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The voice isn’t familiar, but it still sends a shiver down my spine. The taller of the Ashbridge brothers moves past me, and then I hear wheels scraping on the concrete floor. That’s enough of a clue. By the time the chair creaks to a stop in front of me, I already know who I’m dealing with. It is not a pleasant realization.
Richard Ashbridge.
Nothing about him should be this intimidating. From the outside, he is just an old man hunched over his cane. All withered muscle and hunched stature, with a shock of white hair neatly smoothed down on top of his head. But his expression is nothing like I would expect of a man who looks old enough to have survived two world wars.
He looks like a predator.
“Olivia.” He says the name slowly, savoring each syllable like he tastes it on his tongue. “It has been too long.”
I shift in the seat, testing the ropes that only seem to tighten more when I move. “I didn’t realize this was a social call.”
“It costs us nothing to observe the niceties.” Gnarled hands with thickened knuckles grip the armrests of his chair as he leans forward. “Social grace is all that separates civilized people from animals.”
“And here I was thinking that kidnapping isn’t particularly civilized. I guess you learn something new every day.”
Richard gives the slightest flick of his fingers. One of Vaughn’s brothers hits me again. The sound of a slap echoes off the walls just before red-hot pain blooms on the side of my face.
My vision swims before resettling on the old man’s satisfied smile. “Who taught him how to hit? His boyfriend?”
Richard raises his hand just as his grandson cocks back for a second slap.
“You are mouthier than I remember,” he comments. “I preferred you quieter.”
Vaughn’s other brother cracks his knuckles. “I bet I can get her to shut the fuck up.”
“Enough for now.” Richard gestures to the other one. “Lincoln, bring me closer.”
Lincoln pushes the chair a few inches closer. He leans over his grandfather’s back to hiss at me. “You’ll shut that whore mouth if you know what’s good for you.”
Richard studies my face with a searching gaze, as if looking for something specific. “We had a deal, Ms. Pratt. An incredibly fair one, I might add.”
I open my mouth to ask what fucking deal, but Vaughn interrupts before I can say anything.
“I don’t think she remembers, Grandfather.” His voice is devoid of emotion. “Maybe she needs a reminder. You know how forgetful gold-digging sluts can be.”
My gaze flies to Vaughn, who regards me impassively. He knows that I’m not really Olivia. I don’t understand why he is just letting this happen. Unless…
…unless this is what he wants. A twisted way of saving the real Olivia by letting his fucked-up family have me in her place.
“Have we addled her brain so much, do you think?” His grandfather spares Vaughn an annoyed glance. “Or perhaps it was the drugs you gave her.”
“That was the only way to get her here without causing a scene.”
I put on a voice straight from Downton Abbey. “Good Lord forbid that we cause a scene.”
Vaughn is the one who hits me this time.
I remember him telling me he could never hurt anyone with Olivia’s face. He seems to have gotten over that. His hand raises in the corner of my vision, just before his palm collides with my cheek in a resounding slap.
It doesn’t hurt as much as it could, definitely more bark than bite, but combined with the previous strikes, my face still feels like it’s on fire.
I lick blood away from the corner of my mouth where my teeth collided with the inside of my lip. “So civilized.”
Richard watches me like a bird of prey crouched above a shivering mouse in the grass. “I see your time away has made you braver.”
This isn’t bravery. Not really. I know what happens to women in situations like this. There are any number of long and drawn-out tortures they can inflict if that’s what they want to do.
If they’re going to kill me anyway — which seems pretty damn likely — then I’d rather make them do it quickly before anyone has a chance to get creative.
