Chapter 17
Bella
In good hands.
How many times had I replayed the night before, picking apart what I remembered from the attack and what little he’d said to me since? Knowing that I’d been out of it for any length of time was almost as terrifying as the fact I was here.
In his house.
In his world.
At this point, I didn’t even want to think his name for fear that my worst nightmare had come true. I turned away from the French doors, contemplating jumping off the massive balcony. What good would it do if I broke my leg in the process?
Sleep had come easily, this time a dreamless state of nothingness.
Waking had been difficult.
I remained in the bedroom, staring at my surroundings. The room was beautiful, the area outside unlike anything I’d ever seen before. I could tell from the window and through the French doors leading to the glorious balcony that the house was positioned on a large plot of land directly in front of a lake. If I had to guess, I’d say he’d taken me somewhere to the North Shore north of Chicago given the temperature and light breeze.
But of course at this point I couldn’t be certain of anything concrete.
Other than it was obvious I was losing my mind, or maybe my willpower. Hell, maybe both. I was still reeling from the night, still questioning whether the first part of the crazy dream had been a nightmare.
His tender assault of my pussy and tucking me into bed for a long night’s sleep had been very real. That much I knew.
I’d managed to grab a shower sometime after ten, finding a soft robe and plenty of fresh towels as well as toiletries at my disposal. Now it was after one and I was starving. At least I had water but since no one had visited me since sometime in the night, I would need to venture outside the room. Oh, God. If that was allowed and I wasn’t locked inside.
I stood with the closet door and several of the dresser drawers open, realizing he’d grabbed two suitcases full of my personal clothes and other items.
Including the framed photographs I’d had on my cheap dresser. He’d not only invaded my privacy but had done so in front of my roommates? Or maybe he’d had one of his men break into the secure apartment. That’s what I’d bet on.
I was sick to my stomach, wondering how long the man planned on keeping me as his prisoner.
On a whim, I turned around abruptly, storming toward the bedroom door. When the handle turned easily, I was shocked. I’d expected he’d lock me in, keeping me in a pretty little cage. I took my time finding something like courage before heading into the hallway, listening for any sounds that he remained inside the house.
What I heard was thumping. Like a lot of it.
My curiosity was piqued, and I headed to the top of the stairs, peeking over the banister. It was impossible to see anything other than confirming I was on the third floor. That gave me more willies about the fantasy. I backed into the room, closing the door once again, preferring to be very much alone.
With my ugly thoughts and horrible fantasies.
Someone had tried to kill me. Or us. I wasn’t certain but I did remember seeing the black SUV rolling down the street, a single blip of a weapon being stuck out the window. But I’d frozen, incapable of knowing what to do.
Everything about the house screamed opulence but all my mind could think about was he’d soon place me in a dungeon. My thoughts might be bordering on dramatic given I’d also seen new clothes inside the closet, all my size and several with price tags still attached.
The man had spent thousands on me in addition to bringing me my most precious things. Even my fun little watch collection. And my dance clothes. It was crazy that he’d gone to so much trouble, including making the bedroom appear as if it were meant for a queen.
Books. Music.
A comfy chair.
A thick comforter.
Fluffy pillows to die for.
My God, the makeup alone cost in the thousands, all from Sephora. Instead of selecting anything new, I grabbed the rattiest pair of jeans I could find and a tee shirt that had seen better days. As I slipped into them, I couldn’t help but speculate on why he hadn’t tossed them out, telling me later they weren’t good enough.
I could tell the man was a perfectionist.
And a weirdo.
When I was dressed, I searched through the drawers in the bathroom, continuing to be shocked at the lengths he’d gone. Perfume straight from Paris. A box of jewelry. At least I managed to find a good old-fashioned ponytail holder, slapping my hair into it. As I stared at my reflection in the mirror, I made faces.
I looked gaunt, the combination of fear and sadness in my eyes daunting.
There were some scrapes and a couple of bruises, but I marveled at the fact I was still alive. And I had a very bad man to thank for it. Groovy, as my friends would say in jest.
My thoughts drifted back to Jonas. I’d forgotten Marcia had alluded to the fact it had appeared he’d killed himself. I hated to admit it, but that was entirely possible given the way his father had acted toward him.
But I still found it tough to believe.
After giving myself a nod of approval, I opened the door again, determined to make it downstairs. I was stiff and sore, hating the fact I could still smell Creed’s intense fragrance all over me. When I was finally on the first floor, the thumping sounds seemed louder.
What was he doing, beating people inside one of his massive rooms? I peeked around the giant foyer, the look exactly as I would have expected for a billionaire to own. Everything was modern and avant garde from the stunning crystal chandeliers to the incredible colorful art on the wall. Even the marble I was standing on was unusual in a fabulous hue of turquoise.
I ran my hand over the banister, staring up at the curved staircase before thinking about racing through the front door. Somehow, I knew I wouldn’t be allowed, the security system I noticed giving away my treachery or some gun-toting soldier chasing after me.
How many men had I seen carrying loaded weapons the day of the attack, whenever that had been? Time meant nothing right now. I moved through the house, surprised when I didn’t see a parade of employees working on the property. The house was pristine, not a speck of dust anywhere that I could see. And I doubted a powerful man like Creed handled a single minute of housework in a week.
I wondered if he even changed the toilet paper? Christ. I was losing my mind or had hit my head harder when he’d tackled me than I’d originally thought. I found the kitchen, whistling as soon as I walked in. I wasn’t entirely certain anyone had used it to prepare food before. Like ever.
Unable to resist, I opened the fridge, shocked to find it fully stocked with all kinds of goodies. But nothing I wanted, my stomach feeling squirrely.
I grabbed an apple from the bowl on the counter instead, half expecting it to be wax, pleasantly surprised how juicy it was as I bit into it.
As I walked through the rest of the house, I was drawn to the beauty of the area outside. The man had spared no expense on landscaping, the grass rolling gently toward the water as green as I’d ever seen. I wanted to walk outside, to be bold and daring, but I was nervous about everything, feeling my boundaries even though there weren’t any bars on the windows or doors.
At least that I could see.
My nerves a wreck, I continued glancing into the various rooms, shocked every time I walked into one of them. From the floor-to-cathedral-ceiling fireplaces in three of them to the leather sofas that were plush like butter, and the vast array of open space, I was in love with his decorating style.
But I was forced to remind myself this wasn’t my home and never would be. It also had a far too perfect appearance, as if no one really lived here.
As I headed into the hallway, the thumping drew my attention again. It was coming from another wing of the house. Who lived like they owned an art gallery? I nibbled on my apple as I ventured toward the noise, noticing there was an office, a full bathroom, and a men’s playroom complete with a pool table and a bar. At the end of the hall was an open door, men in jeans passing by.
Now my curiosity was enough to kill a cat. I was close enough I could tell there was a full-fledged construction project going on when I heard a deep voice behind me.
“You can’t go in there, Ms. Rothschild.”
While the tone was full of authority, it wasn’t the person I’d been expecting.
Or maybe hoping to see.
I turned around slowly to see a nicely dressed man. Although instead of wearing a suit, which I’d caught a brief glimpse of at Creed’s office, he was wearing blue jeans and a polo. But there was no mistaking his position given the gun holster he was wearing on his shoulder, the handle of his big, fat gun sticking out.
I was surprised he hadn’t grabbed it in his hand.
“Why?” I asked with a similar tone in my voice.
“Because Mr. Saint has strictly forbidden you to go inside. That’s why.”
“And where is Mr. Saint?”
“On business. He will return soon.”
“While I’m very certain you’re doing an amazing job at holding down the fort at gunpoint, I’m going to find out what’s in that room.” I spun around, determined to find out what was happening when the hairs stood up on the back of my neck.
“I’ll handle my guest from here, Christen.”
Creed.
He’d returned.
I was almost instantly shaking, trying to keep from making a single sound. Very slowly I turned to face him, noticing he had a smug look on his face. I was strangely taken aback by his presence even though I knew he’d show up sooner versus later.
“Don’t look so shaken, perfect dancer. You’re perfectly safe here,” Creed told me as he moved closer.
I found myself inching backward until he cocked his head, his expression full of complete amusement. He was truly one of the most handsome men I’d ever seen, but thinking of him as anything but a monster didn’t seem right.
He continued inching closer, crowding my space. Why was it that I was intoxicated by his scent? And why did I also detect something coppery? Had he been out hunting?
I turned my head away from him as he started to lower his, but he proved I was nothing but his possession by grabbing my jaw, tsking like I was a bad girl. As he slowly turned it back to face him, I was starting to realize I wasn’t going to win any rounds with the man by being as defiant as I’d been.
“Please leave me alone.” At least my tone wasn’t nasty.
“I can’t do that. In case you don’t remember, someone tried to remove you from my life. They will try again until it’s done. Do you understand?”
“Why were they after me? I’m just a dancer, nobody in the scheme of life.”
“That’s where you’re wrong,” he said in a husky voice as he began to rub his thumb across my jaw, slowly inching it to my lips.
I pursed them, refusing to give into whatever method of seduction he was trying to use. I wasn’t going to allow him to pull me into the darkness ever again.
“You see, my sweet. No one has ever gotten this close to me before. That makes you my weakness.”
“Weakness. Don’t you mean your possession?” My question was through clenched teeth.
He laughed and continued rubbing my lips until he forced his thumb inside. When I started to bite it as a natural reaction, he shook his head. “Be careful what you do, perfect dancer. I am a man who wants to create a world where you can feel free and cherished, but I will not tolerate insolence of any kind. Those days are over.”
As he pumped his thumb inside my mouth, I was sick inside, sucking his thumb like it was a lollypop. His eyes were dancing, his twisted mind obviously working overtime. I was furious and worried, but I couldn’t afford to lose my shit. I had my mother to think about.
The moment he popped his finger free, I hissed at him. It was like he took my breath of discord as an admittance I hungered for passion, capturing my mouth. The sensations I’d been uncertain of before returned, all the electricity in the world centered around this moment.
And this man.
I wanted to lash out but the thrill of being in his arms, the sick desire I had for him continued. The fact I’d gripped his shirt, pulling him even closer was a betrayal of my convictions but here I was, lightheaded, my core already heated to a thousand degrees. He thrust his tongue inside but he was gentler than before, taking his time to explore, knowing he had all the time in the world to do so.
I obviously wasn’t going anywhere.
When he broke the kiss, I used the same hand to wipe my mouth, trying to put some distance between us. He chuckled.
“We’re going to New York for the night. I’ve brought you something special.”
“New York,” I repeated. “Why?”
“Because I want to show you something, my perfect dancer.”
“I can’t go. I can’t stay here. I just can’t. I know you don’t care about my hopes and dreams, my obligations or my fears. You certainly couldn’t give a shit my best friend was murdered, but maybe you’ll care that I have a mother who needs me. We have no one else. No other family. She’s all I have and she’s… well, she’s in an aging facility around the clock. She can’t take care of herself and I certainly am not qualified to handle her needs. I’m barely making ends meet paying for her care. Maybe you can understand how hard it is since you have a mother. Everyone does. And I’m certain she loved you.”
I wasn’t certain what I was hoping to accomplish with my admittance but as soon as I had, I could see a darkness shifting into the man’s eyes. Not just from sadness but the kind of cold that anyone would be terrified of.
“My mother was murdered by my father when I was seven years old.”
“What?” I couldn’t have heard him correctly. There wasn’t a chance. “That can’t be true.”
“I assure you, perfect dancer, it’s true. Which is one reason I had no trouble hunting him in the middle of the woods like the wild dog he was. I know all about your mother and your finances, sweet baby girl. While your mother, in my humble opinion, is a bitch who doesn’t deserve you in the least after the way you were treated, I do have enough humanity left in me to understand you would be devastated if you couldn’t afford to take care of her. So I’ve taken that off your plate.”
“What does that mean? Please tell me you didn’t hurt her. Please.” My grip on his arm was tight, my fingernails digging into his skin. He slowly lifted a single eyebrow.
“I’m not in the habit of hurting women who are in the throes of dementia or any woman for that matter. Contrary to what you might have heard, I’m only a monster to those who deserve to face extermination. I’ve taken the liberty of having her moved to a much better facility not far from where we are now. At my expense, of course. Now, you’ll be allowed to see her from time to time if you follow the rules.”
“What rules?”
“We’ll go over those.”
“Why am I here? Why are you spending all this money on taking care of a woman you obviously hate? And don’t tell me because we’re soulmates.”
“That is the truth, my sweet. However, there is a simple reason you’re in my house and in my life. You will dance for me. My private little dancer. You will help me control my demons because I assure you that without what you can provide, I would unleash an explosive wrath. You are truly my perfect dancer.”
With that he walked away, leaving me cold and aching inside.
As I fell against the wall, I knew he wasn’t lying.
And while I might not think I knew him, our connection had allowed me to take a single look inside his blackened soul.
He wasn’t just a monster.
He was one hundred percent insane.