“You wanted to cut it at one point, just like you wanted to take ballet lessons, just like you wanted to play the piano professionally. You see me as a monster, putting you on a pretty shelf. I see myself as the one man who knows how to let you be.”
He pulled me back against him, his lips on my neck. “I can’t wait for the day when you look up at me with those gorgeous eyes and say thank you. And truly fucking mean it. Not just because you think I’ll beat your ass if you don’t … which I will.”
I would not cry.
I would not give in.
I simply froze while he held me, wondering why my heart was beating so fast.
“You’ll see. I’m never wrong, especially when it comes to you.”
I bowed my head. “You don’t even know me,” I whispered under my breath.
He grabbed my chin, making me look up at him.
Smiling, he argued, “I know how to make you come. The rest is irrelevant for now.”
CHAPTER FIVE
Juliet
“Get on the bed.”
He sensed my apprehension.
“Juliet…” he cautioned before I slowly walked toward the mattress and sat on the edge.
“Remove the towel.”
I peeked up at him through my lashes to find his eyes still remained dark and callous. Throwing the towel at his feet, he smirked at my attempt to be rebellious. His Adam’s apple moved, walking over to me, each footstep deliberately calculated and precise. He kneeled down to my level, sitting on the soles of his shoes before grabbing my chin, settling it to look directly at him.
“Spread your legs, pet.”
“What?” I asked in confusion, sheer terror, my voice caught in my throat almost like my body was rebelling against his demands.
“You heard me.”
“I-I-I-I…”
“I-I-I…” he mocked in an agitated tone, both infuriating me and making me want to cry.
“Why must you defy me? That pride of yours isn’t doing anything other than making me hurt you. But maybe that what’s you what … for me to hurt you?”
I fervently shook my head; he was insane. “That’s absurd. Why would I want you to hurt me?”
“Then prove me wrong, Juliet. Be a good girl and spread your legs for me. Unless you want me to force you?”
When I didn’t move fast enough, he slapped my thigh. There would be a handprint where he’d struck me, I knew it—like he was marking me everywhere.
“Now!”
I jumped, shaking. “Please…”
“Please what, pet?”
“Please don’t make me do this.”
“You’re sadly mistaken if you think for one second that I care about what you want. You either spread your legs for me, or I’ll spread them for you. The choice is once again yours. Choose wisely because, with the way I’m feeling, I’ll have no mercy on you.”
“Why are you doing this to me? What do you want? Is it money?”
He scoffed out a snide chuckle, letting go of my chin to lean back and sit on the balls of his feet.
“Take a good look around. Does it look like I need money?”
“Then what is it? I don’t understand. Just please make me understand. You at least owe me that.”
He narrowed his devious eyes at me, making me shiver from the expression on his face. I was fully aware I was pushing his limits, but I couldn’t help it. I was a fucking Sinacore. It was in my blood. It was how I was made. I wasn’t used to cowering down to anyone. My family would be so unbelievably disappointed in me. The shame of just thinking about what my father and brother would say seeing me like this…
Naked on a bed.
With a sadistic son of a bitch ordering me to spread my legs.
I could never tell them.
But I could at least know in my soul that I fought, that I tried to become more than the monster in front of me, that while he was making demands, confusing me, dominating me, I could make my own plans—revenge.
“I don’t owe you one damn thing, pet. It’s best if you recognize that.”
I wanted to scream.
Fight.
Kill him.
Not one part of me wanted to spread my legs for his amusement.
“If I do, then what? What happens after that?”
He probably knew I was buying time, but it was all I had. My questions, and it was, unfortunately, the one thing that truly pissed him off.
“Spread your fucking legs, and you’ll find out.”
This was where I truly lost my shit. I had nothing left to lose, nothing to gain.
“Fuck you!”
He growled from deep within his chest and lunged at me.
Instantly, I shouted, “I’m sorry!”
It didn’t matter. I knew it wouldn’t. Although, it didn’t stop me from repeating it over and over like a mantra, “I’m sorry! I’m sorry! I’m sorry!”
He roughly shoved me back onto the bed with his hand over my neck. I thought he was going to choke me, hit me, hurt me in ways I never thought possible.
I wasn’t wrong.
He was going to hurt me, just not in the way I imagined.
My hands instinctively went to his sharp hold over my neck.
“Please! I’m sorry! I’m so fucking sorry!”
“You aren’t”—he leaned forward close to my ear—“but you will be.”
Locking me in place with his tight, crippling grip, he slapped my pussy so fucking hard that my legs just spread open for him. I shut my eyes, not wanting to see what he was going to do next.
“Look at me!”
“No!”
“I said fucking look at me!”
“No!”
He didn’t waver, cupping his hand over my mouth and nose; I couldn’t breathe. Instinctively, I kicked my legs which only made him straddle my body. I thrashed around, at least I tried to, but I was losing air. My oxygen was depleting, and it didn’t help that I was wasting it pitifully trying to fight him off.
I was going to pass out, and at this point, I didn’t give a shit. It meant I didn’t have to look at him, hear him, want to kill him for however long I was out.
Everything started going dark.
Darker.
Black.
Complete and utter opaqueness. Until the only thing I could see was my life playing out for me like a tragic Shakespearian play. I saw it all, starting from when I was little. I went from being with my captor, with his hands around my neck, to being home.
Safe and sound.
Happy.
Loved.
At first, I thought I was dreaming. My head felt heavy, and my body even heavier; the room felt like it was spinning. I was lightheaded, and even though I had just woken up from fainting, I was tired, exhausted even. I slowly moved my head side-to-side, trying to wake up. Only then did I realize there was something on my eyes, keeping me from being able to see or open them.
I should’ve felt fear, but I was drained of any emotion. I allowed it to take over and passed out again. The next time I woke up, I was less hazed, recognizing instantly that my displacement had not changed. I was in the exact same position I was in before.
Except this time, there was what felt like a rope tied around my wrists and ankles, binding my arms to the headboard, and my legs were spread apart, knotted by rope to the bedposts. I couldn’t close them. I wanted to yell, but it came out as a muffled shriek. Nobody was going to rescue me but me, and I couldn’t even get out of the damn ropes or stay awake long enough to scream. Not that it mattered.