“You can take your call downstairs,” Damian said pointing at the door to the dungeon as if that wasn't the door she'd emerged from when the tantalizing smell of cooking bacon had drifted down the stairs.
“Okay.” Shannon said, avoiding his gaze, trying not to blush. She got up from the table, quickly eating the last bit of omelet and bacon and took the phone downstairs into the much more private and secluded space. She glanced at the huge rumpled bed at one end and then walked to the other end to look again at the painting Hunter had made.
“How are you doing?” Lindsay asked as she stared into her own haunted eyes on the canvas.
“Why am I here? Why did you leave me with him?” It sounded like an accusation.
“Has he mistreated you?” Lindsay asked.
“No, but... why did you just give me to him like that? Am I really staying here until Monday?”
“Yes, you really are,” Lindsay said, sounding a bit annoyed. “I thought you'd enjoy the time out of the house. And I know you like Damian.”
“Yes, but... why?” She tried to ignore the comment about liking him. Damian Brand was an objectively beautiful man. What woman wouldn't like him? And besides that wasn't the point.
“Would you do whatever I asked of you if it pleased me?” Lindsay asked.
“Yes, Master,” she said. She still could hardly believe she'd gone so quickly from thinking she hated the doctor to... this devotion that all at once seemed to consume her.
“Well it pleases me to share you on occasion with Mr. Brand. So be a good girl for him, and I'll see you on Monday.”
“Wait.” She wasn't ready to not hear his voice for another two whole days.
“Yes?”
“A-are you mad at me? D-do you not want me anymore?” she asked, hating how insecure and stuttery she sounded.
“Of course I'm not mad at you,” Lindsay scoffed. “You haven't done anything wrong. Damian has taken an interest in you, and he's a good friend. I expect you to please him while you're with him. Disobedience to him is the same as disobedience to me. Is that understood?”
“Yes, Master.”
“Good. I'll see you Monday.”
The call ended, and she stood there, staring at the phone, while her bare feet absorbed the cold from the concrete floor. She startled again when Damian's shoes echoed off the steps into the wide open space below as he descended.
His timing was way too convenient. Had he been standing at the top of the stairs with the door cracked open eavesdropping on the call? She tried to recall everything she'd just said. Had she said anything on the phone that might offend Damian when she'd thought she'd been having a private conversation?
He held out his hand, palm up, and she instinctively shrank back.
“My phone,” he said.
“O-oh. Sorry.” She knew it was silly to act this way. If Damian was a friend and Lindsay trusted him, of course she was safe. But he was still practically a stranger to her, and she didn't have the best track record of safety and security with men.
Shannon had the strong underlying fear that she was a very bad judge of what was safe or good for her. After all she'd let Andrew collar her, assuming they'd be together forever, and he'd just dumped her for some other girl without a second thought about it. Then she'd stupidly gone to the house, where she'd stupidly mouthed off to Brian and nearly died. Now here she was with someone else who wanted to play with her freedom and her life. And though she hadn't chosen this particular man or situation, she still didn't trust herself.
Maybe that was the one good part of this. She hadn't chosen Damian. If he hurt her, it would be Lindsay's fault, not her own. She thought this realization should comfort her, but it didn't.
She edged closer and handed Damian the phone. He slipped it into the back pocket of his jeans. Then he crossed his arms over his chest and simply regarded her for a few moments.
“I think I'm ready to cash in my rain check,” he said, finally.
“What?” Shannon took an involuntary step back, knowing as she did so that there was only a few feet of open space behind her before she'd hit the wall with nowhere left to go.
“Was our time together in Lindsay's office that forgettable? Your seams weren't straight. Lindsay asked if I wanted to punish you, and I decided to take a rain check, to make it... memorable.”
Memorable.
The last man who had wanted to make a punishment memorable had scarred her for life. Shannon held out her hands, placating. “Please,” she whimpered, backing up until she hit that damned wall.
She didn't know what had come over her but she felt the panic rushing in all at once. Starting with begging seemed like the smart move. Don't resist. Don't smart off. Just beg, and... hope. Hope he wasn't like Brian. Hope he wouldn't hurt her. Hope he didn't decide she needed to be fixed and he had just the tools to do it.
Damian moved closer, but there was still space between them. Enough to run, to slip past him up the stairs? But if she did that... what then? Would it set him off? Would it set in motion a chain of events that nobody could save her from? Suddenly she was very aware of the isolation of this huge house beside the sea—not another living thing outside for miles except seagulls.
“Shannon...” he said.
“Please... don't.” The tears already flowed down her cheeks. She could hear Brian's knife moving along the stone walls of the dungeon. Shannon cringed as the memory of the pain searing through her flesh came back to vivid crisp sensation in her mind. And all she could do was whimper.
Damian watched as she seemed to huddle in on herself, almost like she'd gone someplace else entirely. She slid down to the floor, her head in her hands sobbing out the words, “No, please... no no no, I'll be good. Please, I promise. I promise I'll be good.”
Lindsay had said nothing about this. Yes, Damian knew about the sadistic psychopath that had hurt her so many years ago—marking her forever. And of course that wasn't something you just got over.
But Lindsay had punished her without much problem. And she'd seemed fine in the times Damian had seen her, both on video and in person. Then again, Lindsay had saved her life, and she'd known him for years before he'd ever touched her. Damian was still an unknown quantity. He tried to see it from her perspective.
He moved quietly to sit on the ground beside her and pulled her trembling body into his arms, stroking her hair.
“Shhhhh. Shannon calm down. It's okay. Shhhh I won't hurt you. The seams are just a game. I don't care about the seams.” It was foolish to start with something like this. It was just that what they'd done in Lindsay's office that day, and last night the events at the opening and the party... it was easy to forget her damage even as it glared off her flesh. He suddenly wanted to rip that motherfucker's head off his body.
How could she live in the same house with someone who'd hurt her like this?
“You trust the doctor, don't you?” he asked, gently.
She nodded, her head pressed against him. Her hands clutched at his shoulders now, her fingernails digging in through the fabric of his shirt.
“You know he'd never leave you with someone who would hurt you, right?”