Chapter 32 Amber
Amber
A double date with my captor and his best friend and his best friend’s girlfriend, who was also a former victim of my captor that I’ve developed Stockholm syndrome for, was absolutely not on my bingo card for this year… or ever.
But neither was this.
Cal gifted me the dress that didn’t even have a tag, assuring me it was one of a kind and custom-made, the jewelry that practically drips off of me, and the stilettos.
I've never worn those a day in my life, but it's not quite the hell I imagined. Being short probably works in my favor there, since my center of gravity is lower... though you wouldn't know it in these shoes. They're fucking gorgeous, just like everything about Cal's home, his life, and him.
Unfortunately, what's gorgeous on the surface is sometimes just a carefully constructed cover to conceal rot and decay and a void where humanity should be.
I haven't quite figured Cal out yet, but I don't think he fits neatly into any of the categories.
He's not rotten or putrid, but he is broken. .. damaged, like me.
When I exit the room to find him in his suit, knotting his tie, I hate the complicated swirl of feelings that plague me.
He's fucking breathtaking, with a face that can go effortlessly from kind and unassuming to ravenous and desperate.
I watched him do it a while ago when we'd had dinner, when I asked him to fuck me like he hated me, and he came through.
I wore his bruises like a collar for a week, but we were in the comfort of his home the whole time.
Now, I'm about to venture into public for the first time in months, and my anxiety about it is threatening to drown me.
“Fuck.” He mutters, his voice deep and hoarse, full of desire. “You look like a dream.”
I smile in spite of myself, unable to feel terrified when he's looking at me like he's going to tear this dress off me and fuck me until I can't walk.
“You look pretty dashing yourself.”
“We could cancel…” He says thoughtfully, his eyes dipping to take in the dress that plunges between my breasts. “Stay home, naked…”
“You don't like the dress?” I tease. “You bought it.”
“I love the dress.” He says, drawing closer to me with a predatory gleam in his eyes. “But I love you more.”
My stomach twists in discomfort at the confession because I can't say it back.
“Cal…”
He cuts me off quickly. “No. We're not gonna do that. You're my fiancée. I love you, and I'm going to marry your tight ass and fuck you until the day I die.”
“Unless I leave after six months.” I tell him, reminding him of our deal.
Cal's arms wrap around my shoulders, pulling me into him so that I have to tilt my head back to see his face.
“I will do everything I can to be a husband worthy of your love.
.. your presence. I'll give you anything your heart desires, and I'll keep you safe.
And in six months, if you decide to go, I'll let you go.
But it won't change how I feel about you.
I'll love you even after my last breath, little doll, and just because I let you go doesn't mean I won't chase you again.”
My breath hitches at the honesty, and maybe a little at the depravity of the words.
The idea of leaving him just for him to hunt me down and bring me back to him should not be as romantic as it is.
Would he keep me chained in the basement?
Would he sedate me again so I could be his willing toy, at his constant disposal without any of my ire or concern for basic needs?
He smirks at the dumbfounded look on my face and then decides to help me fix it, leaning down to ghost a kiss over my lips. It's so faint, like he's waiting for my permission before he acts on it.
He doesn't get the chance because Dex opens the door.
“Are you ready yet? I think we're pushing past fashionably late, and if you guys fuck now, we'll never get there.”
I laugh first at the look of irritation on Cal's face and the fact that Dex is absolutely correct. If Cal gets me out of this dress tonight, we're not leaving. And I have to leave the house eventually, so it may as well be tonight.
Cal grumbles the whole way downstairs, stopping only when we draw up to the back of the town car.
Katrina smiles at me as I slide in next to her, and Dex takes her other side.
“You look good enough to eat.” She smirks.
There's a beat of silence where I wait for her to say she was just kidding, but her smirk only deepens until she licks her lips nervously, chuckling. It’s almost like she didn’t mean to say that out loud.
“You smell good enough to eat.” I say before I've even really thought about how stupid it sounds.
She smells like cookies or marshmallows, something fluffy and sweet and delicate. But she doesn't look delicate tonight.
Tonight, her innocent pixie aura is gone, and she's channeling a vixen that I assume lives somewhere inside her. Red dress, red lips, tits pushed to the heavens. I hazard a glance toward Cal to see if he’s noticed how fuckable she looks, but his eyes are firmly on me, a little smirk ghosting on his lips.
“Should we give you some privacy?” Dex teases, making me uncomfortably aware of how fucking red I must be.
My cheeks are on fire, and my blood is hot with embarrassment and... something else.
“Fuck that.” Cal groans. “If you two are gonna make out, I wanna watch.”
Oh my God. I'm definitely going to die of embarrassment.
Katrina buries her smile in a glass of champagne as Dex pours one for me, which I take gratefully.
It takes the edge off quickly, and the second glass has me feeling relaxed by the time we pull up to the theater.
They were right when they said it's nothing like the Megaplex. One glance out the window is proof of that.
I'm besotted when we step out and stare up at the massive building, its shiny glass panes reflecting the dark night around us. It looks more like an office building, a miniature skyscraper. But when we step inside, it looks nothing like any office building I've ever seen.
The roof arches high overhead, at least ten stories up. A giant crystal chandelier hangs there in the center, suspended above a marble floor. There must be ten floors, each of which has its own glass rail guard wrapping the whole way around the building.
And there are people everywhere.
“I thought you said it was going to be a small affair.” Katrina says nervously, drawing my attention to her.
She looks even more nervous than I feel.
“It was meant to be.” Dex says, sounding confused. “Where did all these people come from?”
As if on cue, a tall brunette struts toward us on a set of heels that she doesn't so much as teeter in despite the pencil skirt that has to make walking difficult.
“You're here! Thank God. Your investors are here... and so are your competitors.”
“Competitors?” Cal frowns, rolling his cuff and scanning the room as if he can find whoever she's talking about. He looks confident, in control, like he’s right at home among all the men and women in swanky attire and bottles of champagne that cost more than my 3D printer did.
“Yes. Garrett Frazier Wilkinson.”
“What the fuck?” Dex snaps. “Who let him in?”
“I... he bought a ticket.” The brunette swallows nervously, looking between all of us.
Cal seems to realize he hasn’t introduced us and takes the moment to do so, switching gears so fast I grab the back of his arm to steady myself under the newcomer’s gaze.
“Molly,” he says softly, “have you met my fiancée?”
“Fiancée?” Molly's eyes snap to me in shock, and I get ready to stand my ground.
She's pretty enough, and the tone of her voice leads me to think she's judging the assessment. That makes two of us.
“I thought we were keeping that a secret tonight.” I grit, forcing a smile.
“Not from Molly.” Cal waves a hand. “She keeps things functioning. I don't have secrets from her.”
“Wanna bet?” I challenge.
Cal lifts a brow, and Dex snorts, unable to contain himself as Molly looks thoroughly confused. I catch Katrina biting her lip to contain a bubble of laughter and turn to Molly.
“Do you know about Mr. Pig?”
“Mr. Pig?” Molly frowns, looking over my shoulder to Cal for clarification. “Is he a guest or...?” She glances down at the tablet in her hand, scrolling feverishly.
“Don't worry about it, Molly.” Cal says warmly. “Just tell me where that fucking asshole Wilkinson is so I can go make sure he's not poaching my investors now, too.”
“Theater seven.”
“Thank you, Molly.” Dex says in parting as Cal guides me away from his assistant.
“Really?” Cal shakes his head. “You brought Mr. Pig into this?”
“What kind of name is Mr. Pig anyway?”
“The kind a five-year-old picks.” Cal laughs. “He's been with me a long time. So has Molly, but that doesn't mean she's privy to my personal details. Did I detect a note of jealousy from my future wife?”
“Not at all.” I shrug.
“Good. Because there's only one woman I want on my cock for the rest of my life. And she's dressed to fucking kill tonight.”
I don't manage to stifle a snicker at the innuendo as we make our way to the glass elevator. It takes us to the seventh floor in a matter of seconds, and when we reach the floor, the elevator spits us out across from a luxe bar spanning the length of one wall.
“Get yourselves some drinks.” Cal says, gesturing to the bar. “Everything is on the house tonight.”
“I'll be right back.” Dex tells Katrina, pressing a kiss to the top of her forehead that is surprisingly tender. “You'll be okay?”
It's easy to forget that I'm not the only one damaged by this world. It takes me a moment to realize why he even asked that, but then I remember, and I appreciate Dex a little more for it.
When I find Cal's gaze, he nods.
“Try to have some fun.”
“Fun.” I laugh, turning to Katrina as they stalk toward the double doors of what I assume is theater seven. Their strides match each other, and fuck if they don't look powerful—criminally so. “This your idea of fun?”