Uncaged Obsessions (Uncaged Duet #2)

11. Max

CHAPTER 11

MAX

I spend my days working on my strength, building it, and maintaining it. I want to be ready for the day that I’m getting out of here and I know it’s not going to happen without a fight. Though, things haven’t been as bad as they were before. Carson leaves me alone most of the time until he comes to my room and forces me to dance for him. Every day.

He continues to make shitty comments about my appearance. I force my body to dance under his repulsive stare, and then I’m free to go back to my room. He doesn’t try to touch me, but I know it’s just a matter of time. Especially because he continues to read the texts I receive from the guys. He can tell how much they miss me; I hide how much I miss them, but I’m sure he knows. Which is why he makes sure to tell me how he will erase them from my memory when he puts his hands on me again. That he’ll make sure he’s the only man I need.

I want to get a hold of my phone. I need to, so I can tell them where I am and that I want them to come get me. I don’t want some grand rescue, but it would be a whole hell of a lot easier if they were here to help me.

Though, at the end of the day, this is my battle to fight and my demon to conquer. It’s that thought motivating me to drop down onto the floor and do another set of push ups. All while the vile things Carson has said about my body play on a loop in my mind, encouraging me to work harder, but not for him. For myself.

“You have too much muscle, it’s not attractive.”

“You used to be pretty. Small and delicate but now your arms look almost as big as mine.”

“Did you take steroids or some shit? You look awful.”

I’ve never felt more powerful, stronger, or more like myself. And it’s all from my training at Uncaged and the men there—my men—that made it possible. Dancing made me strong and I always had some muscle but the lack of proper nutrition kept me small and “delicate” like Carson said.

Apparently, today my parents are coming over for dinner and to discuss the wedding. Which is another reason I’m working myself out to the point of exhaustion. I’d love nothing more than to be passed out cold when they get here and avoid the entire unnecessary conversation.

All I know is Carson wants the wedding to happen soon, but I know that it’s not going to happen at all. I won’t let it.

I don’t pay attention to the time because I’ve been so in the zone, and when there’s a knock at the bedroom door I scowl at it even though I know he can’t see me.

“You better be almost ready in there,” Carson threatens.

I roll my eyes, but then I realize something. I’ve been resistant since he brought me back, and for good reason. What would happen if I pretended to be agreeable. Make him and my parents think I’m going to go along with the wedding happily. It worked before.

“Almost,” I call out. My muscles are starting to ache now that they aren’t being used and the adrenaline isn’t coursing through me as strong as before.

“I want you to be presentable. Actually do your hair and makeup and try to look like a fucking woman for once.”

I hear his footsteps retreat and I flip off the door like I’ve done every day. But maybe I will do what he says this one time. Tap into Maxine, the woman who did what she was told with a fake ass smile on her face.

Except this time, instead of crying behind closed doors, I’m going to stay strong and refuse to lose myself again. I’ll never truly go back, but I can pretend in order to get back to my life.

Carson has had some clothes brought to me, along with every makeup and hair item I could ever want, though they’ve remained unopened and untouched. Until now.

I end up picking out a dress I would’ve worn before; the cut is conservative so I don’t have to deal with any “whore” comments. It’s deep purple with long sleeves and a hem that falls just below my knee. The top is fitted, but not too tight and the bottom has a small flare. I curl my hair and put on some makeup, making sure to keep it looking natural. Then, I slip into my single act of rebellion—the four inch black patent leather pumps that Carson’s going to hate because he doesn’t like when I’m too tall.

It doesn’t matter that I’m five foot one on a good day and he’s at least five foot ten. I already know he’s going to say that these are too tall. I want to stab his eye with the heel for it already.

I leave my prison cell before he comes back to bother me again, finding him sitting in his office that I pass on my way downstairs. I step into the doorframe and wait for him to notice me.

It doesn’t take long for him to look up from his computer, sitting back with a smirk on his face as his eyes trail my body, clearly pleased. I fight to keep every ounce of disgust from showing on my face. I also have to fight off the nausea when I fold my hands in front of myself and ask, “How do I look?”

He pushes back from the desk, and turns to approach me. I remain standing in the same spot, although I knot my fingers together as he closes the distance between us.

“Perfect. You look like I have my old Maxine back.” He runs his hand along my cheek and I clench my jaw so tight I’m worried my teeth will crack. “Too bad when I look at you, all I can see is a fucking slut.”

He removes his hand roughly, and I bite back the urge to plow my fist into his face. I’d break my hand, but it would be the most satisfying pain I would ever feel in my life. He walks past me as I stand there, silently fuming.

I just have to hold it together for a little while longer. This isn’t forever. Unlike before, I’ve seen what freedom is like. I’ve seen what my life could be.

I’ve seen what life is like with three certain men, and I will do anything to get all of that back.

This dinner is as awful as I thought it would be.

My parents showed up and were as cold as ever. My mother looked me over, silently scrutinizing, but seemed pleased with what she saw. Though of course she didn’t say anything. My dad greeted me with a head nod before turning to Carson and shaking his hand, dismissing me in the process.

I’ve noticed that Carson’s personal chef has been giving me smaller portions, and it’s even more obvious tonight when I can see everyone else’s plate. I want to talk to them tomorrow and tell them to knock this shit off because they work for me too. Even if the words burn my mouth.

“So, we are thinking two weeks until the wedding,” my mother announces.

I choke slightly on the bite of chicken I just took. “That’s soon.”

“Yes, well, you would already be married if it weren’t for your little stunt”—she gives me a pointed look—“We had plans in place. Carson had to change a lot of things around, you know?”

If she’s expecting an apology she’s not about to get it. Instead, I take another bite of food, chewing slowly.

“Yes, well, two weeks sounds good,” my dad agrees. “After the wedding, Carson and I will have a lot of work to do, so your honeymoon will have to wait.”

“What work are you going to have to do?” I question, and my mother makes a noise that draws my attention to her.

“Maxine, we don’t need to know things like that when it has to do with business.”

Right. The role of a woman in this world is to be seen and not heard. Just to exist and not question anything going on around her.

Fuck. That.

That was never going to be me, and the fact that everyone at this table expected that to be my life shows just how much they don’t know me.

“You obviously can’t wear your dress. Who knows what you did with it, plus…” My mother looks at me with contempt. “It’s not like it would fit now.”

I don’t dare tell her she’s more than welcome to dig through the dump in Nevada to try and find it so we can see if it still fits me or not.

“So, we can go dress shopping tomorrow, Maxine. I may be able to talk to Abigail to see if we can get the same venue. If not, I’m sure she’ll figure something out. She’s the best for a reason.”

I know she’s talking about the wedding planner. I never had a problem with her in particular, she was always nice to me, but she was doing what my mom wanted for everything. Which I get, since the money is coming from somewhere and it’s not me.

“I’m sure I can get the caterers on board again, and our guest list will be smaller since most everyone was present for your little disappearing act and no one was pleased,” she continues.

The rest of the dinner is mostly my mother and Carson discussing wedding details with my dad attempting to talk to Carson about stuff I don’t understand involving the business.

While they all talk about things I don’t care about, I continue to plot my next escape. This one will be my final one. I’ll make sure of it.