Chapter 20 #2
I lift her up in my arms and bring her to her room. Clearly she’s hoping for something else from me now, panting hard as I set her on the bed, but I have no plans to give it to her. She needs to realize what punishment means.
“Get on your stomach,” I order.
She does so at once, and I nod, pleased to see her so obedient. Maybe the trouble is I’ve been too soft with her. I’ve let her imagine she has some power over me. I’ll need to be more careful going forward.
Grabbing the first aid kit from the bathroom, I dab antiseptic onto a few of the angry red stripes that have broken under the repeated strikes of the belt. I wanted to mark her, but I don’t like to see that I’ve made her bleed.
“Rest for a while,” I tell her. “The pain will be better by morning.”
I walk away, stopping at the door when she calls my name.
“Damien… can’t you stay with me?”
“I have to work.”
“Can I eat dinner with you tonight?”
I clench my jaw. “You lost that privilege when you disobeyed me.”
The sobs that rack her chest as I leave are far more intense than those in reaction to her beating.
I leave the room without turning back.
-
I stay away for the next two days. It’s not entirely my choice.
The Feds’ investigation is heating up, and I spend a lot of time interviewing employees.
I also have video meetings lined up, trying to get powerful politicians on our side.
Little by little, I start breathing easier.
We have a lot of allies. People who stand to lose everything if their dealings with us are discovered.
They won’t let us fall if they can help it.
It’s eight p.m. when I go down to see her. Lucy’s already brought a tray of food but she hasn’t touched it yet. She’s sitting on a wooden chair at the table, and her face doesn’t betray any pain. Yet I know she must be suffering. The whipping was hard.
I sit down on the other side of her, and she looks up at me without saying a word. I study her face, looking for a sign that my belt has made a lasting impression. But her expression is neutral.
“Feeling better?” I ask at last.
She nods.
“I’ll stay with you while you eat,” I say, gesturing to her full plate.
She nods again and begins to cut into her steak with trembling hands. So there’s the sign. Not in her eyes. In her hands.
I watch her in silence as she chews on the meat. Then suddenly she blurts out, “Were you going to take me to a restaurant?”
I stare at her. “What?”
“When you told me we were going to have dinner together. Were you going to take me to a restaurant?”
She’s looking at me with those big violet eyes of hers, waiting for an answer. But I’m too surprised to give her one. I cover my reaction with a scowl.
“I know there’s no hope of eating dinner together anymore,” she says quietly. “I was just wondering… if that was your plan.”
I snort. “Like a date?”
She doesn’t look embarrassed. That’s one thing I’ve noticed about her. She doesn’t blush over the big things, only the little ones. She merely holds my gaze steadily.
“You’re forgetting yourself,” I say coldly. “You are my captive. I was certainly not going to take you to a restaurant. I never had any plans of allowing you to leave this apartment.”
If the words hurt her, she shows no sign of it. “How long?”
“What?” I ask again.
“How long will you keep me here?”
She has a way of taking me by surprise. I would have expected her to ask me that in the beginning, not now.
And I’ve been too busy fending off Vale’s suggestions to kill her to think very far in the future.
Forever is the word on my tongue. But that’s not realistic.
I can’t possibly keep her locked up in this apartment for the rest of her life.
“If you’re asking when you’ll go back to your old life…”
“No. I don’t want to go back.”
“Good. Because this is your life now. I’m glad you’ve accepted it.”
“But I want to leave this apartment,” she adds.
I grit my teeth. Still, I realize I’ll have to give her a little more freedom of movement at some point.
“If you behave,” I say at last, “I’ll see about opening up the rest of the floor to you. You’ll be able to use the workout room once more and spend time outdoors on the large terrace. There’s a private staircase to the rooftop pool, too. I could give you access to it every so often.”
“I don’t know how to swim.”
“I can teach you. There are a lot of ways I can make life more tolerable for you. But I have to be able to trust you first.”
She nods in a resigned sort of way.
“Tell me,” I ask, unwilling to end our conversation on this note. “Why don’t you want to go back to your old life?”
She remains quiet for a moment. Then she says, “Would you?”
“Would I?” I blink in confusion. “Would I what?”
“Would you want to go back to the Oakley days?”
My voice is cold again, but this time, it’s not directed at her. “That’s different. My father used to beat the shit out of me. I can’t hate him for it, though. That’s what gave me the drive to leave.”
“Why is it different?”
I hate that she’s making me feel slow. I click my tongue, annoyed. “Why is what different?”
“You said your father beat you. Why is that different?”
Anger surges in me as I take in the meaning behind her words. She must see it, because she cringes back. It’s strange how one look can make her cower, but I can stripe her skin red and it barely fazes her. Though maybe it isn’t so strange, given what she’s just revealed.
I lean in, and though I see her body shudder, she stays still. “Where does your father live?”
“He’s dead,” she blurts out.
Right. I’d forgotten about the murder-suicide. Guess it makes sense, if he was abusive.
“Good.” Or maybe, not so good. Because I wish I could kill him myself.
“How about you?” she asks.
“Huh?”
“Where’s your father?”
I smile at her curiosity, though I know I should be trying to quash it.
It’s not a good trait to have, especially when you already have a big red target on your back.
It’s a good thing she doesn’t seem to be aware of it, or I’m not sure what she’d do.
I’m more thankful than ever that she seems clueless about the Cole thing.
Right now, though, all my worry fades at the sound of her cute, squeaky voice. I’ve never heard her speak so much. She really must be hungering for human connection.
“He’s not dead. At least, I don’t think so. I haven’t spoken to him in nearly twenty years.”
“How about your mother?”
“No idea. Haven’t seen her since she abandoned us when I was four.”
“Mine is dead,” she volunteers with a shrug. But I detect a note of sadness in her voice.
I stand up and walk around the table. She cringes from me again as I draw near, and I realize it’s not curiosity that’s made her ask questions. It’s a sort of courage. She’s trying to conquer her fear, but underneath, she’s terrified.
I gather her in my arms, feeling her tremble in my grasp. I sit down on the couch, settling her on me.
“Breathe,” I order, stroking her hair.
She does her best to obey, sucking in long gulps of air.
“Don’t ever make me punish you like that again,” I growl. “I don’t like it.”
“Yes, sir,” she whispers.
I keep her close to me, stroking her until at last, she sinks into my chest, her eyes closing.
Before long, she’s asleep. She looks so beautiful like this, her face pressed to me, her pale cheeks infused with light pink.
I wonder why she falls asleep so easily in my arms. Doesn’t she sleep well at night?
I make a mental note to watch her more often when she’s in bed.
I don’t usually look at the feed once she’s turned the lights off.
Then her body tenses, her eyes darting beneath her purple lids. Words form through her parted lips.
Red… red hands… bloody hands…
She’s having another nightmare. I have no idea what those words mean, but I can tell she’s scared. I hold her to me, shushing her, speaking her name.
“Seraphina. Seraphina!”
Finally, her eyes flutter open and she stares at me in bewilderment.
“You were having another nightmare,” I murmur. “Bloody hands. What’s that all about?”
Her already pale face turns a ghostly shade of white.
“Nothing.”
I look at her quizzically, but her expression betrays nothing.
“Alright,” I say at last. “I’ll stay with you tonight until you fall asleep.”
My heart twists with a pang of remorse when I see how happy those words make her.