37. Willow
Iwoke up sated but somewhat disappointed not to find Royce in bed with me. I’d gotten used to waking up with his face buried between my legs or trailing kisses over my skin. My new favorite way to start the morning was with him fucking me into the mattress, his hand around my throat.
He completed me in so many ways, and it almost felt criminal to be so happy. Aside from the fact we were criminals—fugitives at that.
Still, it was impossible not to smile as I rolled onto my back and?—
“What the fuck,” I gasped, pulling at the sheets and scrambling until my back hit the headboard. My hand instinctively went to my lower abdomen protectively as fear hit me in the chest, seeing who was seated on the edge of the bed, staring at me.
“Hello, Willow.” Stuart’s voice sent revulsion through me and I gripped the sheets like my life depended on it.
“What are you doing here?” I rasped, hating the fear I could hear lacing through my words. My eyes darted around, hoping by some miracle Royce would appear, but I knew there’d be no such luck. He’d left on a supply run, and he usually took at least two hours on the tiny speedboat.
Stuart must have read my expression, because he leaned closer, smiling menacingly. “Your husband isn’t here,” he spat.
Shit, he was pissed, and the unhinged look in his gaze sent alarm bells ringing. My stomach twisted as I ran through my options. I could throw the lamp on my bedside at him and run, but he’d likely be quicker. Plus, I was naked—how far did I think I was going to get? I searched around, looking for something—anything—that could be used as a weapon.
Stuart’s face swam before me, my stress making me see double until I blinked the blurriness away.
“What are you doing here?” I croaked, attempting to sound unaffected but struggling to pull air in through my nose and mouth. I coughed to clear my throat, and that was when I realized my fingers were turning numb. Something was wrong. My vision blurred and I attempted to blink it away as I shifted into a seated position, but a wave of dizziness forced me back against the mattress.
“Taking back what’s mine,” he said.
Panic clawed at me. “What did you do?”
My voice came out slurred and I fought the urge to throw up. I attempted to stumble off the bed, but I barely made it to the edge of it when he yanked me back by my hair.
No, no, no.
“Not so fast, whore,” he said, pointing a gun at my temple. Did he always have a gun? My brain fought to keep up.
“Stuart, please,” I croaked, terror for my baby soaking through every fiber of me. “Think of the baby.”
“We’ll be going on our own honeymoon,” he said, smiling viciously.
I opened my mouth to scream when something hard hit me over the head and full darkness engulfed me.
I groaned and turned onto my side, feeling around to get an idea of my surroundings as I tried to blink away the darkness. I felt a tingle in my fingers and toes, then the cold, hard surface beneath me. Finally, the pounding behind my eyes and throbbing in my temples had the events with Stuart rushing back to me.
I wrenched my eyelids open and found that my wrists were tied. Where was I? What was going on?
I took a deep breath in, letting my lungs expand and push the panic out. Breathe, Willow. Breathe.
My eyes darted down my body and I was relieved to find myself dressed in Royce’s white T-shirt and boxers. But where was I?
I shut my eyes again as I tried to think, and it seemed to help with my nausea. I had to remember what happened. I visualized Royce telling me he’d be back in a few hours before falling asleep again, only to wake up and find… Stuart.
Oh my God. I’d been kidnapped by my ex-fiancé.
I pried my eyes open through sheer force of will, gritted my teeth, and refused to let panic rise within my chest.
I seemed to be in some sort of concrete bunker with two windows on either side of the steel-reinforced door. A sliver of sunlight filtered through the wooden slats, and I scrambled to my feet to see if I could make anything out.
There was no furniture other than a filthy bed fastened with iron bars—the same ones that were currently bound to my wrists. Bile coated my throat. Oh my God, Stuart has lost his fucking mind.
“Good, you’re awake.” My head whipped toward the familiar voice, and I knew I was seconds away from puking. “Happy to see me?”
“What is wrong with you, asshole?” I hissed, my voice sounding too pathetically weak. “You drugged me.” Stuart flashed a twisted smile. “You could have hurt my baby.”
“It won’t cause you any long-term harm.”
My pulse skyrocketed. There was a mad glint in his eyes. Had he always been sick? He looked like a psychopath standing in front of me, sneering.
“You can’t be sure,” I scolded. My tongue felt thick in my mouth and I retched. I twisted and threw up to the side, the scent of vomit causing me to gag again. I swallowed the bile in my throat before I asked, “What did you drug me with?”
Stuart smoothed a hand over the front of his shirt.
“My mother assured me it won’t hurt the baby.” He rolled his eyes. “She used the same one when she was pregnant with me.”
I bit my tongue, swallowing the words that burned in my mouth. Nothing about that was reassuring.
I tried a different approach rather than pointing out he and his family were certifiably insane.
“Stuart, you have to let me go.” If it meant getting out of here, I was willing to beg, to appeal to any sense of humanity he had. “This… this can’t be good for my…” I cut myself off, hating the next words I pushed past my lips. “For our baby.”
His smile collapsed into a frown. “You don’t mean it. You’re trying to take the baby away from me. You’re trying to ruin us. My family.” He spread his arms. “But I’ll show you we can be together again.”
“Be together?”
I couldn’t wrap my head around what he was saying. The situation was too surreal.
“Yes, I’ll show you we are meant to be. Ashford is just a phase.”
“He’s my husband!”
Jesus Christ. How could I have missed the signs?
“We’ll remedy that. Once I fuck you, you’ll see reason. Royce will just be a bad memory.” He spat the name, the whites of his eyes terrifying in the shadows.
I shook my head. “No. He’s my husband. He’s the man I’ve always loved.” Panic climbed higher in my chest, but I forced it back down. “You cannot erase that. Please, Stuart. We can be friends.”
He reached for his belt, undoing it slowly. “Looks like I’ll have to fuck his memory out of you.”
“Wh-what?” No. Please no.
“You’ll see, Willow. You’ll like it.”
I swallowed bile, the acid burning the back of my throat. “I—I’m feeling sick, Stuart.”
“Drugs were a necessity.” Remorse entered his voice. “We just need some time and I’ll fix you.”
The full impact of what was happening hit me. Stuart was out of his freaking mind. Deranged.
But I needed to keep him talking until I could come up with a plan or… until Royce found me. I had no doubt he was looking for me right now.
“Where are your parents?” I asked as I battled to keep the hot tears from pooling in my eyes.
“They’re right outside,” he snapped. “They’ll be our witnesses.”
I fought the need to throw up again. “Witnesses?”
“Yes. Your marriage to Royce will be null and void.” He was downright crazy. His voice escalated before he took a deep breath and proceeded to push his pants over his briefs. “He’ll see that you want me.” Another sadistic smirk flickered over his face. “Or we’ll have to kill him,” he said simply.
Stale air scraped against my lungs as I watched him discard his pants. I yanked my wrists, fighting against the iron headboard I was tied to.
It was clear by now that there was no reasoning with people like Stuart and his parents. They didn’t see me as a person, but as a means to get what they wanted. The Harris inheritance, which stipulated an heir was required to claim it.
“How big is this inheritance?” I asked as I shifted on the bed, working on the ropes while prolonging the discussion. I moved my hands behind me, searching for any way to break the rope.
“Fifty million. It goes to the baby.”
I wouldn’t give a shit if it was fifty billion. There wasn’t enough money in this world that would make up for what he’d already done.
“Why not to your parents or you?” I said, trying to buy time.
I kept my eyes on Stuart as I worked my leather shackle over the nail as discreetly as possible. Maybe there was a stitch I could loosen—anything to give me and my baby a fighting chance.
“Grandfather’s not happy with us. But our baby is untainted…” He grinned. “My grandmother passed her inheritance to me, but I’ve spent it all.” He let out a snort. “My grandpa wasn’t impressed with the sex parties I was spending all my money on, hence the fucking clause.”
Stuart paced the dirty ground, his hard-on a clear tent in his briefs.
Jesus Christ.
I wished Royce had cut his dick off, not just his testicle. I worked faster on my binds, sweat beading down my back.
“Why don’t you just do what the old man says so he’ll leave the money to you?” I suggested just as the rope loosened around my wrists. Almost there.
He stopped in front of me, his dick too close to me for my liking. I froze, praying he wouldn’t try to get closer.
“Because the old man is stubborn.” He sounded annoyed. “And we can’t kill him because he’s spent half his money on security. Trust me, we’ve tried.” Disapproval formed a deep crease in his brow as he mumbled something that sounded like Fort Knox. “But now we have you.” He knelt next to me, his fingers smoothing over my skin, and I stifled a gag. “We’re meant to be together. I love you.”
He beamed while a sick feeling twisted in my stomach.
“Stuart, I’m married.” My voice trembled, the coppery taste of blood in my mouth a reminder of the terror I felt. “I love Royce, not?—”
I didn’t get to finish the statement. Pain exploded in my cheek and my ears rang from the force of his blow.
“Don’t say that fucking name,” he roared. “In fact, don’t open your mouth. Not unless it’s to suck my dick.”
I let out a small cry when he slapped me again, silent tears dripping down my cheeks.
This man was beyond delusional, and his face might be the last I saw unless I took matters into my own hands.