Chapter Ten
Quinn lay in bed, but sleep eluded her. How could it not?
The memories played like a porno through her head.
She’d never, in all her sexually active years, felt so fundamentally changed down to her soul.
Awareness had flared in the elevator. Passion flared during their kiss.
Now, she wrestled with the consequences, and fear festered in her stomach. She couldn’t lose this. Lose him.
Her cell rang, jolting her out of her restless thoughts. Frowning, she raised her head off the pillow to grab her phone. Squinting against bright screen, she realized it was the gallery’s security system calling and quickly answered.
“Hello?”
“Hello, is this Miss Quinn Varlet?
“Yes, this is she.”
“I’m calling to report your business alarm has been triggered,” the person on the other end of the line reported. “Could you give the password, please.”
Once Quinn did that, the woman continued. “We’ve tried reaching Mr. Maxence Chevalier but he’s not answering his phone. You are listed as the second contact.”
“Yes, I am.”
“Would you like for me to send the police?”
She remembered Max unloading crates. “No, I’ll go check it out and if I need the police I’ll call them.”
“Very well. We’ll check back with you in half an hour.”
“Thank you,” she said and disconnected the call. For a moment, she wondered if it was Bryan, but she believed Max when he said Bryan wouldn’t be hurting her again. “It has to be Max. He must have triggered the alarm.”
She called him, but like the security agent said, Max didn’t pick up.
She sent a quick text explaining what was going on.
Rising, she dressed quickly and called up a ride share.
Her car was still at the gallery since she hadn’t left Max’s penthouse, but the good thing about living in a huge city was easy access to transportation.
The traffic at 1:00 in the morning had thinned out, so she reached the gallery about fifteen minutes later. After thanking the driver, she exited and marched up to the front door. Unlocking it and punching in the security code. Nothing seemed amiss.
“Max?” she called out.
Still no answer. Then a noise came from the backroom, where the shipping crates were stored.
At first, she didn’t register the noise until a large crash sent her heart shooting into her throat.
Fear washed through her. Quickly, she went to hide behind one of the displays, trying to see the intruder.
Several things came into her mind, trying to rationalize what she had just heard.
Maybe it was Max and he simply couldn’t hear her.
Could it be mice? Ugh. They had had an infestation several months ago in the kitchen which still had her looking around daily to make sure there weren’t little mouse turds lying around.
Silence. No noise, no scurrying of little mice feet, no walking across the floor.
Slowly, quietly, she made her way toward the back, using the displays to hide behind.
Straining her ears to hear anything more.
She neared the storeroom and saw the flashlight.
Fear paralyzed her. The intruder was not Max.
Someone was there, in the gallery, trying to rob them.
She heard the unmistakable sound of canvas being cut.
She didn’t know what to do. Logic told her to call the damn police, but her brain momentarily shut down.
Her breath echoed shallowly through her ears.
As she dialed 9-1-1, she thought she kept the flashlight beam in sight.
Suddenly, the intruder was in front of her, and he knocked her cell phone out of her hands, and the front cracked.
Quinn jerked her head up and their eyes clashed. A scream tore from her throat. The intruder was a hellish brute the size of a tank. How he moved so soundlessly she couldn’t tell, but the wickedly long knife he held was unmistakable.
“There you are,” he mocked. The French accent was heavy in his words. “I’ve been looking for you.”
Quinn had moved beyond fear. Her heart thudded painfully and she desperately wished she had a gun. Her gaze kept flipping back and forth from the knife to his face.
“Who are you?” She tried to sound aggressive but fell far short. “What do you want?”
“I am the man your boss fucked with, and now, he’s going to pay the price.”
She had no idea what he meant by that. “A-are you an artist?”
He didn’t look it, but appearances could be deceiving.
“You’re in the wrong place at the right time.” He licked his lips. “I’m gonna enjoy breaking you in half.”
The evil intent on his face, however, terrified her and she took a step back. “Who are you?” He didn’t answer. Just took a step closer, and in response, she took another step back. “Get out of here.”
“You know that’s not gonna happen.”
His intent was crystal clear. “Take what you want. Please don’t hurt me.”
He raised a hand and cupped his ear. “What did you say?”
Alarm bells were blaring through her body. “Please. Don’t hurt me.”
“Oh, I like you begging.” He licked his lips. “Beg some more.”
“I am begging,” she whispered, backing up more. “I-I won’t say a thing to anyone. I promise.”
“Aw, you see, mademoiselle, that’s not how things work.” He shrugged. “You know my face. You know my name.”
“No,” she quickly said with a shake of her head. “I don’t know your name.”
“Oh, it’s Savage.” He grinned, knowing he got one over on her. “Do you want to know why I’m named that?” She didn’t even respond but he chuckled anyway. “To send a very specific message, I have to get very bloody.”
He grinned and showed off his forked tongue, which explained the hissing.
Savage moved toward her and that’s when she made a move to run up the stairs.
The bathroom had protected her once, she hoped it would again.
The only mantra running through her head screamed faster, faster!
Footsteps pounded behind her, the swish of the knife making her cry out in fright.
Suddenly, he grabbed an ankle and she went down.
Quinn hit her chin hard, but she ignored the pain as her body moved into survivor mode.
She turned around and kicked out. The man grunted and let loose her ankle.
Using the opportunity, thinking she had a chance, a scream burst forth as he grabbed her again.
This time, however, he had her leg. Then her waist. He flipped her over onto her back like her struggling meant nothing.
“I like the fighters,” he said. Everything about him churned her stomach.
“Let me go! W-what do you want?”
“I want to hurt you,” he replied as if it were obvious. “I want to destroy you just as Maxence destroyed my property. Tit for tat, and all that.”
Confusion filled her. Max wouldn’t do that. Would he? Granted, he had seemed different the past week. Dark, or perhaps brooding would be a better term. She had chalked it up to being in his space, but now, she realized it was something entirely different.
Suddenly, he brought the knife up and sliced her t-shirt down the center. Screaming, Quinn thrashed around, trying to dislodge him but he was a boulder sitting on her.
“Maxence has been a thorn in my side long enough,” the animal said. “I’m going to bring him to his knees, and you’re going to help me send a message.”
A moment later, her bra was also cut in the center, and he pushed open the two sides, revealing her breasts. Panic set in.
“No! No, no, no. Please no!”
He ignored her. “Look at these beauties! If I didn’t have my masterpiece in place, I definitely would play with these pert tits.”
He bent his head and licked one nipple.
“No,” she whispered brokenly. Tears rolled down her face. “Let me go. Let me go. Please, let me go.”
Quinn banged her fists against him. She bucked and squirmed hoping to make it impossible for him to rape her. He grabbed one arm and brought it to her side, then lifted his knee and knelt on her hand. She flung her arm around in a futile attempt to not be restrained, but her flailing meant nothing.
“Now, pet, this is going to hurt,” he said, as if he were mentioning the weather. “But this will send Maxence a message not to fuck with things that aren’t his. Soon, I’ll kill every single person of La Famille Lemaire. Comprendre?”
She was beyond hearing anything he said. Sobs wracked her body, her mind consumed with the idea of what he was going to do. Was she going to die?
He laid the tip of the knife against the top of one breast, then he pressed the tip in and pain engulfed her. She screamed over and over as he sliced over the curve, down her sternum, and below the other breast. Carving a broad S on her skin, sealing this moment forever in her brain.
“There now,” he rasped, sounding proud of himself. “Don’t you look pretty? Maxence might share your bed, but I’ll be the one in your head. Every day. Every time you look at yourself in the mirror, you’ll remember me and this moment.”
Then he leaned down and kissed her. Quinn was beyond knowing anything more.
She retreated into a place where pain and degradation couldn’t touch her.
No longer could she feel her body as she drifted into nothingness, far removed from the world and the man who had branded himself not just onto her body, but her soul as well.
She thought he’d rape her, but he didn’t. Instead, he did something far worse.
He put her in purgatory.