Ensnared (The Bitter Vow #1)

Chapter 1

I ducked down in my cubicle as Vaughn trolled the floor. My heart raced, knowing he was here for me. Again. Always for me. Ten years of this, and still my palms grew clammy at the thought of another encounter.

"Has anyone seen Josephine?" I heard him ask, his voice carrying that edge of entitlement I'd come to loathe.

I snatched the folder from my desk, my fingers trembling slightly. The irony wasn't lost on me - living on the Ashworth Estate had given me the right to attend Windmere High, but it had also put me squarely in Vaughn's crosshairs.

As I crept along the edge of the office, memories flooded back. The sneers of wealthy classmates, the whispers. And Vaughn, always Vaughn, his attention shifting from boyish taunts to something far more predatory as we'd grown older.

I ducked as I passed the reception desk, praying he wouldn't spot me. The copy room beckoned - a sanctuary of whirring machines and solitude. I slipped inside, letting out a shaky breath as the door clicked shut behind me.

The steady hum of the copier soothed my frayed nerves as I began my task. I was so focused on the monotonous rhythm that I didn't hear the door open. Didn't sense his presence until his hands slid around my waist.

I stiffened, my blood turning to ice. "You look beautiful today," Vaughn purred, his breath hot against my ear.

Every instinct screamed at me to fight, to run. But I knew better. Struggling only excited him more. I swallowed hard, keeping my voice steady. "I have work to do," I said curtly.

He ignored me, brushing my hair aside to plant a kiss on my neck. My skin crawled at his touch. "You can take a few minutes," he murmured. "Let me take you to dinner."

A humorless laugh escaped me. "So I can end up another notch in your bedpost?"

His teeth grazed my earlobe, sending a shudder of revulsion through me. "You're the only woman to deny me."

Something snapped inside me. I dug my nails into his hands, relishing his yelp of pain as he released me. I spun around, shoving him hard in the chest. "For good reason," I spat, my eyes blazing with a decade of pent-up fury.

For a moment, Vaughn looked genuinely shocked. Then his lips curved into a predatory smile, making my blood cold. "Oh, Joey,” he said softly. "You know I love a challenge."

I winced as Vaughn used my nickname. Joey was reserved for family and close friends - a circle he'd never be part of. "Go find someone else," I snapped, trying to inject venom into my voice to mask the tremor of fear.

Vaughn's hand shot out, grasping my chin. His citrusy cologne assaulted my senses, turning my stomach. "There is no one else," he growled, his eyes dark with obsession. "You're the only one who denies me, and I don't like it."

My mind raced back to that night when I was fifteen—young, naive, and desperate to fit in.

The Ashworths were away, and Vaughn's party seemed like my chance to finally belong.

I swallowed hard, pushing away the memory of his experienced hands, the heat of his lips against mine, and the way his fingers had teased my inexperienced body.

It had been my first kiss. Intoxicating. Terrifying. A moment of weakness I'd spent years regretting.

With a jerk of my head, I wrenched my chin from his grasp. "You should be used to it by now," I hissed, slipping away from him. "Because it won't change."

Vaughn's eyes flashed dangerously. He lunged forward, grabbing my arm and yanking me against his chest. "Why?" he growled, his breath hot on my face. "What makes you so special?"

I met his gaze defiantly, even as my heart hammered in my chest. "I'm not special, Vaughn," I said, my voice low and steady. "But I don't have meaningless sex like you do, trying to prove God knows what."

Memories of Yale flooded back - my scholarship, my brother's protective presence, and Vaughn's notorious reputation that seemed to follow him everywhere.

Women threw themselves at him, and rumors of his conquests ran rampant.

I'd heard whispers about an economics professor and office hours that made my skin crawl.

"You can't resist me forever, Joey," Vaughn murmured, his lips brushing my ear. "We both know how good it could be."

I planted my hands on his chest and shoved with all my might. "That ship sailed long ago, Vaughn," I spat. "Now get out of my way. Unlike you, I actually have work to do."

As I stormed past him, my shoulder colliding with his, I felt his eyes burning into my back. This game of cat and mouse had gone on far too long. Something had to give - and I was terrified of what that might mean.

I slid into the café chair across from Logan, my shoulders tense. The lobby bustled with lunchtime activity, but I could only focus on my brother's piercing gaze.

"Where the hell were you?" Logan demanded, his voice low but sharp.

I averted my eyes, fidgeting with my napkin. "Nowhere," I mumbled, knowing how unconvincing I sounded.

Logan's eyes narrowed as he pushed my requested turkey wrap across the table. He leaned in, his voice dropping to a whisper. "Did that bastard put his hands on you?"

My stomach churned. Logan knew about Vaughn's obsession, but I'd always downplayed the extent of it. I forced a weak smile. "No, he's all bark and no bite."

My brother took a bite of his sandwich, chewing slowly as he studied my face. "You always say that," he said after swallowing. "I find it hard to believe he hasn't touched you."

I sighed, feeling the weight of my secrets. "Logan, I would tell you if he hurt me."

"You're a beautiful girl," Logan persisted. "Why wouldn't he be interested?"

"There are plenty of beautiful girls with better breeding than me," I countered, my voice bitter. "He doesn't want me, he just wants to bully me."

Logan's gaze suddenly shifted, focusing on something over my shoulder. I turned, my heart sinking as I spotted Vaughn striding across the lobby with his sister, Simone.

My fingers clenched around my wrap. Simone had been the bane of my existence in high school, and though her torment had lessened now that we worked on different floors, her mere presence still set my teeth on edge.

As they passed, Simone's eyes locked onto mine for a moment. Her lips curled into a smirk that sent a chill down my spine. I turned back to Logan, my appetite suddenly gone.

"You okay?" he asked, concern etched on his face.

I nodded, forcing myself to take a bite of my wrap. As I chewed, I thought about the Ashworth family - the ruthless Colson, the cruel Simone, the obsessive Vaughn. Only Easton, the youngest, had ever shown me kindness.

"You know," Logan said, breaking into my thoughts, "You don't have to stay here. We could find jobs somewhere else, somewhere without all this... baggage."

I shook my head. "This is our chance, Logan. We can't throw it away because of a little discomfort."

Logan's expression darkened. "A little discomfort? Joey, this is…."

"I can handle it," I cut him off, my voice firmer than I felt. "Really, I can and think about the wrath that would fall on Mom and Dad if we left."

Our parents not only lived on Colson’s property but also worked for him. My father was the supervisor of the landscaping crew, and my mother did most of the cooking for the Ashworth family. They would be in jeopardy if we up and left unless we could take them with us and support them.

My brother shut his mouth because he knew what I meant. Neither of us had enough experience to get another job, and without it, Colson would ensure that we never got another job in the finance field.

As we finished our lunch in tense silence, I couldn't shake the feeling that something was about to happen. It was the way when you were scared, and the back of your neck prickled. I felt it in the air.

I was thankful Vaughn went on a business trip.

I could breathe until he came back; however, Colson was still in the building.

The office atmosphere shifted palpably on Thursday.

A ripple of hushed whispers spread through the cubicles, growing in intensity until the elevator doors slid open.

Colson Ashworth stepped out, his presence bringing an almost tangible chill to the air.

I shrank down in my seat, memories of childhood fear flooding back. Colson had always been a looming, intimidating figure - gruff, rude, and seemingly incapable of warmth, especially towards children.

As he strode past, his cold gaze sweeping the office floor, I couldn't help but think of his late wife, Poppy. She had been Colson's polar opposite - warm, vibrant, able to light up a room with her mere presence. Everyone had loved Poppy.

My chest tightened as I remembered the day we learned of her death twelve years ago.

A car accident caused by faulty brakes - it had been devastating.

But the aftermath... I suppressed a shudder.

Colson's revenge had been swift and merciless.

He'd ensured the mechanic received a life sentence and then systematically destroyed the man's family, leaving them financially ruined.

As Colson disappeared into the elevator, the tense atmosphere lingered. I found myself grateful for Vaughn's business trip, providing a brief respite from his relentless pursuit. But with Colson prowling the halls, I realized there was no true escape from the Ashworth family's influence.

I turned back to my computer, trying to focus on my work.

But a nagging feeling persisted - a sense that the fragile balance I'd been maintaining was about to be upended.

With Colson on the warpath and Vaughn's inevitable return looming, I couldn't shake the feeling that I was caught in the calm before a storm.

I was elbow-deep in soapy water, scrubbing away at the remnants of our modest dinner of spaghetti when the door creaked open. The clock on the wall ticked past 8 p.m., and I felt a twinge of worry. Mom was later than usual.

"Joey, what are you doing?" Her voice, tinged with exasperation, cut through the quiet of the kitchen.

I glanced over my shoulder, taking in her weary form. "Cleaning," I replied, turning back to the sink.

"You worked all day. You should rest," she chided, her footsteps approaching.

I frowned, my hands stilling in the lukewarm water. "Mom, you worked all day too. Why are you so late?"

She let out a heavy sigh, and I could practically hear her eyes rolling. "That Vaughn!" she exclaimed. "He decided to have a little get-together last minute and asked for some appetizers."

My nose wrinkled involuntarily, anger bubbling up inside me. "I hate that jerk," I spat, the words tasting bitter.

Mom's finger flew to her lips, her eyes darting nervously as if the walls had ears.

Our tiny home at the corner of the sprawling Ashworth estate suddenly felt claustrophobic.

I remembered the woods just beyond, where I'd spent countless childhood hours lost in books until Vaughn inevitably found me.

"You can't talk that way," Mom hissed. "We're guests of the Ashworth family."

I turned to face her fully, suds dripping from my hands. "Mom, they take advantage of you and Dad," I insisted, my voice low but intense.

From the small living room off the kitchen came a loud snort. Dad, half-asleep in his armchair, seemed to agree even in his slumber. The sound hung in the air between us, a silent testament to the truth we all knew but rarely spoke aloud.

I turned back to the sink, my voice barely audible over the gentle splash of water. "You know it's true. Maybe by next year we'll be away from here."

The words hung in the air, heavy with hope and desperation. I scrubbed at a particularly stubborn spot on a plate, my mind wandering to thoughts of Logan and me, finally free from the Ashworths' clutches.

The Ashworths. Their name alone was enough to make my skin crawl. They owned most of Windmere Haven, their influence seeping into every nook and cranny of our little town. What they didn't outright possess, they had their fingers in. I hated it with every fiber of my being.

I rinsed the last dish, my movements slow and deliberate as I considered our options.

The dream of leaving, of never looking back, was intoxicating.

But even as I entertained the thought, a bitter reality settled in my gut.

Even if we managed to scrape together enough to move to Manhattan, the Ashworths' long reach would still cast its shadow over us.

I dried my hands on a dishtowel, turning to face my mother. Her eyes met mine, and I saw my own weariness reflected there. "Mom," I began, my voice low and urgent, "we can't keep living like this. There has to be a way out."

She opened her mouth to respond, but before she could, a sharp knock at the door made us both jump. My heart raced as I wondered who could be calling at this hour – and whether they had overheard our whispered rebellion.