled down her cheek, and I gently wiped it away with my finger as I turned her face to meet mine.
“Listen to me, Barbie. You are going to go back to his house and pack a suitcase. Only pack important things.”
So many emotions ran through her eyes.
I knew what she was thinking. “No one is going to hurt you. I promise you that, my princess.”
Barbie nodded and her eyes became distant. “I didn’t want any of this. I wanted to stay there at Murdoch Home with you.”
If she wasn’t already hurting from what that piece of shit Grant did to her, I would have laid her back on the counter and fucked her senseless.
I tucked a piece of hair behind her ear and kissed her forehead. “I know, princess. The people who wronged you, the people who stripped you bare and gave you nothing. I promise you I will end them all and bring you their hearts at your feet.”
She stood up straight, confidence radiating from her, with a hint of mischief twinkling in her eyes. “But won’t me packing up cause a scene? He will notice.”
I laughed darkly. “Princess, that’s the fucking point.”
