Chapter 9
Chapter Nine
O liver
Londyn’s bottom lips quivered at his declaration.
Fuck. Why was he admitting his actions from last night? Why admit anything, for that matter? Although he certainly enjoyed the glint of fear in those dove-gray eyes, he relished far more the tiny sounds she made when he kissed her.
Taking pity on her, Oliver stepped back. “I’ve made coffee if you want some.”
He didn’t miss her frown of mystified confusion as he quickly moved past the admission of murder on her behalf and the confession that she’d been violated. Yeah, maybe there was an ick factor regarding eating her pussy while she was unconscious, but he’d fucking do it again in a heartbeat.
Lacing his fingers through hers, Oliver led Londyn down the hall to the elegantly rustic kitchen. He pushed her to sit on a barstool at the black granite island, watching with avid interest as she fought to keep the robe from gaping and exposing her long legs.
“How do you take your coffee?” His question snapped her gaze back to him. “And while the kitchen is fully stocked, I’m afraid I’m not much of a cook.”
“Cream and sugar, please,” she said in a small voice that made his cock twitch with anticipation. He imagined her saying “Yes, Sir,” in the same tone when he commanded her to get on her knees.
All in good time.
He slid a cup in front of her and leaned back against the opposite counter. His gaze fixated on the motion of her throat when she took a sip of the steaming beverage. Just watching her swallow, and imagining his cum trickling down her throat, was making him uncomfortably hard.
Her eyes briefly closed in appreciation. “Thank you,” she murmured, her eyes meeting his before darting away again. Tangling a lock of hair around her forefinger, she scanned the open space. No doubt, she was searching for any opportunity to escape.
“Would you like some scrambled eggs? I can manage that much and some toast.” Oliver’s mouth tightened when an unmistakable look of hunger flitted across Londyn’s delicate features. “When’s the last time you ate something?”
Her brow furrowed in confusion. “Yesterday morning. An apple from one of the guards.” A derisive laugh escaped her as she cupped her hands around the coffee mug. “Well, half an apple, anyway. That’s all he threw into the cell.”
Oliver tamped down his rising temper. How in the hell was this girl still upright and lucid? After everything he knew of her captivity, the drugging, the abuse, and being hunted in the woods, she should be curled up on the floor in a helpless heap. “The Ranch hasn’t fed you?”
Londyn shook her head. “Why waste resources on a girl you intend to have murdered?”
The bitterness in Londyn’s tone belied her submissive appearance. She was such a contradiction, and Oliver loved solving a puzzle. Unraveling her was going to be a pleasure.
Oliver reached into one of the lower cabinets, pulling out a frying pan. Because the gas stove sat in the middle of the large island, he could easily keep an eye on her as he cooked. Assembling the items he needed, he whisked the eggs, added some cheddar cheese and a bit of cream, and then poured them into the pan. Londyn sipped her coffee, but her silent attention remained mainly focused on him.
When it was ready, he pushed the plate of steaming eggs and toast toward her.
“I-I need a fork.” Her voice was soft and non-confrontational.
Oliver let out a sharp laugh. After seeing what a woman could do with an innocuous utensil, he sure as hell wasn’t about to place one in his captive’s hands.
Londyn’s head tilted. “Why is that funny?”
“My brother’s fiancée once stabbed someone in the back with a fork. So, out of an abundance of caution, a spoon will do you just fine.”
She held the spoon he gave her as if considering how best to turn it into a weapon. But hunger won out over bloodthirsty intentions. With a tiny sigh, she began eating while he did the same.
“Picking up our conversation from earlier, tell me how you came to be involved with the auction?” Oliver questioned as she nibbled on her last piece of buttered toast. He had remained on the opposite side of the island, standing in case there was a need to act quickly.
“For the same reasons as other girls. I needed money. It seemed like the only option to get a large sum fast.”
“A large sum ?” Oliver’s brow arched. “I know Vanderbilt is expensive, but surely you have access to student loans. Scholarships. I imagine you are smart enough for such things. What kind of debt have you racked up? Or maybe it’s something else.” He studied her closely while she squirmed under the scrutiny. “Tell me why this was your only option. Do you like to gamble? Drugs? Something else as illicit as an auction where young women are paid obscene amounts of money for their time and their bodies”
Her eyes flashed with lightning at his crass insinuations. “No,” she snarled, raking a hand through her damp hair in frustration. “I did it because I had no other choice. I did it because I am the only one who can take care of my sister. She-she was beaten and abused and then injected with so many drugs she should have died. Paris is in a nursing home after being in a coma for nearly a month. Now, there are so many bills. There’s no money, and the insurance only goes so far. And since she lost her job because of all this, that will soon be gone.” Londyn’s chin trembled, and damn, if Oliver didn’t feel a slight twinge of something… foreign.
Maybe shame. Or empathy.
Fuck if he knew.
“I need money to make sure the person who hurt her suffers, too,” Londyn said, her eyes now glossy with unshed tears. There was a fierceness in her demeanor completely at odds with the sweetness of her face. “I need money to destroy him. Ruin him.”
“Why not just go to the police? If this man is responsible, you could have reported the crime. Let them handle it. And I’m sure whatever medical bills your sister has acquired could have been resolved with a repayment plan.” Oliver’s eyes narrowed in shrewd assessment. “Unless you wanted a break from all that. Maybe your motivation wasn’t your sister at all. Maybe it was the idea of spending thirty days being catered to. Having gifts lavished on you. Eating in the best restaurants, drinking the finest wine, flying around the world as arm candy to the winning bidder.”
Londyn met Oliver’s gaze. She did not seem aware of the tears streaming down her pale cheeks, turning her eyelashes into dark spikes of inky black.
“The police? Go to them?” She laughed, a harsh sound full of disdain. “They are the ones who did this to her. The chief of police where we live… he did this to her. He wants her dead. And since I’m now trapped in this nightmare, he’ll get his wish.”
Oliver’s head cocked to the side. “None of that matters now, dove. You realize that, don’t you? Your sister. The sheriff. College. Your life before now is done. Everything that happens from here on out is in my control. You no longer have a say in what happens. You no longer have any concerns other than submitting to me and ensuring my happiness and satisfaction.”
Londyn choked on a sob, turning her face to stare out the expansive set of windows overlooking the lake. The water glistened in the distance, the nearly bare trees creating a frame for the lake and the mountains around them. Ten miles in all directions from the main ranch house was nothing but streams, steep mountain ledges, and vast wilderness. She did not say anything for a long moment, and when she turned to face him, her chin was set at a stubborn tilt.
“I know this: I know my life is in your hands now. No matter how wrong it is. No matter how depraved and horrendous this situation is. I’ve been thrust into a world of evil that is incomprehensible to me. And I know you have no reason to consider it, but I wonder if we might come to some kind of agreement.”
Oliver smiled, enjoying this back-and-forth exchange. There was something exhilarating about this cat-and-mouse game they’d begun. Londyn was revealing so much about herself in these moments. Showing him the different ways she could be manipulated and molded into the perfect captive. For example, she was undoubtedly submissive, but there were these brattish elements about her that made his blood rush. Taming a brat would be fun. “You’ve no bargaining power here, Londyn.”
“I know that. But still…will you listen to my proposal?”
Shrugging his shoulders, Oliver nodded. “If it makes your situation easier to bear in your mind, then propose away. Nothing will probably come from it, however. I’m not known for extending mercy.”
She met his gaze steadfastly, a hard glint within the soft charcoal-hued depths of her eyes that sent a pang of foreboding throughout Oliver’s veins. He may have underestimated her ability to twist his intentions to suit her purpose. Whatever she requested was likely to be agreed upon. The inevitability of a compromise battered him like a tidal wave. He would give in with irrational, rare benevolence. He would grant her this one concession while using it as an opportunity to exert further control. Like a wolf playing with a newborn fawn, allowing it to totter on wobbly legs before devouring it whole, Oliver would get what he wanted.
“I will not fight or try to escape or beg for freedom. I will submit to anything you want from me. But I ask for two things in return.”
“You have my attention, although realistically, you know I can and will do whatever I want anyway,” Oliver coolly replied.
Londyn took a shuddering breath at his calm assertion, then blurted out, “Deposit the money I would have received from the auction into an account in my sister’s name. It will be used strictly for her care. And when you are done with me, instead of giving me back to these men just to be sold again… you promise me a quick and painless death.”
Oliver schooled his features into his usual mask of indifference. Her demands shocked him, although he would never let her know that. The unexpected acceptance of her fate almost made him angry. She should be fighting tooth and nail to escape him. Like she had in the woods last night. He wondered when she would use the knife she’d stolen from the knife block earlier. Hopefully, soon. He couldn’t wait to teach her a lesson. All he had to do now was wait for her to do something foolish.
“Why would I agree to that? I’ve already spent a fortune on you.”
“True.” Londyn’s gaze drifted to Oliver’s hands, then quickly averted. “But will you consider it?”
A grin spread across Oliver’s face. “Are you promising to be a good girl for me? You’ll let me do anything I want without fighting me?” No doubt the tattoo inked onto his knuckles frightened her. It should. Whatever he held in his hand belonged to him, and this enchanting creature was now one of his most valued treasures.
“If you swear to do as I ask, then yes.” She looked paler than before. The dire bleakness of her situation was finally sinking in.
Oliver stalked toward Londyn at the same time as she slid off the barstool. Pain twisted her features when her bare feet touched the coolness of the wooden floor. He would check out whatever injuries she suffered, but for now, that must wait.
“You cannot negotiate something you have no control over, Londyn. You will be my good girl regardless of your wishes. You will do whatever I want, whenever I want. But just so you understand that I’m not completely unreasonable, I will meet one of your demands. It’s your choice as to which I accept.”