Chapter 3 #2
He stands before me and wraps a band of lace around my waist, securing it behind my back. It’s when he draws the straps up my arms that I realize it’s a delicate bralette.
“It’s weird that you’re putting clothes on me,” I mumble. I could do these things myself; I have since I was a very young girl, mostly because my mother was often travelling with my father and then because I was a young orphan living with two men whom I now know were not relatives.
“That’s true, love. Usually, I take them off. I figure we could try something different for a change.” He winks at me. “But don’t get used to it. I’ll be stripping you naked soon enough.”
“Rhys—” I start. He needs to know that the flush on my skin and my pebbled nipples are nothing more than a chemical reaction and I’m not ready to let him into my body now.
Or maybe ever. I have to be strong where he’s concerned but once again, he steamrolls right over me because I’m so fucking weak where he’s concerned.
“I’m mad enough to keep you naked and tied to the bed until you remember that you don’t want to be anywhere but with me.”
“You’re scaring me,” I whisper.
“Good,” he says sternly. “You should be scared. If you’re scared, then you won’t run off and do something stupid again and almost get yourself killed.”
“Don’t be rude.”
“This, hen, is not rude,” he bites out. “This is fucking terrified because my hands were fucking tied, and I was across the fucking continent while listening to you scream and almost die. So don’t push me on this.”
“Okay.” I mean, what else am I going to say to him? He seems as rattled as I am. Maybe if he’s scared enough, he’ll see reason and let me go. I’ll have to wait, bide my time. Now is not the time to press for my freedom.
He doesn’t reply, only nods once as he grabs a lace trimmed camisole from the bed and pulls it over my head.
He wraps a green and navy plaid coat dress around me and slowly fastens each button before gently lifting the fall of my hair to rest outside of the coat.
It’s like he knows I want to reach for it and the movement might cause me pain.
Rhys carefully guides me to sit on the side of the bed.
He picks up a tall black suede boot and slides it on my leg, zipping it up.
He grabs the other one and does the same before pushing to stand in front of me one more time.
He holds his hand out for me to take once again, and again, I do it, letting him pull me to my feet.
And then he pulls the velvet box from his pocket.
Before I can say no, he snaps it open and plucks the large emerald ring from the box, sliding it up my finger for a third time in our very short relationship.
Twice it was wanted, coveted, this time, I’m not so sure.
“No,” he growls like I’ve done something wrong, and my eyes snap from the giant ring on my finger to his face. Well, excuse me. I was only in a deadly car wreck and am now being held hostage. Maybe a little sympathy would go a long way. “I’ll no’ hear it.”
“Excuse me?” I can feel my rage at everything, at the way he man-handles me and my life, at the way my wants and desires don’t seem to matter.
Or the way I get absolutely no say. I’m just a pawn in his deadly games.
Either way, all of it combined is bubbling up inside me and I’m about to blow my stack.
“Listen and listen good, hen,” he snarls.
“I don’t think I like you calling me that in such an ugly tone.”
“You’re not going to like a lot about what I’m going to say, and I don’t bloody care,” he replies.
“You’re going to wear my mother’s bloody ring.
You’re going to walk your fantastic ass out of this hospital on my arm.
You’re going to fucking smile at our people who are devastated that you’ve been gravely injured, and then you’re going to climb in the car with me and go home.
And then you’re going to do what you’re told for the foreseeable fucking future. Am I clear?”
“Crystal,” I whisper, because I don’t know who this man is and I’m not sure I ever did.
He’s scaring me and I know there’s nothing I can do, at least right now.
I survived the crash, that has to be for something, right?
Now I just need to see this through, but I’ll do it being wary of the man in front of me and careful not to look like I’m going to get in his way.
“Good.”
“I don’t think I like you,” I whisper carefully.
“I don’t fucking care,” he says, and that just speaks volumes about everything that makes up this situation. I’m the loser and he doesn’t care. Yay for me.
His security officers, people I don’t recognize, are flanking the doors.
My cheeks burn when I wonder if they heard him yell at me like a puppy who peed on the floor.
I’m mortified. I look away as he leads me down the hall.
Do they blame me for Harris’s death? Do I blame me?
A man is dead because I couldn’t suck it up and learn to live a life of luxury even if it was without love and family.
Was I being selfish?
I just don’t know anything anymore.
Heavy doors push open, and Rhys leads me outside. I let out a shocked gasp as I see what has to be thousands of people standing in the roadways and grounds outside the building. They’re holding handmade signs, cards, flowers, and even balloons.
A little girl pushes forward with a bunch of flowers. She bobs a curtsey and her little hand thrusts the blooms forward.
“For you, ma’am,” she says.
I crouch down to see her at her level. “Why, thank you,” I say with a gentle smile. “They’re lovely.”
“I picked them out myself,” she says. She’s so precious. Was I ever this brave as a child? Probably not. Even when my parents were alive, I often hid behind my mom’s legs.
“You did? How special. I love them,” I tell her honestly.
“I love yellow,” she tells me in that cheeky way that children share something. “Pink is silly. Yellow is much better.”
“I agree,” I tell her.
“See?” she asks. “I knew you were special.”
“Really?” I ask. I’ve never been special.
“Yes.” Children and drunks never lie.
I feel honored that this little girl thinks I’m worthy of her admiration. If only she knew what a coward I am. I’ll have to pretend to be special, if only for her. I’d hate to let her down.
“I think you’re pretty special,” I tell her, my voice full of honestly.
“You do?” she asks with wide eyes.
“I do.”
“But you’re going to be queen.”
“That’s a big deal,” I tell her. “But I’d wager a guess that whatever you do with your life will be equally as special. What do you think you’d like to do when you grow up?”
“Well…” she thinks. “Now that the king is taken, I can’t be queen.”
“That’s true.” I smile.
“I’d like to work with animals like my mum,” she says.
“That’s wonderful,” I say. “I love animals. They’re the best judges of character. What does your mum do?”
“She’s a veterinarian,” she explains. “But she runs Seaside Animal Sanctuary.”
“That’s amazing,” I gush. “When I’m feeling better, I’d love to visit. Do you think she’d mind?”
“No, ma’am,” the girl says. “She’s right over there.”
I look up and wave to the shocked woman with beautiful mahogany hair just like her daughter. “Would you mind if I came to visit one day?” I ask.
“No, ma’am,” she says quickly. “It would be an honor.”
“We’ll have our office set something up,” Rhys says, ending my happy moment with the young girl and her mother, reminding me yet again that I’m just a movable piece on the game board. “I’d best get her home now.”
“Of course,” the woman says, and I watch as the girl runs happily back to her mother’s side.
Rhys leads me to the car and pushes me in. I slide across the seat, and he climbs in behind me. The driver closes the door and he and the security officer climb in the front seats, and then we take off, back up the winding road to the frightening castle on the cliff.
“Wow,” I whisper.
“That was nice of you to want to visit the animal sanctuary,” Rhys says, breaking the silence.
“She’s a lovely woman and her daughter was absolutely charming,” I reply. “I am also finding the people in the castle not so charming and would rather spend time with a sweet woman and her daughter, not to mention animals. Maybe I’ll just move in with the animals. A downgrade in cages to be sure.”
“Hen, I don’t fucking care if you adopt every homeless animal on the whole goddamn island,” he says, his voice low and menacing. “But if your ass is anywhere other than in my bed, I’ll tan it red.”
“You don’t mean that,” I snap. He wouldn’t dare spank me.
“Don’t I?” he snarls. “You’ve just seen me lose my goddamn mind over worry for you, you’ve seen my people stand vigil for you for twelve goddamn days and still you think you don’t belong here?”
“I know I don’t,” I answer. The truth is glaring. I’m not sure I belong anywhere.
“Then I’m just going to have to show you.”