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From an early age, I learned the casino was the only legal arm of the Armstrong empire. I saw the drug shipments. I saw the black-market sales. I even saw the girls being shipped off to places unknown. Compassion and love ended in my life the night my mother died, but Shelby is mine. I always protect my assets, which is why I won’t marry her and get her pregnant until she understands what’s happening. I will get back what her father stole from mine, but I will do it my way.
“You’re just going to have to accept that we’ll be doing things my way. Shelby’s so malnourished I doubt she even has periods, so I doubt she can get pregnant even if I tried.”
“I want to see her. Bring her here now,” he demands, turning away from the picture of my mother.
I shake my head, no.
He turns back to the picture again.
“You know I always thought it was her father who killed your mother. He was jealous of our relationship, and how much we were in love. There isn’t a day goes by I don’t miss her. I wish you could have known her better.”
I’ve often theorized about Shelby’s father being the man who killed my mother. It would make the most sense, given how he betrayed my father and locked away half of the business until Shelby came of age and I married her. It’s cost the family business billions over the years. One day, I know I’ll have to tell her all about this, but that won’t be soon. There’s plenty of time for her to learn the truth, but I will make sure, as my father insists, she’s my wife and pregnant first.
“I wish that too. I will make sure the Jones family pays for what was done to us, but for now, Shelby remains under my lock and key. I don’t want you meeting her and letting her know her family history. She needs to learn it when the time is right. “
My father slams the photo down.
“I want to see her.”
Again, I shake my head, no, but this time, I get up from my seat and make my way around to my father’s side of the desk. I flick my laptop on and open the surveillance app I have for my mansion. My father comes to stand by my side as I bring up the feed to Shelby’s bedroom. There are three cameras—one in her main bedroom, one in her closet, and the final one in her bathroom. Shelby is sitting on her bed reading just as I told my father she would be.
“Does she know you’re watching her every move?” he questions with a chuckle.
“I’ve been watching her every move on camera since she turned eighteen. The regular reports from your spy were not informative enough.”
He leans in to look closer at the screen.
“She is thin. I’ll give you that. Pretty girl, though. She’ll be good to fuck.” My father picks up his glass of whiskey and swigs what’s left in one go before putting the glass back down on my desk with a thump. “You have a month, Eaton. I want her to be your wife in exactly thirty days, or I will have to take matters into my own hands. I want my money back, and she is the key to getting it. Do your duty for our family.”
Without another word, my father leaves. I pick up the remains of my whiskey and sit back in my chair to drink it while watching the live feed from Shelby’s room.
11
SHELBY
The second I return to my bedroom, I collapse onto the bed and open the book Eaton has given me. I can’t believe how its contents differs from the other books I own. The techniques used to look after animals have all been updated. The way to treat a cat with damaged claws is completely different from the method I’ve read before. It’s amazing.
I flick through all the pages of the book, taking in everything. I don’t know how long I’ve been reading, but I can barely keep my eyes open. I know I need to shower, so I reluctantly put the book aside and make my way into the palatial bathroom.
There’s a freestanding clawfoot bath to one side, and opposite, a walk-in shower big enough to hold a party in. There’s also the largest sink and vanity unit I’ve ever come across. The cabinets are filled with various lotions and potions, including makeup. There’s everything I could ever wish for but reluctantly must step away from. I’m not worthy of these items, because the cost is too great. I refuse to offer my body in exchange.
I undress and put my clothes in a large, wicker washing basket and mentally make a note to ask Eaton or Lena where I can wash my dirty laundry. I guess he has a washing machine in this place, so I won’t need to visit the laundromat like normal.
I turn on the hot water and step inside the shower cubicle. This is the best shower I’ve ever been in. It’s so warm and comforting. I tip my head back to allow the water to tumble over my face and down my back. I could stay in here all day, letting the water wash away all my worries and fears. When I bring my head forward again, I see a light pink bottle containing shower gel in front of me.
It’s not wrong to use the shower gel, is it?
Surely it’s been placed in here for me to use. Besides, I doubt shower gel costs that much.
Whoever this Chanel No 5 is, they would be stupid to make their shower gel very expensive. No one would buy it.
I squirt a pea sized amount of the gel into my hands and bring it up to my nose. It smells deliciously floral. I love it. I rub a small amount onto my body, paying attention to my arm pits. The small amount I took isn’t enough, so I grab a little bit more, enjoying the smell now filling the shower.
I let out a long moan of contentment. Maybe I could get used to living in this place. I’m not my mother. I know my own mind because it’s not damaged from years of taking illegal drugs. Maybe Eaton is right, and sex isn’t all bad. I remember the feelings from earlier, the way my body pulsated with pleasure. I definitely want to feel that again.
Biting my lips with nerves, I slowly move my right hand down my body and between my thighs. I stroke gently at the lips of my sex, parting them and stroking my fingers over my most sensitive flesh. The warm water continues to thunder down on me, increasing the sensation. I rest my head against the side of the shower as I flick my fingers faster and faster over the place that feels the best.
My breath is picking up, and when I shut my eyes, all I can visualize is Eaton. I see him standing in the street outside the diner, his piercing, green eyes watching my every move. I see him at the end of the bed earlier, his eyes thick with lust and barely visible under hooded lids. I should hate these visions. I should want to banish them from my memory, but I can’t, because he’s given me a gift—he’s shown me the strange and wonderful pleasure my body can experience.
