Almost.
But not really.
I’d embarrassed him.
I’d defied him.
I’d tried to run away.
Sooner or later, he would be back to exact his punishment.
My pulse raced but I couldn’t stay in the bathroom forever.
I mean, I supposed I could, but I doubted they’d let me remain hidden away. Ignoring the mess of my hands, I pulled the chair away from the door and then unlocked it. A part of me was braced for the door to slam open.
Cold dread curdled in my stomach. This was a thousand times worse than when I’d woken at the clubhouse. Even then, I’d been safer than I’d ever been here. Just wish I’d understood that sooner. Regrets clinging like the droplets of water soaking through my shirt, I opened the door. I didn’t pull the chair out though. If I needed a shower, I needed everything I could between me and the rest of the world.
My company stood in the middle of the bedroom, arms folded, and expression blank. Security.
Relief turned my muscles lax, but I didn’t dare drop my guard. The guy might not be my uncle, but that didn’t mean he was my friend. After all, he’d peeled me off the ground and carted me back.
“Miss Sharpe,” he said in the most impersonal of tones.
“Mr. Whoever-The-Fuck-You-Are.”
His lips thinned as if he tried to smile and failed miserably. “You can call me, Mr. Cole.”
“What. The. Fuck. Ever.” I lifted my chin. “Why are you here?”
“You need to eat.”
I shrugged. “I’m not hungry.”
The man’s smile actually grew more terrifying. “I didn’t ask if you were hungry. My orders are to make sure you eat.” He nodded to the table where a tray of food sat. “I do hope you choose not to cooperate.”
Something in the way he said those last few words sent apprehension up my spine. “Do you get off on abusing teenagers, Mr. Shithole?”
His eyes narrowed. The guy was big. Big like Milo had been big. Big like Liam. But I could almost hear Liam in the back of my head. You’re safer if you get away from him. Guys have a longer reach, you take a risk on getting in close. So, you have to be fast. Look for a weakness Everybody has one.
“Spoiled rotten little princesses who think they can do whatever they want without consequences?” He smirked. “I eat little bitches like you for breakfast.”
“Gross.” I didn’t shudder at the word princesses. I refused to shudder at any of it. Instead, I walked over to the tray and lifted the lid.
Grilled cheese and tomato soup.
My stomach revolted at the sight of it. I loathed tomato soup. It was disgusting.
It was also one of Uncle Bradley’s favorites. He particularly liked it in a bisque. Swallowing bile in the back of my throat, I picked up one half of the sandwich, since it had been cut into two triangles. Facing my unwanted guest, I took a bite of the sandwich. It was like chewing sandpaper and went down just as easily.
“There. I ate.”
“All of it,” he said. “Every bite and drop. Or I’ll pour it down your throat.” He smiled again and nothing friendly lived in that look. “Like I said, feel free to resist. No one is here who cares about what a pouting brat screams.”
A pouting brat?
“Fuck. You.” But I took another bite. He laughed at me, but I didn’t care. I needed the food, even if I didn’t want to eat it. I even choked down the soup. Though I took my time, standing there, chewing each bite at least a hundred times before I swallowed it. I swore he began to twitch. I managed to stretch the meal out for almost an hour. Only when I was done, did I pick up the glass of water, walk in the bathroom and dump it out before I refilled it with water from the tap.
He snorted, but made no move to come near me. The food sat like a hard lump in my stomach. After draining the glass, I set it back down on the tray. And waved a hand at him. “You may take it and leave now.”
The dismissive tone struck a nerve because he clenched a fist and took a step toward me. Lifting my chin, I waited. What was he going to do? Hit me? My uncle didn’t want me bruised up unless he gave me the bruises. A part of me almost wished this guy would hurt me. Hurt me enough they had to take me to a doctor.
But instead of following through with his non-verbal threat, Mr. Shithole Cole picked up the tray and stalked toward the door. He didn’t have to unlock it to open it. Once he was outside, the bolts slid into place.
Locked in again.
They sounded like sliding bolts. What did it matter? I’d never gotten around to learning how to pick a lock. And I didn’t think you could pick one of those anyway. Walking over to the bed, I sat down amidst all the pink frills and lace. I hated this room.
I hated this house.
The locks slid open again and the door shoved inward. I glared at Mr. Shithole-Cole as he walked back in. “The doctor is here to see you.”
“I don’t care.”
The last thing I wanted was one of my uncle’s doctors.
“I was hoping you’d resist.” He stalked across the room toward me and I snatched the lamp off the night table and smashed it against him just as he got to me. He let out a roar of sound, but I was already up and over the bed and out the door. I hauled it closed and threw the locks, then turned and slammed into another man.
Goddammit.
Rock-solid, he glared down at me as he caught me by the arms to keep me from falling. Only he slammed me back against the door and it lit up the bruises on my back. Well, so much for the helpful part. “He said you’d resist,” the man said as he kept me still while he unlocked the door. It yanked inward as soon as the last lock was free. If not for his grip, I would have fallen.
Hand clamped against my nape, Mr. Cole sneered down at me. There was just a trickle of blood trickling from a cut along his hairline.
“You can’t,” the other man told him as Cole started to drag me backwards.
"You heard what he said, if she resisted, we were allowed to punish her.”
“Yeah, and if he finds out you fucked her, he’ll have me cut your dick off.” The new guy was a thousand times scarier than Mr. Cole. He offered the threat conversationally. “Now, stop playing with her and bring her downstairs. The doctor needs to examine her and he wants a full report.”
Cole flexed his fingers against my neck. The minute my not-so-nice-savior turned his back though, Cole bent his head to whisper, “He won’t always be around princess and trust me, you’re going to pay for that, and I’ll take it out of your ass myself.”
If he wanted to play that way.
I screamed.
The sound that ripped out of me came all the way from my toes. The guy ahead of us wheeled around and Cole almost dropped me at the sound. I fell to my knees and sobbed.
“What the fuck did you do?”
“I didn’t do anything to the little bitch.” The implied yet hung in the air.
“Oh, for fuck’s sake.” The new guy caught my biceps in a bruising grip and hauled me off the floor. “Stop crying.” He snarled the words as he brought his face down to mine and we were practically nose to nose. “Or I will let him give you something to cry about.”
My throat tightened at the threat. “I thought you said you’d cut his dick off.”
“I will,” he told me, then grinned. “But you’d still have a reason to cry, wouldn’t you?”