Chapter Thirteen
The door clicked shut behind Jameson, and she ran to bolt it shut.
Caroline struggled to breathe, and the room seemed to spin before her eyes as she processed what he told her.
Her hands shook as her heart pounded in her chest. She clung to the walls as she made her way to her bedroom.
Grabbing her bag, Caroline stuffed her clothes inside, not bothering to fold them.
For six years, she imagined what she might do if she ever got the chance to face James Stanton again. Caroline felt robbed.
Her memory drifted back to the night James’ men stole her from her home.
The shock of watching her mother fall from the gunshot and hearing her father call her name seemed to slow down time. James sat across from her in his limo, and the man smiled.
“As you have witnessed, Caroline. I don’t put up with hysterics or deal with someone who refuses to cooperate.
You’ll be my guest at the mansion. Tonight, you’ll stay in your room while you get over your shock.
Tomorrow, I’ll expect you at the breakfast table at eight.
We have guests to entertain in the evening.
I’ll send Celia to help you dress appropriately,” he said as if they had agreed upon a business transaction.
Caroline glanced at her jeans, covered in her mother’s blood. What happened to her father? She heard the shots, and he yelled, still calling her name.
When they arrived at James’ home, the car went around back, and the two men dragged her from the vehicle. Caroline trembled as they tossed her into a room and locked the door from the outside.
She lay on the bathroom tile until an elderly Chinese woman rubbed her back, waking her.
“Hurry, miss. You’re not dressed. James will be upset if you’re not at your seat at the table,” the kind woman urged her. She fussed over Caroline, undressing her like a rag doll. She started the shower and ushered her inside.
When Caroline finished, Celia dried her off, helped her put on a dress and kitten heels, and slicked her hair back into a ponytail.
“When you return, we’ll play with your hair and decide on clothes for this evening. Don’t speak unless spoken to and eat while you can,” she warned her.
Shooing her to the door, Caroline stepped into the hallway. Two men escorted her to the table and shoved her onto one of the chairs.
James entered a minute later. A maid and a butler rushed to set his breakfast and coffee before him. Caroline’s plate remained empty.
“Good morning, Caroline,” he greeted. “I trust you grieved your parents last night and got it all out of your system. Everything from your clothing to your food will be earned. Do you understand?”
“Do you want me to clean your house?” she asked naively.
James chuckled darkly. “No. I have something else in mind for you. Thomas never told me about his lovely daughter. I have businessmen attending a dinner this evening. You’re responsible for entertaining Cain.
If all goes well, we’ll enter into a business arrangement with him tomorrow morning.
I suggest you do your best to pique his interest.”
Caroline froze. Her college sweetheart remained her only sexual partner, who broke it off when he moved to the East Coast the year before.
“We’ll start our lessons this morning. Come sit on my lap, Caroline,” he ordered.
Fear crippled her as she entered the bathroom, nausea hit her, and she dropped to the floor over the toilet bowl, spilling the contents of her dinner.
The tears flowed as she sobbed uncontrollably.
When she closed her eyes, she no longer saw James sitting at the head of the table. Jameson took his place.
Doubt replaced fear as she debated whether Jameson ran the trafficking ring and brought her to a new place of hell. Rising, she rinsed out her mouth and splashed water on her face. When it didn’t help, she sank slowly to the floor, giving up on ever finding peace.
Jameson pulled out of the cabin’s driveway and took out his phone. He scrolled through the names until he got to Matthew and pressed send.
“Where did you go?” Matthew asked when he answered.
“Someone needs to check on Caroline. I took her to see her father, and I told her the truth. She wants nothing to do with me,” he blurted.
“Shit. Come to the farmhouse. I’ll send Rachel and Rebecca down. They can call her therapist if needed. Why the hell did you do it today?” he asked.
“Because she believed she did something to make me angry. I didn’t want her to doubt herself,” Jameson said, running his hand through his hair. “Can you get someone over there?”
“I’ll meet you at the farmhouse,” Matthew said, disconnecting the call.
His hand scratched the stubble along his jaw, and he banged on the steering wheel. He wanted her to know the truth, but it damn near killed him to see the fear etched on her face.
His phone rang a minute later.
“Jameson, it’s Rebecca. I’m driving over there now. What did you tell her?”
“I told her the truth. She knows I’m James Stanton’s son. The bastard sold her to Cain,” he explained.
“Shit,” she murmured. “Don’t worry. You’ve proven you’re not like your father. She’s most likely shocked, but it’s better she heard it from you.”
“How soon can you get there? She’s not in a good place, Rebecca. I’d have stayed if I thought it might help. She doesn’t want to see me and asked me to leave,” he said, fighting back his emotions.
“I’m already in the subdivision. I’ll call you later and update you,” she assured him.
Pulling into the farmhouse’s driveway, Jameson sat in his truck, feeling as if he brought this on himself. If he kept his mouth shut, she wouldn’t be in pain right now.
Someone tapped on his window, scaring the shit out of him. Garrett’s face appeared, and he opened the door.
“Sitting in your truck won’t fix things,” his friend told him.
“Telling her made her hate me,” he replied, getting out of the vehicle. “Why are you here? You have a honeymoon in Ireland and a bride to enjoy.”
“Our flight leaves tomorrow morning. My brother’s hurting, and I’m staying until we figure out how to handle this,” Garrett said, leading him inside the living room.
Mac, Matthew, and Julio sat in the leather furniture waiting for him.
“I see you managed to get him out of his truck,” Mac said, handing him a whiskey.
“Thanks,” he said, setting the glass on the table. He hung his head and sat on the couch.
Garrett entered and sat beside him. “Did she meet her father?”
“Yeah,” he said. “They made a lunch date for tomorrow.”
“I’m sure it gave her some closure,” Matthew said. “I take it you informed her about James Stanton when you returned.”
“Yeah.”
“I know you don’t want to hear this right now. Caroline may need time to adjust. You’ve given her quite a shock. Don’t give up yet,” Garrett encouraged him.
“You aren’t your father, Jameson,” Mac said firmly. “You didn’t play a part in taking any of those women.”
“Do you think she’s willing to listen to my side of the story? My last name will always be Stanton,” Jameson said quietly. “I’ve made my peace with it. It doesn’t mean I like it, but I’m destined to live alone.”
“How can we help you, brother? Do you think it’ll help her if we talk to her and tell her what you’ve sacrificed for this team?” Julio asked, sipping his whiskey.
“Caroline mentioned she wanted James to suffer for what he did. I can’t tell her about Victoria without her permission. Do you think Victoria will talk to Caroline? At least she might find solace in knowing how he died.”
“I’ll contact Victoria,” Matthew volunteered. “What will you do about Caroline? She’s hurting, bro. If you want her to know you’re not like James, you must tough it out with her. Help her see past the name.”
“I’m afraid it’s too fresh. It might’ve been better if I waited until she healed more. Then I risked someone else accidentally telling her. We all knew how this ended. Please keep an eye on her for me. I know the women will help her tonight, but she has nightmares…”
“You have our word,” Julio vowed. “Things always seem to appear more sinister at night. Let her have time to sort out how she feels about it, then approach her.”
Jameson huffed and shook his head. “You didn’t see the terror in her eyes. The way her voice shook as she ordered me to leave. Fuck,” he said, pinching his nose to keep the tears from welling in his own eyes. Seeing Caroline’s reaction cut him like a knife.
“Let’s see how the women fare, and they may be able to offer some guidance,” Mac suggested.
Jameson nodded and took a swig of whiskey, letting the burn take over. He wanted to feel as numb as his heart.
“Caroline,” Rebecca called her name as the women walked through the cabin. Riley headed straight for the emergency closet while Rachel checked the bathroom.
“She’s in here,” Rachel called, taking a washcloth and wetting it with cold water. “Come on, Caroline. You can’t check out because things got tough. You’re a survivor.”
Caroline stared at the ceiling, hearing the women searching for her. Her body seemed frozen to the spot, and the terror in her mind refused to leave her alone.
“Oh, honey,” Rebecca said softly as she put her hands under Caroline’s shoulders and sat her up. “Riley, get me some orange juice.”
Riley ran to the kitchen while Rebecca and Rachel held her up.
“Why didn’t you call one of us?” Rachel demanded. “We’re your friends.”
“Jameson,” Caroline whispered. “He’s…”
“We know,” Rebecca admitted gently. “I know this has come as quite a shock, but he’s still the same man you relied on while you recovered at the clinic. Drink this,” she said, handing her the orange juice Riley passed to her.
“It’s your wedding day. You need to go with your husband,” she insisted.
“Garrett and I have this thing. When our family needs us, we take care of business first. Besides, how can I enjoy myself knowing you’re in pain?” Riley asked, taking the glass and helping her to her feet.