Chapter Four
Amber
His words rang in my ears. If he found out that I was Amber, that would be it. Angela always made it sound like he was disinterested in her as a person, but his passionate declaration and the murderous gleam in his eyes said everything. This was a man obsessed. He wanted her. The only reason I remained alive was because he thought I was her, and the moment he realized who I was, I’d be dead. My father would be dead, and when he learned Angela ran away with another man, death would undoubtedly be a kindness compared to what he would do to her. I couldn’t let him find out.
All my life, I grew up surrounded by criminals. Men who dedicated their life to organizations like my father’s were monsters. They claimed honor, thinking themselves above the ordinary gangster on the street, but they weren’t any better. If they saw something they wanted, they took it. The only difference was they had the funding to get it done without getting caught. My father had police in his pocket. Undoubtedly, Kian had the same. There was nowhere to go. Nowhere to run to, so why was the idea of dying not the worst part?
Kian wanted Angela. Like everyone else in my life, he placed her on a pedestal, adoring her in his obsessive lustful way, and I was only an obstacle. Something to be killed. The same face but completely unworthy of consideration. It didn’t matter that our measurements were the same. Angela had something which transcended her physical form, raising her from just someone randomly gifted with good genes like me to something angelic. Something people fell to their knees in worship of like some hedonistic old god. It was a talent I never understood. One I could only be spiteful and petty and jealous of.
The second I got a chance, I sent encoded messages, pleading with my father, reminding him we’d be returning soon, but he still hadn’t brought Angela back. Though he encouraged me to hang on, I could read between the lines. Once we moved into Kian’s mansion, the switch would be easier as I wouldn’t spend the bulk of my time underneath a husband that was and wasn’t mine.
On our last day in our isolation, Kian had me kneel before him in the office he had barely used. Settled on a pretty pillow like a pet, I waited, fingers tailed in my skirt. He preferred having me in them for easy access, and Angela liked them better anyway. It wasn’t because I wanted to encourage him. He hadn’t asked, but I had seen how he appreciated them. It was a survival measure. It wasn’t because I wanted it.
“I have a collar for you, baby girl,” Kian announced, showing me a leather collar set in a box. “Once it is on, only I can remove it.”
My jaw dropped. “That’s not safe.”
Ignoring my comment, he continued, “It’s proof you’re mine. Proof that you belong to me completely. Do you want it, baby girl?”
“No.” For the first time since my father showed up in my apartment, coming into my life like a wrecking ball, I refused. “I don’t want it.”
Setting down the box, he studied me. I waited to be punished. This would be the moment he hit me. The moment he showed that his touch wasn’t only ever pleasurable, and when I did, he would reveal that I never had any right to refuse at all.
“Oh, baby girl, you’re shaking,” he crooned, and holding out a hand, he beckoned. “Come sit on Daddy’s lap.”
I did, terrified that he would seal the collar around my neck and trap me forever. Terrified how my father would decide to get it off me when Angela came back. Horrified by how much I wanted to belong to him despite knowing that his desire didn’t belong to me. That I could never truly belong to him.
Holding me gently, he spun away, putting his back to the collar. “If you don’t want it, that’s fine, sweetheart. You have a right to say ‘no.’ You always can tell me when things go too far.” Kian pressed his lips to my forehead. “When you’re ready, the collar is there, but if you never are, that’s fine too, baby girl.”
This had to be a trick. He had to be lying. Tears poured down my face, and he gently wiped them away, but if his words were sincere, then that just made this all worse. If I could’ve refused, I should’ve done so earlier. Then I wouldn’t have longed for his touch, becoming addicted to his caresses and the pleasure he brought me.
“Collar or no collar, you belong to me. You’re my sweet little wife. No matter what you do, no matter where you go, you’ll always be mine,” Kian purred, holding me against him tightly. Standing, he strode to our bedroom, and I expected him to fuck me to prove his point, but he just set me down, pressing another kiss to my forehead before he added, “I’ll put the collar away. If you ever want it, just tell me, baby girl. It will always belong to you.”
Kian walked away, working in his study, but I couldn’t stand for a good ten minutes, waiting for him to come back and rail me. When I finally did, I packed, getting ready for the move as my heart thundered in my chest. This had to be a trick. Either he loved Angela that much, which I wouldn’t be able to bear, or this was a trap that would spring when least expected.
That night, he cleaned me out gently, unplugging me and ensuring I was fine before putting everything away. He pressed a kiss to my lower belly, but nothing else came. No finger, no tongue, no sex at all. For the first time in weeks, I laid with him curled at my back without his cum inside me. The expectation of release coiled in my stomach, disappointment crawling inside my skin as the desire cooled. Uncertainty boiled inside, but as his hand rested over my lower belly, I couldn’t help but wonder if I was already pregnant, and somehow, he knew.