Chapter 10
ten
ROSE
Shame still simmers through me when I make it home. I’m too confused to go back to debrief with Cassia. Dare pinned me to the wall, and I let him finger me. I was excited when he slipped his hand into my pants. I was more than willing to let him make me come, when I should have been terrified.
The thrill of it was unlike anything I’ve ever experienced. As if remembering, my pussy aches, begging for more, but my chest is hollow as hopelessness blooms inside of me.
Despite the pleasure he offered, Dare didn’t agree to marry me.
My leverage wasn’t enough.
Muscles tired and heavy, I trudge up the steps to my porch, tapping out my code on the keypad and heaving out a breath as I push into my foyer. Though the layout of my home is similar to Dare’s, the kitchen and dining room are on the lowest level, and the living room is on the second. Also, my third and fourth floor utilize all the space available, providing more square footage than I need, but I love my house.
Warm air greets me. I kick off my shoes, cool tile kissing my bare feet as I tug off the long-sleeve top. I keep my camisole on and toss the shirt on the stairs to take up later. Dropping my phone onto the table, I head to the kitchen. Motion-activated lights turn on as I make my way down the stairs, a feature I insisted on. As a grown woman, I should have conquered my fear of the dark, and for the most part, I have. But there are times when the nightmares come and the pitch black is too much.
As my feet hit the landing, my gaze collides with Eric Vanderbelt’s. He’s sitting on top of my island, a tumbler of whiskey in his hand and a strange, almost angry grin pulling at his mouth as he leers at me.
Dread is a lead stone in my gut. Heart skipping, lungs tightening to the point of pain, throat clenching until it’s hard to breathe, I struggle to keep my composure at the sight of him in my house. Uninvited.
Sure, I broke into Dare’s house earlier, but that’s different. I was running away from Eric.
Eric is here to . . . possess.
Or worse. I’m not sure how I know it, but seeing that look in his eyes, I feel it in my bones. Eric would cross every line if it meant he got to own me.
Nausea roils in my gut.
I thought I was afraid of Dare, but the tremble of fear coursing through me as Eric sets the glass down and jumps off the counter is stronger, more visceral. I almost turn and flee, except the harsh voice in my head, telling me Millers don’t run, keeps me rooted to the spot.
With Dare, I know what I’m getting into. There’s something unknown about Eric, a different sort of viciousness and one of the main reasons I don’t want to marry him. Dare might kill me, but Eric would break me and do it with a smile on his face.
“Rosalynn, I’ve been waiting for you,” Eric purrs, swaggering over to me with the confidence of a man who owns the world.
“Eric.” My voice cracks and I clear my throat. “I thought you were out of town.”
“I came back early,” he says with a shrug. Although Eric isn’t as big as Dare, he’s larger than I am. Stronger.
My throat is dry, like someone dragged sandpaper over it. A tremor runs through my hand, and I tighten my grip on the railing, hoping to hide the shaking. Stubbornness rears its head. I refuse to cower.
Schooling my features, I give Eric a cool once-over. “How did you get in?”
Eric stops before me, ducking his head and studying my face. His nostrils flare as he inhales. Does he know how scared I am? Can he scent it, like the very predator he is? A flash of darkness crosses his features, but then his lips twist into a sinister smile. “Your dad gave me the code. He thought it might be good for you and me to talk.”
Betrayal slices through me. Dad, of all people, gave this man access to my safe place? I know he’s adamant about this arrangement, but he’s led the wolf right to me. Is it possible he doesn’t see the worst of Eric the same way I do? Perhaps, all he can see is the businessman everyone loves.
Still, he never should have given Eric the code.
“It’s late,” I begin, but he cuts me off.
“I heard you said you don’t want to marry me.” Annoyance ripples over his face, and his fists clench at his side.
That fear from before creeps down my spine, forcing my heart to beat faster until it’s slamming against my rib cage. Warning signals flare, but my pride keeps me in place, that and worry about what he might do if I run. He’d probably happily chase me down, and I know I wouldn’t like how that encounter ended.
Lifting a shoulder, I release a soft sigh, as if this is all a misunderstanding. “I don’t want to be forced into a marriage I didn’t agree to,” I say, which is true and might help soothe some of his anger. “You didn’t even ask me, Eric.”
“Why are you being difficult about this? We’re a good match. You’re beautiful. I’m attractive. We’re both rich. People like us don’t get down on one knee to propose, we take what we want.” He reaches up and brushes his knuckles over my cheek.
I flinch away from the touch.
Bad idea.
Eric surges forward, grabbing the back of my neck and squeezing so hard, I have to press my lips together to keep from whimpering from the pain jolting down my spine.
“You’re going to marry me,” he hisses, gripping my arm to keep me in place. “I’ve waited for this deal for years.” His fingers dig into my flesh, rough and unrelenting.
As a sharp ache shoots through my body, I slam my knee between his legs, nailing him in the balls. Grunting, he loosens his hold on me, and I take advantage, breaking away from him and putting distance between us.
The counter is a measly obstacle, but tonight, it might as well be a barricade keeping me safe from an encroaching army.
Eric glares at me, hunched over and sucking in gulps of air as he fights through the pain.
Though I want to believe he’ll see reason—like he did last time—there’s a terrible force pressing down on me and a low, hissing voice whispering through my mind, telling me that Eric won’t stop. Not tonight.
Flashes of what might happen take over my senses, sending acid through my veins, but I shake my head hard, rub my aching arm, and lift my chin. “I think you should go.”
Face scrunching in agony, he straightens, malice shimmering in his gaze like dark glitter. “That was a mistake, Rosalynn.” And then he storms toward me.
Every step he takes is a harsh reprimand against the tile floor.
The contrast between his approach and Dare’s is stark. Now that I see the intention glinting in Eric’s eyes—the pure hostility—I understand that the only danger I was ever in with Dare was succumbing to my feelings. There was never a real threat.
Bladder weakening, I step to the side, but he dashes around the counter faster than any man has a right to move. Fright electrifies my insides. A soft sound escapes me, and even though I spin and run, he’s much, much quicker, closing the distance in a matter of seconds and slamming me against a wall of cabinets. My face slaps against the wooden surface. Agony erupts, angry heat rushing to the injury, and the room tilts.
Fight back, Rose! Fight!
Struggling, bucking, writhing, I force him back before he can get his hands around my wrists and dash to the side, but my freedom is short lived.
Eric is on me once again, this time shoving me down onto the marble countertop. Bile burns in my throat.
“Eric, stop!”
He wrenches one arm behind my back .
“Please!” I try again.
“Shut up, Rosalynn!” he roars, cracking the back of his hand on my head.
Stars dance across my vision, and I think I whine, but it’s hard to hear with the blood roaring through my ears.
My other arm is roughly yanked back as well, joining the other as Eric pins them in place.
He’s going to rape me. That single thought nearly has me passing out, but I push through the terror no one should know to beg for mercy.
“Stop!” Thrashing, I try to get out of the hold, failing as my bare toes slip on the smooth marble tiles.
Eric shoves his hands under my top, his touch like thousands of spider legs crawling over my skin.
I don’t want it. I don’t like it. He can’t. He can’t. He can’t.
“Please stop!” Tears burn in my eyes.
He grabs the back of my leggings and wrenches them down my thighs.
My heartbeat slows until I’m suspended in the moments between who I was and who I will be once he’s done with me.
“Stop, stop, stop,” I beg. Moisture slicks down my cheeks, but I fight a sob.
His smooth palm coasts over my bare skin.
Bile rises as his knuckle brushes over me.
Heart pounding. Mind screaming.
No, no, no. NO.
I don’t want him to touch me.
I desperately want him to stop ? —
Wait. What if he thinks I’ve given in?
I stop fighting, relaxing for a moment while I gather every ounce of strength I have.
Eric mistakes it for submission. “That’s right.” His fingers move from my ass to stroke my spine. “See, baby? This is how it should be.”
“Let me see you,” I rasp, hoping he can’t hear the promise of vengeance in my voice.
He pauses.
“Please,” I beg. “I want to see you.”
I don’t know why—maybe he’s an idiot, or maybe he really thinks I’d willingly have sex with him after he tried to force it—but Eric releases my wrists so he can spin me around. But as soon as my hands are free, I grab the coffee pot and whirl around, smashing it against his temple. The impact rattles my bones. Glass shatters, exploding through the air.
A shard slices across my forearm. Blood trickles from the wound, but the adrenaline pumping through my veins keeps me from feeling the pain. Eric roars, rivulets of red streaming down his face, but the strike wasn’t as hard as I hoped.
When I shove his chest, forcing him back over broken glass, it crunches under his shoes. Dammit. I take a step, gasping at the sharp tips of glass that embed in the heel of my foot. Pushing through the pain, I reach for the vase of flowers on the island. Strong arms band around my torso right as my fingers curl around the lip of the glass.
“Fucking cunt,” Eric snarls. He grabs the back of my top, tugging hard enough that the material pulls against my neck, painfully digging in until it gives with a single, freeing rip that practically booms through the house.
I grip the vase tightly and twist with all my might, turning my body and slamming the thick glass into the side of his head. Water splashes over me, splats against the floor, and the fresh flowers tumble to the ground, smashed under our feet as we struggle. My sense of safety destroyed, right alongside them.
This can’t be my future.
Eric sways, his hold on me tightening until I’m pinned against his chest, and then we’re falling. My stomach drops. Eric hits the marble with a thud. His body cushions me from the worst of the fall, but air rushes out of my lungs all the same.
Shaking, I dig my nails into the skin of his forearms, trying to rip them off me. His grip remains tight. A cage. Shackles holding me down.
This will be my life if I marry him. A constant battle for survival.
Eric groans.
My blood chills.
How is he still conscious?
Wiggling, I move up until my head is right on top of his, then slam the back of my skull into his face as hard as I can. Stars dance in my vision. Agony explodes inside my head. Eric shouts in pain.
Again.
Don’t stop.
I crunch, tightening my abs, before smacking my head into his face again, crying out as my own pain radiates through me. By some miracle, his arms finally go limp. A strangled laugh of victory bubbles out of me as I struggle through my wavering vision, fighting the urge to throw up. I crawl over the glass, wincing and bleeding and hurting. My limbs shaking, breath shuddering, I yank a drawer open, grabbing the chef’s knife before making my way back over to Eric’s prone form. His face is covered in blood, nose crooked from where my head smashed against it. Bits of glass are embedded in his skin. But, still, the bastard’s chest rises and falls.
I have to kill him.
Longing for someone to die is a new feeling, but it’s not entirely unwelcome. What he intended to do to me would have killed a part of myself.
I stop beside him, clench the handle of the knife between my lips to adjust my pants, securing them around my hips, then hold it tightly in my left hand. My throat burns from repressing tears and sobs, but there’s no time to break down now.
I glare at the asshole who almost—a choked sound cuts off the thought.
Eric’s finger twitches.
My chest tightens as fear sluices through my veins.
A high-pitched ringing fills my ears, and I lose the seconds between sitting on the floor and moving to straddle him. My hands tremble as I place the knife at his throat.
One slice is all it would take.
Come on, Rose. Do it.
Panting, knuckles white, mind racing, I press a little harder. As the tip of the knife digs into his skin, a crimson bead of blood appears. My stomach protests, and I swallow bitter bile. I don’t know if I can kill him. I want to. Fuck, I want to. It would be so easy. It would solve so many problems. He deserves it.
Every muscle in my body shakes.
My gut churns.
Slowly, my grip on the knife loosens.
And then movement near the stairs catches my attention. My gaze swings up and meets the beast’s .
I have no idea why he’s here, but a relieved sob wrenches from my chest.
I’m not alone. Eric won’t hurt me with Dare around. He’d be too scared.
Dare stares at me, his brown eyes unreadable as he takes in the bruises on my cheek, the blood covering my skin, my split lip, and then he studies the rest of the damage. The broken glass. The parts of the coffee pot that are still together, coated in Eric’s blood, and then, finally, he takes in the man under me.
Fury flashes across Dare’s face. “Well, fuck, princess.”