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"I tried, but every time I say anything, Norman begins beating me in public! How am I supposed to––"
"Well, if you stopped provoking him, he wouldn't have to do that, would he?" Jonathon asks, icily. "Don't blame my son for your shortcomings. Because of you, one of my top legal counsel resigned."
Because of me?
Or because of how degenerate his son behaves in public?
But I know no matter what I say or what anyone says, Jonathon will only hold me responsible. Sometimes I feel it's because he wants me to crumble. Anger fills me, but I restrain myself. There is no way he is not aware of the abuse Norman puts me through. He's growing increasingly violent by the day. The way he held me by my hair and slammed my face into the car's wheel, right outside Adam's office, still has me shaken.
Does he really think this pack will accept an Alpha who is openly hostile and violent toward a female of the pack, and one that the pack alpha is said to be sponsoring? He couldn't be that much of a fool.
"Because of you, we're on the verge of being pushed out of that acquisition deal." Jonathon looks furious.
I stare at the ground, knowing that at this moment acting subservient is the only thing that might get me out of a full-blown whipping. But this man has no control over my thought process, and I'm beyond incensed. How does he plan to acquire a company that is leaps and bounds ahead of his own, one that has no intention of changing leadership?
"You're going to fix this, Cynthia." Jonathon slams his fist on his desk, and ironically, on the two reports that explicitly state that none of this was my fault. "I don't care what you have to do. Seduce him, use your body if you have to, but you're going to fix this acquisition deal!"
My head jerks up.
He wants me to seduce his oldest son? The same son who had me in his bed, howling as he fucked me seven ways from Sunday just a week ago?
I'm already reeling from that shock, and now this? Never has Jonathon ever told me to sleep with someone to benefit the business. In fact, he's made sure I had minimal interaction with single males, even within the office.
"Are you…" I stare at him, horrified. "Are you pimping me out?"
The alpha gives me a cold stare. "I'm telling you to fix your mistake, no matter how far you have to go to do it. And the next time," he steps toward me, his tone threatening, "I have to read a report about you provoking Norman into assaulting you, you'll be seeing the basement every night until you learn your place."
My body feels cold.
Is he serious?
"Get out of my sight!" he barks at me, and I stumble out. Blindly, I make my way to the bathroom before collapsing inside one of the stalls. My legs are trembling, fear a bitter taste on my tongue.
It's like I am not a living being for these people.
Pimp me out.
Beat me.
Whip me until the skin on my back is barely distinguishable.
Sitting on the closed toilet seat, I pull my knees to my chest as the tears spill out of my eyes and I stare blankly at the door. How long? How long will this go on for?
Sometimes, during moments like these, I forget why I'm still trying to live. It's been so many years now, and my life is still the same. I face the same humiliation, the same beatings, the harassment, and now they've decided to use my body to get what they want. Losing autonomy over my own body makes me nauseated.
I lower my head to my knees, feeling myself break.
Forcing myself to be brave, and telling myself I'll survive all this is the only way I have of holding myself together. Last week, that man I met, Adrian, he had been wonderful. Charming, sweet, funny, and attentive. Adrian made me feel special. He made me feel important and cherished. He made me feel like my words mattered, like I mattered. But Adam Moore? Adam Moore is just as cold-hearted as his father and brother.
When I was small, perhaps a year into my arrival at the Moore family home, I had been taken to the basement. It was a weekly ritual that the five-year-old I was had been terrified of. Jonathon arrived and started whipping me, my hands chained to the ceiling. At some point, he left the room but forgot to close the door. That's when I saw the boy, his oldest son, come downstairs. I remember begging him to help me, but he just stared at me and left.
He never came back.
It's one of the few memories from my childhood that I've never forgotten. Aside from this one interaction, I don't remember much about Adam. Most of the time, he just avoided me and his entire family. But he knew. He knew what I was put through as a child, and he never once intervened. He never once thought to help me.
And in my book, that makes him just as bad as the rest of his family.
And now, he went and tainted one of the most cherished memories I had. He tainted 'Adrian' with himself, and I will never be able to forgive myself for sleeping with someone who left me to suffer. All of them are the same.
