"Stop procrastinating. Take it off or I will."
I reached behind my back and somehow managed to undo the clasp. Then I slid the straps down one sleeve of my sweater and pulled the whole thing out of the other sleeve.
Theo bent forward toward me, and I shrunk away.
“Stay fucking still.” He flashed the knife, and now I had to do his bidding. My face crumpled, but I didn’t move this time when he leaned in and arranged my clothing, pulling the sweater open wide enough that the inside curves of my breasts could be seen.
I felt disgusting. Like trash. Used, and he hadn’t even used me yet.
Yet.
I sat silent for him, but inside I was screaming.
He sat back on the coffee table, and studied me appraisingly. His eyes darkened. “That's really nice."
I tried to imagine what he liked most about what he saw. The damaged clothing that proved non-consent? The blood trickling down my skin? The hint of flesh that he would soon take as he willed?
I had to lose myself. Where could I go? I could be in the cold, in the snowdrifts of Washington, Connecticut, holding onto Donovan, letting him kiss me warm.
"I would've gotten off,” Theo said, turning back to the earlier conversation. “I had the better lawyers. That woman couldn't afford shit for lawyers. And that's what really matters in these cases."
Jesus, he was such a sick fuck.
I wanted to ignore him, and I tried, tried to live in Donovan's arms, in the cold, in the snow. But I could still hear Theo's voice penetrating my fantasy.
"Then Donovan Kincaid shows up with his million-dollar law team and suddenly the trial goes an entirely different direction. That is not how that should've gone down. What the fuck was with that? Why did Donovan care about me? It didn't make any sense." He was angry and animated.
He paused to pull on his beer bottle before going on. "So I’ve been in jail. And I've had time to think about it. You have a lot of time to think in there. I thought about you—about that night outside The Keep clear back at Harvard. I have to admit I couldn't remember your name for a while. I wasn't sure that you were the connection, even with that history."
He set the bottle down, and leaned forward again, his elbows on his thighs. "But then two things happened." With one hand he held up a single finger. "First, I was told I was getting early parole at the end of the week.” He held up a second finger. “Second, the day after I came home, my brother said he'd been at a wedding with Donovan, and his girlfriend was some chick named Sabrina Lind."
I'd been scared about how he’d violate my body since the minute he’d shown up in the hallway. Now I was terrified that wasn’t all he had in mind.
"Yeah," Theo said registering my fear with a new gleam in his eye. "All the pieces fell together for me.” He stretched forward and set one finger at the base of my throat, right where my pulse was. My heart was pounding, and now he could feel it. He could actually feel my fear.
I didn't move.
I didn't breathe.
I tried to will my heart not to beat.
After a few seconds, he trailed his finger downward, between my breasts where sweat had gathered, through the blood that stained my skin. “Kincaid put me in jail as some sort of revenge for you. Which is bullshit." His volume increased sharply on the word bullshit, making me jump.
He sat back again and brought his finger to his mouth to suck on. Calmer, he said, "I never even got to fuck you. There was no reason for revenge."
I was shaking again, or shaking more; I’d never really stopped.
How could I get out of this? How could I possibly get out of this?
“You don't want to do anything to me. You just got out of jail. You don't want to go back." Jesus, I was begging. Did begging even work with predators? I couldn't remember what I'd read over the years.
"Why not? Did you know I have to register as a sex offender for the rest of my life? No one's going to give me a job on Wall Street. I'll never get to work with money with a prison history. I really don’t have much to look forward to, Sabrina, besides this." His eyes narrowed into slits as he hissed, “Nothing's fucking taking it away from me."
He had nothing to lose. That made him more dangerous now than he’d been a decade ago.
I sucked my lower lip under my teeth, and tried not to cry.
He retrieved my phone from his pocket. "What was the code again?"
I told him, and he entered it into the screen.
"This wasn't me though," I said, trying to find a way to reason with him. "I wasn't the one who stopped you that night, even. And I had nothing to do with Donovan getting involved in your case." It was all true, but I felt like the most terrible person in the world to pretend I hadn't wanted Donovan to save me. To pretend I wasn't proud of the actions he'd taken against Theodore.
But this was about survival. Whatever I needed to do to get out of this. Whatever I needed to say, I’d say it.
"That doesn't really matter, like I said. This is about what will hurt Kincaid." He glanced at me. "I'm pretty sure hurting you is going to hurt him more than anything else I could do to him. Plus, this is going to be pretty damn fun for me. I haven’t been able to play in a long, long time."
He slipped my phone back into his pocket. "You and Kincaid don't text much, huh? Was sure a sweet shot of your pussy you sent him, though. Makes me nice and hard." He rubbed a hand over his erection.
Bile crept into the back of my throat. I swallowed it down.
I’d only sent one picture in all the time I’d been with Donovan. The picture with his initials drawn on my skin in an intimate region. It was probably the only naughty picture on my phone. Of course that's what Theo would find.
I started rocking back and forth now, hugging myself. And the whimper I’d been trying to hold down returned.
"What are you going to do to me?" I knew already. He’d basically already said. But I didn't know the details, and maybe if I knew them, maybe if I heard him say the words, I could better prepare myself for what was coming.
Who was I fooling? There was nothing that would prepare me for this. Tears streamed down my face.
Theo cocked his head. "I haven't decided yet."
"Really?" I could hear the stupid waver of hope in my voice.
He laughed, a big hearty laugh. "Oh, I'm going to fuck you. I just haven't decided how I'm going to like it most."
I pressed my thighs together instinctively.
And then, when I saw how much my fear and panic turned him on, I jumped and ran, darting for my bedroom. It was automatic. Spontaneous. I didn’t think; I just did. It wasn't like the bedroom was any safer. It was simply… away.
I didn't make it very far before he grabbed me. Wrapping his arms around my waist, he lifted me off the ground in a horrible parody of the scene with Donovan at Weston’s wedding. I kicked and screamed, which earned me his hand on my throat. My scream transformed into a choked gurgle.
"I told you to shut the fuck up." He dumped me face down on the couch, and held me with one hand at my neck, while the other pinned one of my arms at the small of my back.
I managed to turn my face so I could breathe, so I could see the room. He had knocked over the beer bottle when he bolted after me. It lay only a couple of feet from me now, the remains spilled but unbroken. I watched it roll towards the fireplace and wondered if that would be my focal point while this asshole raped me.