Chapter 13
CHAPTER 13
NORTH CAROLINA
T hree weeks in that room. Bryson had gone through the full gambit of emotions. The most prominent were deep depression and blind rage, which took turns wreaking havoc on the carefully curated space he was confined in. However, as time passed, he realized that destroying the room did not improve his mood. To make matters worse, no one seemed to care, and Bryson felt trapped in the chaos he had created.
Struggling on what to do to stay sane, he decided to channel his inner Kaydon and settled into a strict routine.
In the mornings, he ran. After one hundred laps around the room, he moved to push-ups. When breakfast came, he ate deliberately slow; afterward he showered and brushed his teeth. In the afternoons, he took up reading.
The routine worked so well that when the door opened with the evening’s dinner, he barely looked up from his book. “Just leave it on the table.”
When there was no accompanied sound of food being left, he glanced up.
Eric loomed in the doorway.
That man had a presence. Something about his unyielding determination made Bryson irritated. What did Eric have that made him so committed?
“Miss Federov requests your presence for dinner,” Eric said, his Southern drawl grating on Bryson’s already fractured nerves.
A smart remark came to mind, but he swallowed it. Seth and Kaydon.
Bryson had sworn to keep them together, and currently he didn’t even know where they were. So instead of being his traditional pain-in-the-ass self, he said, “Lead the way, chief.”
Eric’s hand was firm on his left bicep as he led him down the hall. Left, then right, through the main foyer and then right into a large two-story room. Sheets covered a few pieces of furniture, and colorful paintings lined the walls.
“You guys have a party?” Bryson asked, trying to make conversation.
Eric didn’t say anything and continued to lead him further into the space. When it was clear they were not headed towards the kitchen, Bryson stopped walking.
But Eric didn’t miss a step and handily forced him forward. Bryson tripped, but Eric’s brawny hand steadied him. No, practically carried him. The man forcibly was moving him with one arm.
“Must do this a lot, huh?” Bryson joked, gaining his footing.
Eric’s lips pressed together.
“Just saying you’re good at it.”
Eric opened a door to a dimly lit room and tossed Bryson inside.
He lay on the floor, listening to the door click shut behind him. There were windows in here, but large black shades blocked the outside. Bryson gave himself a moment to allow his eyes to adjust.
To his left was the underside of a large boardroom table. At the far end were a pair of red, leather, pointed shoes. Adria’s long bare legs were crossed at the knee.
Too bad, he would have liked to see if hell was made of fire or ice.
“You sure know how to make a guy feel welcome,” he said, still lying on the floor, dramatically.
When she didn’t answer, he stood, making a show of brushing his knees and hands off. “You really should fire whoever cleans your floors.”
There was a twinkle in her emerald eyes and a hint of a smile on her crimson lips, but she said nothing.
Sitting in the chair across from her, Bryson said, “Thought this was a dinner invitation?”
She shifted in her seat, her back straight, and said, “We need to get a few things settled.”
He leaned forward, mirroring her posture. This should be good.
“Seth and Kaydon have chosen to stay,” Adria continued, “despite my repeated attempts to convince them otherwise.”
They were still here.
Bryson kept his relief locked down, buried beneath irritation. He wouldn’t give her the satisfaction of seeing it. He could tell it confused her—the idea that his brothers would choose him over their own freedom. Of course, it did. She didn’t have a family. She wouldn’t understand.
Bryson smirked. “It’s called loyalty , princess. I wouldn’t expect you to understand.”
Her gaze sharpened, cool and unflinching.
She might not remember him, but he sure as hell remembered her.
Her father had taken her everywhere. A little porcelain doll in expensive dresses, always tucked safely under his arm. He used to speak about her with pride. Bryson had been young, but he remembered the jealousy, the sting of it sharp in his chest.
Now, she was looking at him as if she were trying to solve an impossible equation.
“Loyal to your father?” she asked.
His smirk vanished.
“Did you see their faces?” he shot back before he could stop himself.
Shit.
Rule number one: never speak ill of your family.
Rule number two: never give information for free.
Two minutes alone with her, and he had done both.
Adria’s expression hardened. “Callen did that?”
He clenched his jaw. What did she care?
“What, afraid it’ll cut into your profits?” he sneered.
She flinched. Barely, but he saw it.
“Faces heal,” she said.
Silence stretched between them, thick with things neither of them said.
Bryson let his gaze drag over her, noting the way her dark hair framed her face, the smooth angle of her jaw. Her black blazer contrasted against the white blouse underneath, hugging curves that shouldn’t have distracted him—but did.
“You’d like them to stay,” she said.
Her tone made it unclear whether it was a question or a statement.
“You can make more money off three,” he said smoothly.
“How generous of you.”
He flashed a friendly smile. “I can be very generous when I put my mind to it.”
Adria steepled her fingers, watching him.
It was ridiculous that she had even considered getting rid of them. Three young, attractive men. Two for free. They had to be better than the drugged-out victims she usually acquired.
Adria had a reputation among the families. Sure, plenty of them dabbled in the sex trade, but it had always repulsed him.
She was different.
It took a special kind of psycho to take someone unwilling and mold them into willing sex slave.
And she guaranteed that the men who came out of her program would not only serve , but love serving .
Bryson swallowed back the unease curling in his stomach.
“Why don’t we agree not to lie to one another?” Adria said, unbuttoning a single button on her blazer.
The fabric parted just enough to reveal the tight corset beneath, cinched tight over the white blouse, pushing her breasts high.
Bryson forced himself to look at her lips instead.
Somehow, that wasn’t much better.
Why the fuck was it so hard to look away?
“I’ll start,” she said smoothly. “I think you’re an arrogant little fuck who has spent too much time under Daddy’s protection. When I floated this deal, I never dreamed your father would lend you to me. But now—” she smiled, slow and deliberate “—now I have you.”
Something inside Bryson lurched.
He covered it with a sick grin. “A fucking Christmas miracle.”
“But you’ve made a mistake bringing those two,” she continued, her voice cooling.
Then she moved—standing, stepping closer, perching herself on the table’s edge just to his right.
Her proximity made his skin crawl.
“Bringing me something you so obviously care about. ”
The words came from her mouth, but they might as well have been his father’s.
His blood ran cold.
She reached out, tracing a slow, deliberate path along his cheek.
“You will follow the rules,” she murmured, her voice a velvet promise. “You’ll do as I say, when I say it, and you’ll learn to be a good little boy .”
The last three words were each punctuated by a light tap to his nose.
Bryson sat completely still, his skin tingling from her touch.
She got up, moving behind him. He felt her there, her fingers curling around the sides of his chair.
“You won’t be perfect,” she leaned in, her breath warm against his ear. “And I’m counting on that part.”
When she pulled away, his entire body itched to shake her off . To rid himself of the invisible mark she had just left on him.
But he didn’t move.
Wouldn’t give her that.
“Bottom line,” she said simply, “you will comply.”
She knocked on the door, and Eric stepped in.
“If at any point I feel threatened, or feel that you aren’t listening well enough, I will have Eric physically restrain you into the position I require.”
Bryson finally found his voice, his anger anchoring him. “ I’m threatening you now.”
She exhaled through her nose. “If Eric needs to restrain you?—”
“If he even could.”
“Anytime, kid. Just try me,” Eric said, voice bored.
Adria rubbed her temple like they were giving her a headache. “Eric, please.”
Then she turned that sharp, assessing gaze back on Bryson .
“And you. Do you have any sense at all? Picking a fight, in your situation? Not smart . ”
Bryson scoffed. “I can take care of myself.”
Her head tilted, lips pressing together in mock sympathy. “ Really? Because judging by your face—and the shape Seth and Kaydon were in—I’d say you’re doing a shit job all around.”
Red.
Red flared in his vision, drowning out everything else. He didn’t have to sit here and listen to this.
His chair scraped loudly as he stood?—
“SIT DOWN.”
The force of her command slammed into him like a fist to the chest.
Before he even realized what was happening, his ass was back in the chair.
What the fuck?
His breath came hard and fast, rage surging under his skin, but Adria was already straightening her blazer, composed as ever.
She met his stunned gaze with a slow, satisfied smile.
Her eyes burning into him.
“If I require Eric’s assistance, I will kick Seth and Kaydon out of this house. I will not include the extras I offered them originally, and they will not be left in a good place. Have I made myself clear?”
“Crystal,” he ground out.
“Good, put this on.”
A small watch slid across the table, and Bryson caught it. No, it wasn’t a watch; it was a monitoring bracelet. He recognized this one immediately. His father used them routinely on traitors. It monitored heart rate, respiration, blood-pressure, location, temperature, and really anything else a good torture session needed. It helped the facilitator keep their victims alive as long as possible.
“I assumed you would be familiar with it,” she said .
She was completely insane.
“I’m not wearing this.”
“You will wear it. It is just a matter of if Eric is going to put it on you, or if you are going to put it on yourself.”
He thought of Seth wearing it. Hopefully, he didn’t know what it was; Bryson knew Kaydon did.
“This is crazy,” he said.
“Welcome to the fun-house,” she said, walking out of the room.