4. Luella
Chapter 4
Luella
T he following morning, Mr. Blackwood knocks on my door, scaring me half to death. I didn’t expect him to turn up at my fucking bedroom door at six in the morning, but I curse myself for underestimating the fucker. I reach down to my hip, stroking the blade pressed against my skin just in case. Just in case he turned up like this, for example. He looks surprised to see me dressed and unfazed, his gaze sweeping greedily over my features and my chest. He licks his lips and smiles, which probably works on every unsuspecting woman he meets.
“Mr. Blackwood?” I stare into his cold eyes, hating that they were probably the last thing my sister ever saw. I want to claw them from his head, but instead, I force a smile to reassure him that I’m just the same as every other girl.
“Mary.” Another grin. “I’d like you to clean my bedroom today.”
My stomach twists, nausea threatening to spurt from my lips with sheer fucking disgust at the thought of being in his torture chamber. I know how many times he took my sister and his many other victims there. But I can’t let him see my fear.
My heart pounds in my chest, dread pooling in my gut. I nod, keeping my expression carefully schooled into one of naivety. “Of course, Mr. Blackwood,” I reply, my voice betraying none of the fear roiling beneath the surface.
He lingers in the doorway, his gaze fixating on my lips before meeting my eyes with a challenge. “Good. I expect it to be spotless.”
As he walks away, I close the door, leaning against it, allowing myself a moment to gather my composure. The thought of stepping into that room—the epicenter of his depravity—makes my skin crawl. But I must do this. For her. For all of them.
I make my way to Xavier’s bedroom, the weight of the knowledge it holds pressing down on me with each step. His door is ajar, and I push it open with a sense of foreboding. The room is a stark contrast to Colton’s; where his son’s space is cold and immaculate, Xavier’s is a den of opulence, layered with the scent of his cologne and the heavy musk of power.
I start with the surfaces, dusting and polishing, each stroke fueled by the memory of my sister’s terrified eyes. But as I work, I can’t shake the feeling of being watched. I glance over my shoulder, half-expecting to find Xavier lurking in the shadows, but there’s no one there.
Then I see a battered file on his dresser, which looks like it holds nothing important but has been left specifically for my attention.
I just know it.
My curiosity gets the better of me, and I inch closer, my heart hammering in my chest. I tell myself I’m looking for anything that could be used against him.
With trembling hands, I turn the cover and find a collection of photographs. My breath catches in my throat as I take in the girls’ faces, all of them, some younger than I am. There’s a cold, hard lump in my stomach as I realize what I’m holding: evidence of his crimes, his trophies.
I sweep through, tears blurring my vision as I look for my sister, but before I can find anything, I hear the creak of a floorboard behind me. I whirl around, the photographs slipping from my fingers and scattering across the floor. Now, they’re evidence of my snooping, and I curse myself for being caught. My eyes meet Colton’s, his expression unreadable, his steely gaze fixed on the incriminating evidence at my feet.
“I thought you were meant to be cleaning, not making more of a mess?”
He stalks forward like a predator approaching its prey. His eyes glint as he takes in my expression, one I hope screams innocence and regret. He turns his head to look at the photographs and smiles, changing his whole face.
“Pick them up.”
My hands bunch into fists, my instincts telling me to tell him to go and fuck himself, but I can’t falter, not for a second.
“But these...” I make sure to stammer, grinning as I drop to my knees and scoop the horrific images into my hands. “What are these?”
I know damn fucking well what they are, and judging by his sick grin, so does he. My stomach twists when a low rumble leaves his chest.
“Entertainment, memories. Most families have them.”
He’s fucking with me, I realize.
“But...” I drop some of the photos, and he sighs, irritation flooding the air between us.
“Mary. Put the family photos back where you found them, and if you value your life, never breathe a word of this to anyone.”
Family photos? Is he for real? He’s definitely playing with me.
I dip my head and jam the photos back into the battered folder, ensuring my movements are clumsy and awkward. Colton watches me intensely, and I swallow, praying he can’t see through my act. That he can’t see the storm raging beneath the surface, the raw emotions I’ve practiced hiding for years. I can’t lose it now, not when I’m so close.
“What are you doing here anyway?” Colton reaches out to grip my wrist, tugging me flush against him.
I gasp, keeping in character as he leans down, inhaling my scent. I squirm uncomfortably and twist my head away, scowling when he moans.
Sick fuck.
“Did you come in here hoping to fuck my dad?”
Vomit threatens to rush through my mouth and nostrils, but I manage to shake my head and whimper. “N-no, Colton.”
“Why do I get the feeling you’re lying to me, Mary?”
Fear pools in my stomach as his fingers slip into my hair, curling around what little length there is. He tightens his grip, and I wince, letting out a hiss as stinging pain spreads across my scalp.
“Are you?” He tugs my head back so I’m staring up at him, my neck bent at a painful angle.
“Am I what?!” I glare at him, unable to hide my contempt for his breed. I’ll put an end to him and all men like him; men who think they can own women, treat them like this. The thought of this being another girl, a real maid, makes me want to knee him in the balls. But that would blow my cover, wouldn’t it?
“Lying to me.” Colton stares into my eyes, searching for something I can’t even think to hide. My instincts tell me to knee him in the balls and run, but it’s my second day here. I’ll be fired before I can even blink if I do.
“No, please let me go,” I plead, praying he releases me. My fight or flight response kicks in as he continues to tug on my hair; he’s not easing off at all. “Colton.”
He moves closer, his gaze moving to my lips as revulsion takes over me. “Make me.”
I shouldn’t react, I really shouldn’t, or I’ll ruin everything, so I let hot tears of frustration roll down my cheeks. “Please,” I beg, as delight shimmers in his eyes. Or is it something else...something more sinister than pleasure?
“Knees.” Colton forces me down with a hand on my shoulder, and I start to really panic. What if he’s going to do something to me, abuse me or hurt me? Can I go through with it?
You’re an actor, and this is your stage, I remind myself. Play whatever part you have to.
Sophia would have done it for me, so there’s no question as I sink to my knees, still staring up at him.
He sighs, almost like he’s disappointed. “You’re no different.”
I freeze, not knowing what this means for me.
“You’re all the fucking same. Predictable. Boring. If I wanted you to suck my dick, you would, wouldn’t you?”
I nod, almost like I’d be grateful to.
Not before I bite the fucker off.
Suddenly, he releases me, my head lolling forward without his vice-like grip, and I release a whoosh of air I didn’t know I’d been holding. He reaches down and grips my chin in his forefinger and thumb, staring at me with a look so haunting, I don’t know whether to cry or scream.
“I should...” he starts, breaking off mid-sentence as he bares his teeth. I’m reminded of a rabid animal, and fear makes me shake uncontrollably. I don’t have to pretend around this man. He grips me by the throat and hauls me to my feet, slamming me against the wall as he tightens his grip on me.
“Please!” I gasp, clawing at his hands as he loses control, his eyes darkening and his dick pressing into me. Against my will, sparks fly in my core as I imagine him forcing himself into me... I close my eyes. Now is not the time for my fucking rape kink to show its ugly head. Fantasy is one thing; reality is quite another.
He’s going to rape me. Oh my God, I need to prepare myself for this. I knew this was a possibility.
“But not yet.”
He releases me, and I slump down the wall, my hand moving instinctively to my bruised throat. Colton leaves the room without looking back, and I don’t even dare close my eyes to recover.
Stop being so fucking scared! You knew what you were getting yourself into!
I grit my teeth and take a deep, shaky breath before rising to my feet. I smooth down my hair and clothes, hating the way my throat aches when I swallow. I gather the photographs, determined to take them with me.
Xavier left them here for me to find—of that, I’m sure. But Colton didn’t expect to see me in his dad’s bedroom, almost like this room is off-limits to the maid.
Why?
There must be hundreds of photographs in this fucking folder; I need to sit and go through them all one by one, to try and see if I can find my sister in any of them. But my heart aches when I remember every girl in here is someone’s daughter. Someone’s sister.
I fucking hate Xavier Blackwood.
I turn to the door when I hear footsteps and raised voices, and my eyes dart around the room. There’s nowhere for me to hide! The door handle twists, and I throw myself underneath the four-poster bed, the folder shoved beneath my belly.
“Get in there,” growls a familiar voice, and my blood freezes when a girl stumbles into the room, completely naked.
The door closes, and it’s just the three of us in the room.
Oh my God. How will I survive this?