“This one should do.” He holds up a red, satin gown.
My head lifts, slowly. Staggering breaths escape through my gritted teeth. “Fuck you.”
Byron laughs in a mocking tone. “Eventually.”
Fuck saving my strength. I should jump on this bastard right now and dig my dirty nails into his perfectly-sculpted cheeks.
“Callum was obsessed with finding you, Bella. I’ve never seen a man so hell-bent on capturing a woman in my entire life—even as an attorney for psychos and stalkers. For years, he planned for you.” Byron slouches down in front of me, slipping off my shoes. “The thing is, I’m not sure if he loved you more than he loved his empire. He planned on marrying and impregnating you just so that I could be taken off his will,” he laughs. “Who fucking does that?”
Impregnating me? Cal mentioned marriage, but he never mentioned a baby.
Why am I even listening to this asshole?
My eyes roll, looking away from him. “Quit speaking of him in the past tense. Loves me.” I raise my voice. “Not loved. Besides, you’re lying. Cal had me take birth control just because he didn’t want a baby.”
That laugh again. I never imagined a simple sound could infuriate me so much. “Shows how gullible you are. Don’t feel bad, I fell for his games, too. He swore he’d never get married or have kids, and I’m the dumbass who believed him while thinking my place in his will was secure.” Byron begins pulling at the straps of the gown like a demented maniac. “That fucker doesn’t give a damn about you. You’re his escape clause—the future wife he never wanted. All he cared about was getting me out.”
The threading of one of the straps comes undone, and he holds it up with an ominous grin. “Looks like we need to find you a new dress.”
God, Cal. Please come save me from this lunatic. There is no saying what lengths Byron will go to at this point.
I’ll deal with Cal’s lies later. If there even are lies. I’m not sure why Byron would insinuate that I was gullible when it comes to taking birth control, but the guy talks in circles and I’m having a hard time believing anything he says right now.
Byron returns from the closet with another dress. This one is form-fitting and black velvet. “I’ve always liked black more than red. How about you?”
I just sit there, looking at him and waiting for his next volatile move.
He tosses the dress at me. “Put it on.”
My eyes wander to the dress. Gaping at it like it’s coated in anthrax.
“Now!” Byron snaps. “Or else I’ll put it on you myself. I’ve been wanting to get under those clothes, ever since I watched Callum fuck you on that piano. “
“How do you know about that?”
“Because I was watching. I heard every moan, saw every kiss, and watched every thrust as he pounded your pussy that night. I won’t lie and say I wasn’t jealous that it was him getting all the action.”
I stand up, grab the dress and throw it at him. “You’re the one who recorded me playing, aren’t you? You said it was Cal, but it was you.”
A smirk parts his lips. “It was a beautiful song.”
“How long have you had this planned out?”
He doesn’t answer, just throws the dress at me again. “Put the fucking dress on, Bella. Don’t make me take what I want because you want to behave like a stubborn little cunt.”
His words should cut deep, but they don’t. They only make my impending victory that much sweeter. Byron will not get away with this.
In the end, he will lose, even if I pretend.
“Fine,” I snatch up the dress. “I’ll put it on. If you promise me a dance.” The thought makes my skin crawl, but I’m willing to do whatever it takes. It’s time to repay Byron for knocking me out and holding me against my will. We’ll see how he likes it.
Byron's eyes dance across my body, his mouth drawn up in a smile. “A dance?”
Gripping the ends of my sweatshirt, I lift up and peel it off, exposing my bra to him. I feel sick for what I’m about to do. “Mmmhmm. In the ballroom. Just like my dance with Cal. I’ve always loved dancing.”
Cal used to say that without trust you are useless. If I gain Byron’s trust, then maybe I’ll be of use to him, maybe even sway his plans. At the very least, distract him when and if Cal arrives.
His eyes never leave my peeping cleavage. My fingers trail downward, painting the way to the cup of my bra. I bite the corner of my lip. “What do you say?” Bypassing my breasts, I keep going until I’m at the waistband of my pants. I push them down, stepping out one leg at a time until I’m standing there in nothing but my bra and panties, feeling more exposed than I ever have in my life.
“Umm. Yeah. I guess a dance wouldn’t hurt.”
Hook. Line. Sinker.
“Great. Now if you don’t mind, I need to get changed.”
Byron clears his throat. “I’ll just…” His thumb shoots over his shoulder. “I’ll just be outside the door. No funny business.”
“Byron,” “I chuckle, “I’m not Rapunzel. I can’t escape from this tower. I’ll be out in a minute. Promise.”
“Wouldn’t matter if you were. You should know by now, you can’t escape the island.” He heads for the door, but stops midway in the room. “And don’t think I’m falling for your little reverse psychology tactic. I know you hate me. But one day, we will learn to tolerate one another.”
Tolerate him? Never! I’m not sure why it's even necessary, but I’m beginning to feel like this is a permanent placement and not a temporary stay. Just like last time I was here. Only, this is different—I hate Byron with every fiber of my being, whereas Cal held a piece of my heart.
This could be harder than I thought. Byron isn’t going to be an easy one to crack, but I have to gain his trust somehow. I still feel pretty out of it, but I’m coherent enough to make rational decisions. At least, I hope I am.
I just know Byron did something to Cal. Even if I don’t believe he’s dead, I know he was behind his disappearance.
Byron chews on his bottom lip, glaring at me, before he turns and leaves. The door closes behind him, and my smile instantly drops. I mutter under my breath, “Asshole.”
CHAPTER FIVE
I step into the black gown and slide my arms beneath the thin spaghetti straps. Reaching back, I zip it up as far as I can reach, knowing that I’ll need to ask for help to get it all the way up.
An eerie feeling washes over me. It wasn’t long ago that I was in this room and Peter was waiting outside the door to zip me up. He was such a gentleman. This time, Byron is out there and the thought of his filthy fingers grazing my skin is as appealing as getting my fingers chopped off. For what it’s worth, I prefer the latter.
In the closet, I pull down a pair of flat sandals and put them on. Screw heels. I’m done with them.
Without even bothering to look in the mirror, I walk to the door. It doesn’t matter that my makeup from last night is probably smeared all over my face. My fingers rake through the matted mess of my hair, and I don’t care about that either. I have zero interest in looking presentable for this asshole, so he can take it or leave it.