Chapter 1
Chapter One
Ginevra
T he blue satin dress hugs my every curve, and I straighten to my full petite height. I’m feeling more comfortable in my own skin than I have in forever—maybe even for the very first time in my life. I’ve worked through a lot of my issues in this past year. It’s been quite the healing process.
My hand tightens around Blake’s arm, and he glances down at me. “Are you all right, magpie?”
I nod, offering him a genuine smile. We’re at the grand opening celebration for the most stunningly opulent sex club I’ve ever seen. Owned and operated by one of Blake’s associates, we have to attend and congratulate him, not to mention see what all the fuss is about. The owner’s been posting vague but alluring teasers across social media for months now.
All around us, couples—and trios—are dressed to the nines, while scantily clad men and women move seductively on platforms placed throughout the main room. At both ends, there’s a bar, with booths and tables occupying the perimeter, spaced out between ornate pillars that give varying amounts of privacy.
We approach the bar and Blake orders for us. “Glenlivet, neat, and a lemon drop with extra sugar on the rim.”
Warmth spreads through me as Blake orders my favorite cocktail, without a disgusted sneer on his lips for once. I’m not the only one who’s changed in the last year or so.
Our drinks arrive and Blake lifts his in the air, clinking the glass against mine. “Here’s to a night of debauchery. I can’t wait to test out one of the private rooms.”
I sip my drink, blushing, my heart rate picking up at all the naughty images flitting through my imagination. What does Blake have in mind for tonight?
“I thought this was just a social call, then we’d be heading home.”
A wicked glint shines in his bright blue eyes. “That was my original plan, but now that we’re here, why don’t we indulge a little?” He leans closer, his breath hot in my ear. “I want to tie you up, magpie, and fuck you until you scream my name. How does that sound, Mrs. Baron?”
“Yes,” I breathe out. Butterflies flutter in my stomach every time he calls me Mrs. Baron .
“In that case, let’s?—”
His phone rings. Without looking, he pushes the button to ignore the call. It immediately starts ringing again.
“Fuck.” Glancing at his cell, his luscious lips form a tight line. “I have to take this. Privately. Stay in this room.”
“I’ll be fine. Find me when you get back.”
With a frown drawing his brows together, he nods, then makes for the exit. Hopefully, he won’t be gone for too long. I’m already trembling with anticipation of how the rest of this night will go.
Not so long ago, the mere idea of being tied up and helpless threw me into a panic. Until Blake changed everything for me. I trust him. I know he’ll never hurt me unless I ask him to, and even then, the pain feels so good. I love how he takes control, how I can let myself go in his hands. Never did I think that could be possible until now, until him.
I loiter at the bar, studying the unfamiliar faces in the sea of people around me. The room is packed. Seems like this grand opening is a hit.
A group of partiers surge toward the bar, so I step aside to make room for them. That’s when I notice the walkway around the perimeter of the room, behind the seating areas. I step into the less crowded space and sip my cocktail while studying the art on the wall. Each piece is tall and narrow, framed with molding.
Further down the walkway, a soft click catches my attention, and one of the pieces of art swings open to reveal a private room beyond. Are each of these panels actually a door? Clever.
“Ginevra Pontrelli?”
I whirl around at the sound of my maiden name, coming face-to-face with a tall, dark-haired man. He seems familiar, but I can’t think of his name.
At my silence, he says, “It’s me. Carl Jones the third.” When I continue to draw a blank, he leans closer, his cologne cloying. “You rode my dick at Greer’s party two years ago.”
I’m not sure if it’s his vulgar description of what we did or the jarring scent of his cologne, but the faintest of memories surface. The spitter . That’s right, this guy shoved me into the pool house and couldn’t wait to get me wet, so he spit on his cock and fucked me. I was so wasted I’m surprised I even remember that much about the encounter.
Carl Jones III grins down at me. “It’s good to see you again, Gin. Especially in a place like this. Want to get a room? We can have another go at it.”
That idea makes me queasy.
“No, thanks. I’m actually here with someone.”
“That’s too bad.” He crowds me, maneuvering me closer to the wall of doors. “Who are you here with? Looks like you’re all alone to me.”
“I’m here with my hus— Hey!”
Carl bumps my drink. The sweet, sticky liquid splashes down the front of my dress.
“Oops.” His expression is a mask of concern. “Let me help you.”
He grabs my wrists and pushes my back up against the wall, a wall which, seconds later, gives way and I’m stumbling backward. My heart pounds in my ears. I’d fall, except for the iron grip Carl has on me. He kicks the door closed behind him and we’re engulfed in silence.
Releasing me, he clicks the lock into place. Anxiety and fear prickle across my clammy skin.
We’re all alone in a dimly lit, adult play room. A bed sits centered against the far wall. On one side, shackles dangle from a large wooden structure, and a swing hangs from the ceiling on the other side. If I was in here with Blake, I’d be intrigued, but with Carl, I’m terrified.
He takes a step toward me, and I throw my cocktail glass at him, then dart away, trying to put some distance between us until I can get to the door.
The glass nicks his forehead, then shatters on the wall behind him, raining tiny shards of glass everywhere. He curses, coming after me as I dodge behind the wooden bondage frame, momentarily out of his reach.
“There’s nowhere to hide, Ginevra. Just be a good little slut and come here and suck my dick. You’re not leaving this room until I’m finished with you.” He leers at me.
“Get away from me or you’ll regret it.” I scream as he lunges for me, quickly scurrying across the bed to the other side of the room. I manage to put a tall bench between us. “Leave me alone. No means no.”
He scoffs. “Only stupid bitches think that. Your body, my choice.”
The phrase sends a shudder of dread through my entire body as reality sinks in. I’m not getting out of here until Carl finishes using me. Until he rapes me. He honestly thinks he has the right to do whatever he wants.
Thinking back, I’m pretty sure I told him no in that pool house, but he didn’t care then either. For men like him—rich and powerful—there are no repercussions, no consequences for what they do to women.
My gaze flits to the door, the floor covered in glass, the impossible distance between where I am and the only exit. I’m fucked.
Blake, where are you?
Though with the well-hidden doors, even he might not be able to find me. I’m on my own.
My heart hammers against my chest and my hands shake. Do I try to fight him? He’s much larger than I am, stronger too. He could really do some damage if he wanted. Do I give in and let him have my body? Maybe he’ll be quick, then he’ll let me go.
I’m torn, truly not knowing which of my two options is the best.
Anger rushes through me, igniting a fire in my belly. I shouldn’t even be in this situation. I shouldn’t have to choose between bad and worse. This is fucking bullshit, all because of one entitled prick. But I’m so damn helpless. It’s unfair.
I search for anything to use as a weapon, while Carl rounds the bench, and I sprint to the other side. We’re at a standoff again.
“Having fun yet?” Carl lunges, catching me by surprise this time. “I’m going to make you pay for every second that you’re making me wait, bitch.”
His massive body collides with mine, taking us to the floor. I scream for help, not that anyone can hear me, and scramble to get out from under him, losing a shoe in the struggle. I’m almost free, but Carl drags me back, pinning me under his weight. I can’t breathe. Panic flairs, bringing older, more horrifying memories to the surface. I squeeze my eyes closed against the onslaught.
“That’s right.” Carl hovers above me, pressing me into the floor. “Just stay still and take it. You know you want it. No matter how much you fight me, you want my dick. You’re such a whore.”
He tries to kiss my lips, but I turn my head away. His mouth lands on my cheek, wet and sloppy, and I cringe. Between us, he fumbles with his belt, trying to free his erection.
I can’t let this happen to me again. Opening my eyes, I scan for my lost heel, locating it at my side. I reach for it, get a good grip, and then forcefully drive the stiletto into Carl’s back. He howls in pain, but I don’t let up. I hit him over and over until he rolls off me. The tip of my heel drips blood.
Scrambling away from him, I try to get my footing, but Carl reaches out and grabs my ankle. I yank my foot away and he’s left with only my shoe.
Barefoot, I stand up and sprint toward the door. The crunch beneath my feet is the only warning I get before pain blossoms on my soles, but I don’t stop. I leave bloody footprints in my wake, desperate to get to the exit.
I make it to the door, my fingers slick against the lock as I try to turn it. I almost have it, I’m nearly free. The deadbolt clicks open, and I reach for the handle.
Suddenly, Carl slams into my back, wedging me between his body and my door to freedom. He presses up against me so hard that I can’t move, can’t draw in air, can’t escape him.
“Not so fast,” he snarls. “You want me to do you up against this door, then that’s what I’ll do. There’s no getting away, Ginevra. So stop trying, for fuck’s sake!”
I gasp as he leans away far enough to undo his trousers and lift my dress up to my waist. Cool air briefly hits my backside. His heavy breath in my ear. His bruising touch assaults my ass, my breasts, my thighs. He shoves a knee roughly between my legs.
I close my eyes, willing all of this to go away, searching for an escape somewhere deep inside my psyche. I just want it to be over.
“Told you I’d make you pay,” he grunts.
I whimper, clawing at the wooden door, desperate to get away from him. Bile rises in my throat. Mentally, I attempt to brace myself for what’s coming next. Not only for the pain, but the humiliation and the shame. The powerlessness.
I’ve made so much progress on working on myself, on my trauma, and this is going to set me back to square one. I’ll have to start all over again. And who’s to say this will stop here, that this time will be the last?
Suddenly, he’s jerked away. Cool air replaces his body heat. There’s a thud, followed by a grunt.
Peeling myself off the door, I spin around, eyes wide, heartbeat raging. Agony shoots through the bottoms of my feet, then relief swells in my chest with such staggering force that I sway.
“Blake.”
“Magpie.” He gazes down at an unconscious Carl, his shoulders rigid with tension.
I must be in shock because I can’t seem to move my limbs. I just stand frozen in place and ask the first question that comes to mind. “H-how did you get in here?”
Blake lifts his eyes, meeting mine, and the fury in them sends shivers of ice through my veins. He jerks his chin toward one wall. “Hidden exit.”
“O-oh.” My voice trembles.
When Blake approaches me, his gaze softens, but his tone remains steely. “He hurt you.”
I nod, even though it wasn’t a question. He reaches for me and the numbness I’m feeling fades away, leaving me a shaking, sobbing mess in my husband’s arms. He doesn’t shush me, he just holds me close as I cling to him. He came for me. Of course he did. I never should have doubted that he’d find a way to get to me.
“ Christ ,” Blake curses, picking me up and carrying me away from the glass-riddled floor where I’ve been standing. “Baby, your feet are bloody.” He glances over my head. “Get me doctor. Now.”
For the first time, I notice that we’re not alone. A man hovers near us. It takes me a second to put a name to his face. Jet black hair, green-grey eyes, foreboding presence… Greyson Hyde, owner of Leonidas Gentleman’s Club, as well as this new establishment. While everyone knows his name, and has seen his picture in the papers, this is the first time I’ve seen him in person.
“Doctor’s already on her way,” Mr. Hyde growls. His gaze lands on Carl’s prone form. “I’m assuming you want to deal with that in your own way.”
Blake nods. “Put him on ice for me, will you?”
“Consider it done.”
I glance questioningly between the two men. “Y-you can’t. Don’t you know who he is? His father?—”
“He’s Carl Jones the third, and when I’m through with him, there won’t be a fourth.” Blake sits on the bed, setting me on his lap while we wait for the doctor to arrive. “He could be the most powerful man on this planet and I’d still make him pay for what he’s done to you, magpie. You’re my wife . No one touches you.”
I melt against him. He holds me closer, wrapping his strong arms around me, and inhales the scent of my shampoo.
“I’m sorry I wasn’t here sooner, my love,” he murmurs.
“You’re here now. That’s all that matters.” I nestle into him, doing my best to ignore the pain I’m in.
The doctor arrives at the same time as two men dressed in black. The men lift Carl’s unconscious body between them and drag him from the room. Mr. Hyde disappears with them, leaving me with my husband and the doctor.
Blake remains close to me, growling at the doctor every time I hiss as she plucks shards of glass from my soles. He holds me while she examines the bruises on my body. Though she scowls at him, she efficiently does her job, gives me meds for the pain, and eventually tells me I can go home to rest and heal.
There’s no point in getting the police involved. This isn’t going to court. Carl got caught. We are his judge, jury, and executioners. If he survives the week, I’ll be surprised.