Chapter 14 #2
Seconds later, the lock clicks, and the door swings open. Mike’s massive frame fills the space, eyebrow raised, mouth curled in that smug half-smile that makes me want to rip his face off.
“Miss me already, sweetheart?”
I grab fistfuls of his shirt. “Is this your idea of a sick joke?”
His hands come up, resting on my waist. “Gonna need more details on what’s got you all worked up.”
“The box. The fucking blue box. How did you know? Who told you?”
Confusion flickers across his face before settling back into amusement. “No idea what you’re talking about, but I like this energy.” He draws me closer. “Maybe you should show me this box.”
“Don’t play stupid.” But doubt creeps in. His confusion seems genuine. If not Mike, then who? “Did Gabriel put you up to this?”
“Your brother doesn’t share his plans with me. But I’m happy to help you work through whatever’s got you so… passionate.”
He doesn’t know about Knox. About what the blue box means. About that night in the candlelight when I stupidly revealed my weakness to the one person who might actually have cared.
To an illusion.
Did I talk in my sleep, and Mike heard it?
I don’t know what’s real anymore.
I try to twist away, but his hands are locked. “Let go of me.”
“Now, now.” He clicks his tongue. “First you call for me, now you’re playing hard to get? Mixed signals.”
“I’m not playing anything.” I brace against his chest. “Let. Go. I swear to god, Mike, if you don’t—”
“You’ll what?” He backs me toward my bed, kicking the door shut behind him. “File a complaint? Call security?”
“Mike.” I hit the mattress, falling back onto it. “Please.”
“Please?” He plants one knee between my legs on the bed. “Already begging?”
“I’m his sister.” My voice cracks. “If Gabriel finds out—”
Mike’s laugh rumbles through his chest. “You really don’t get it, do you? He knows exactly what happens in here.”
“You’re lying.”
“Am I?” His fingers find my throat, circling it like a collar. “Ask yourself why he assigned me to you specifically.”
His thumb traces my pulse point, and suddenly I’m back in my penthouse, Knox’s gentle touch, his gray eyes full of concern as he apologized for grabbing me during his nightmare.
No. Don’t think about Knox now. Don’t soil that memory with this.
Maybe that’s why my mind conjured him. He makes everything more bearable.
I try to scramble away, but he seizes my wrists, holding them above my head with his other hand.
“We’ve got a good thing going.” He lowers his face to mine, and I turn away. “I look after you, keep you safe. Don’t you want to thank me?”
“I’d rather thank a zombie.”
“You’re gonna regret that attitude.” His lips connect with my cheek, then trail down to my neck. Hot, wet, revolting.
“Stop,” I plead, hating the tremor in my voice. “Please stop.”
“We’re just getting started.”
His thumb digs deeper into my throat, pinning me beneath him as his mouth crushes against mine. His lips are rough, chapped, demanding things that I don’t want to give. I clamp my teeth together, refusing him entry as his tongue probes insistently.
My lungs burn. Not enough air.
“Come on, sweetheart. Open up,” he murmurs. “We both know you need this.”
I twist my head away, gasping as his grip loosens. “Need what? A walking steroid billboard?”
His palm cracks across my cheek. The sting blooms hot, and tears spring to my eyes while another rush of dizziness overwhelms me.
“Still got jokes?” His hand snatches at my top, exposing my breasts. “Let’s see how funny you are when I’m done with you.”
In my peripheral vision, the blue box lies on the floor, diamond glinting in the light.
Knox.
His mouth finds my neck, sucking so hard I cry out in agony. “One day, you’ll be begging me to take you. Begging for it to be me instead of whatever fucker is out there. And trust me, sweetheart. They’re not as nice as I am.”
Black spots dance in my vision.
The door flies open, bouncing against the wall with a crack.
“What is going on here?” My brother’s voice halts Mike’s assault, and I hate the relief flooding through me almost as much as I hate them both.
Mike’s weight still pins me to the mattress, his fingers letting go of my throat. “Sir—”
“Get out.” Gabriel’s face could be carved from marble. “Now.”
Mike scrambles off me. “She called for me, sir. Was upset—”
“I said get out.”
Mike straightens his shirt, shooting me a look that promises this isn’t over. “Yes, sir.”
The door closes behind him, and I salvage what’s left of my torn top over my exposed chest.
My brother approaches slowly, hands in his pockets. “Are you okay?”
I laugh, the sound cracked. “Seriously? That’s what you’re going with?”
“I didn’t authorize that.”
“Your guard dog seemed pretty confident you wouldn’t care.”
Gabriel sighs, running a hand through his perfectly styled hair. “You shouldn’t antagonize him.”
“Right. My fault. I forgot the proper etiquette for being sexually assaulted.”
“That’s not what I—”
“What do you want?” I wrap my arms around myself. “More blood? More tissue samples? A kidney, perhaps?”
He produces a handkerchief from his pocket, holding it out to me. “Your lip is bleeding.”
I stare at the crisp white square of fabric, monogrammed with his initials. I remember the exact day my mother sat in the chair downstairs stitching it.
“Keep it,” I say.
“You always were dramatic.” He sets the handkerchief on my dresser, then moves to the window, looking out at the grounds like he owns the world. Which, in a way, he does now. “Remember when we were kids? That summer at the lake house? You fell off the dock, and I jumped in after you.”
I don’t remember anything remotely like that. “What the fuck are you talking about?”
“I’m trying to remind you that I care about you, Paris. You’re still my sister.”
“Is that why you’re keeping me as a prisoner? Family bonding?”
He turns away from the window, facing me. “This facility is dangerous. The protocols are for your protection.”
“From what? The only danger here is your pet psychopath and whatever the hell you’re doing with my blood.”
He glances at the blue box on the floor, which means I didn’t imagine it. “I’ll have someone else bring your meals up today.”
“Brother of the Year.”
His eyes harden. “Would you prefer Mike back on duty?”
I shake my head, hating my own weakness.
“Then you might want to express some gratitude.”
The words stick in my throat like broken glass. He waits, patient as a snake.
“Thank you,” I grit out, each syllable slicing deep into my heart.
He straightens his perfect suit. “Family is all we have left. Try to remember that.”
He leaves without another word, locking the door. I grab a pillow and curl into myself.
“It’s not real.” Tears burn hot tracks down my cheeks as I scrub at my mouth, desperate to erase him. “Telly, it’s not real.”
Silence.
“Answer me. Please.”
No telescope to talk to here. No plants. No kitchen appliances with personalities.
No Knox.
Just me and a blue box.
It’s not real.
Nothing was.
Gabriel or my own fracturing mind.
The only thing besides me.
It can’t be real.