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Turning, I leaned against the tan granite countertop and studied him. He was a highly successful businessman, and with his bright blue eyes and rugged jawline, no one saw the shark in him until it was too late. From the way women behaved when he was in the room, I suspected their panties were wet as soon they saw him, and men fought for his attention and company everywhere he went, but I knew his other side.
I reached for a mug while offering him the most genuine smile I could muster. The few girlfriends I had who pretended to care were jealous of my life, unaware of the secrets that were neatly folded and tucked away behind the happy woman I portrayed to the world. Those acquaintances only knew about the jewelry, designer clothes, and spur-of-the-moment trips. But none of it was my choice.
I poured the steaming dark roast brew into my mug and turned on the television for the morning news. We had a TV in every room, including the ensuite baths for both of the master bedrooms—mine and his. Donovan watched the stock market and daily events like a hawk. His network of connections and keen awareness of when to make strategic moves in his business were almost scary.
“Westbrook Security will be here shortly. I want you to meet them.” He smoothed his navy blue Brioni dress shirt and took a few calculated steps in my direction. Fear crept up my spine as he stood still, hawk-like attention trained on my chest. He removed the mug from my grip and placed it near the sink. Quickly turning me away from him, he slid one hand around the front of my neck. The other gripped my waist, pulling me into him as he pressed his erection against me. His warm breath brushed against my ear and his fingers dug into my flesh. Anxiety hummed beneath my skin as he tugged my black Nike running shorts down with one rough jerk. With a few quick movements, his slacks were undone, and his hard, thick cock slapped against my ass. Then, his hand moved from my neck to my scalp, grabbing my hair with brute force and controlling me.
He pushed me forward, forcing me to bend over the counter and flattening my cheek against the cold and unforgiving granite. I slammed my eyes closed as the sound of the condom wrapper filled the room, then he brutally shoved himself inside me. My hands balled into fists as the pain shot through me. Donovan didn’t give a shit if I was ready for him or not. According to him, anytime he wanted to fuck, I was fair game. In his mind, since I was inferior to him in every way, I owed him my body. As the pain continued to spike through me, I thought briefly of telling Father, wondering what he would do if he knew this had been a regular occurrence since puberty, only to remind myself that telling Father would jeopardize more than just my safety. I had to find another way to break free.
He jerked my head back and pain shot through my neck. “Stupid little bitch, you could at least pretend you like getting fucked.”
His hand slid underneath my shirt and into my sports bra. The bastard pinched my nipple so hard I bit my lower lip to stop from crying out. If I did, it would only get worse.
I began counting backward in my head. It was the best trick I’d learned when my ex-husband was in a mood. Who knew I would have to mentally check out with my pig of a brother as well? Even though I had no choice but to endure him physically, I refused to be present mentally. At least, I tried anyway.
The doorbell rang, and I grimaced at the sound of Marty, our butler and Donovan’s accomplice, opening the front door. Male voices carried into the kitchen while Donovan continued.
“Stop,” I whispered, frantically trying to pull away from him, but he was too strong.
“Right this way,” Marty said. The footsteps grew closer and closer as Donovan’s body tensed, then shuddered. He loved fucking me when other people were around. It was fun for him. A sick, twisted game that often went beyond just the possibility of being seen. Donovan was all about control.
The second he withdrew and stepped back, I pulled up my shorts and bolted out of the kitchen.
“Giselle!” Donovan barked.
Horrified at the idea of being caught brutalized and helpless, I ran up the stairs two at a time and straight to my bedroom. I wasn’t sure if our guests had seen me vulnerable and half-naked, but I knew I couldn’t look at them yet.
Closing the door softly, I quickly shed my running clothes and headed to the shower. I had to wash Donovan’s stench off before I joined him and our company in his office. Plus, I needed to compose myself.
Ten minutes later, I swept my hair into a neat bun on the top of my head. A light dusting of makeup gave my face a natural, sun-kissed glow—an appearance of innocence, a devoted sister and daughter—and covered any errant bruising from Donovan’s latest attack. Maybe nobody would notice the dead look in my eyes, but I did. I’d lost the will to live a long time ago. The white silk blouse accentuated my tan skin, and the black, slim-fit slacks hugged the curve of my ass, displaying my legs. If I’d had my way, I would have worn a baggy sweatshirt and loose jeans, hiding my body, but Donovan would never allow it.
Dancer’s legs. My heart jumped into my throat as I swallowed the grief. I stuffed the unwelcome emotion into the dark corner, where I contained all the memories of my past. The happy ones were harder to digest than the hell I lived in now, so I refused to acknowledge them until they forced their way into my thoughts like a tidal wave, wrecking me in the process.
I squared my shoulders and tipped my chin up. Before leaving, I gathered the broken edges of my armor and tightly pulled it around me. Once I descended the stairs, Donovan’s deep voice reached my ears as he offered the guests a drink. Inhaling deeply, I entered the room with a soft smile in place. I’d had years of experience perfecting the right one. My stomach clenched as Donovan offered a sickly-sweet grin. Keeping my gaze steady, I approached him.
“There she is. My beautiful sister.” Donovan stood and extended his hand to me as though he hadn’t just raped me in the kitchen.
“Hello, darling.” The heels of my black pumps clicked against the cherry wood floor as I strode to him and dutifully kissed his cheek.
“I would like to introduce you to Pierce Westbrook and Zayne Wilson. Zayne will be your new bodyguard.”
I turned to offer them a warm welcome. “I’m so sorry I’m late, gentleman. I hope you can forgive …”
My gaze landed on the well-built man with dark blonde hair and a pair of green eyes that speared my soul. Donovan’s hand tightened protectively around my waist.
Holy shit.
3
Giselle
“Hi, I’m Pierce. It’s nice to meet you.” The voice tore my attention away from the other man. A tall, breathtakingly gorgeous guy stood and held his hand out to me. His brown eyes were sharp while he assessed me in a non-intrusive way, and his charming smile instantly put me at ease. One thing I’d learned over the years was to read people. Typically, I could identify what kind of person they were within minutes. On occasion, I was wrong, and when I was, I was horribly wrong. Donovan and Ander had taught me to listen to that quiet inner nudge, and over the years, it had become a survival instinct.
“I’m Giselle. It’s so nice to meet you.” I shook his hand, maintaining a strong, firm grip.
My breath stuttered as Zayne approached me.
“Zayne Wilson.” His eyes connected with mine again, and butterflies scattered inside my chest as a heated sensation traveled through my belly. God, he was gorgeous. His presence alone was powerful in a quiet way, mesmerizing me. Confused by my reaction to him, I scolded myself.What in the hell are you thinking?This man saved your life and chained you to the pits of hell.If Donovan had any inkling what I had just thought about Zayne, he would punish me. One thing was for certain: Zayne Wilson wasn’t worth it. Locking away my attraction, I threw away the key and reminded myself of how much I hated the bodyguard that had saved my life.
