I bite down on my lip, squeezing my eyes shut before shaking my head.
“What would you have done if I didn’t show up?” His green eyes penetrate mine in a challenging stare.
“I was leaving.”
He slams his fist into the wall over my head unexpectedly, and I jump. “Unless you had the code, there’s no way you could’ve gotten out of there.”
He’s right. But I didn’t know that when I followed Drew. I presumed the door opened from the inside like a normal door, but I should’ve known better. I’m smarter than this, and my reckless decision could’ve landed me in a lot of trouble.
Of course, I’m not admitting that to him.
“Drew had to return at some point. He would’ve let me out.”
“And what if it’d been your father returning first?” He grips my chin, tipping my face up. “What then, Abby? How would you have explained it?”
“From my vantage point, it didn’t look like Father would leave anytime soon.”
“Your father is anything but predictable. You, of all people, know that.” He rubs his thumb along my lower lip, and his gaze darkens in a way I’m familiar with. A visible shudder passes over him. “If they’d gotten their hands on you.” He squeezes his eyes closed for a moment.
“I must remain a virgin,” I say. “He wouldn’t have let them fuck me.”
He snorts. “There are a lot of other creative ways they can hurt you, Abby. Fuck it.” He thumps the wall again. “You’re too smart to pull careless shit like this.” He rests his forehead against mine. My instinct is to push him away, but I remember I’ve a role to play.
“I wasn’t thinking, but I’m okay. No one saw me, and we covered our tracks.”
“I need you to promise me you won’t go near there again.”
A sour taste floods my mouth. “Trust me, I’ve no desire to revisit.” I cup his face, forcing his head up. “Why were you there?”
His mask comes down. “It was elite business.”
I snort, pushing him away this time, only noticing the custom-fit suit he’s wearing now. “This is comical.” I shake my head. “All that bullshit you spouted about loving me, and protecting me, and you were going there to have sex with underage girls?”
He closes the gap between us, pressing his body against the length of mine, flattening my spine to the wall again. “I was not going there to have sex.” He slams his mouth down on mine before I’ve had time to guess his move. I keep my lips sealed, refusing to kiss him back. Not because I don’t want to betray Kai, although I don’t want to, but because it’s natural in this scenario.
I shove at his shoulders, and his nostrils flare as he’s forced to break the one-sided kiss.
“How dumb do you think I am?” I hiss. “I saw what they were doing down there. And you expect me to believe you were just going to drink and talk shit with those assholes?” I plant my hands on my hips. “This is just like my engagement to Trent all over again.” I narrow my eyes. “You have no intention of being faithful to me, do you? And if you can’t keep it in your pants while we’re engaged, then you certainly have no intention of staying loyal after we’re married.”
“Don’t fucking compare me to him. I am nothing like Trent!” he roars, and I’m kind of proud that I’ve gotten the elusive Charlie to crack a little.
“A likely story.” I step away from him. “You disgust me.” Images of those poor girls materialize behind my retinas, and my stomach drops to my toes as nausea travels up my throat. “I can’t believe you’d do something like that. How could you have sex with someone so young? Especially when they’ve clearly been drugged into cooperating?”
He moves back into my personal space. His previous frustration is gone, replaced with a half-smug look.
Is he pleased at my reaction?
“The only person I desire is you. The only woman I want to have sex with is you.” Spoken like a true politician. Evading the question and expecting it to suffice.
“You can’t touch me until our wedding night.”
He runs the tip of his finger up and down my arm, making my skin crawl. “We both know that’s not true. Your father already believes we’re fucking.”
“It’s not gonna happen.” I glare at him, and he backs down, stepping away and creating some distance between us. He looks contrite, but I don’t know if it’s genuine or not.
“I apologize for kissing you without your permission, and you know I’d never force you or make you do anything you don’t want.”
“I know nothing, Charlie,” I truthfully reply, sauntering toward the couch and flopping down. I kick off my fuzzy slippers, pulling my legs up into my chest. I rest my head on my knees, looking sideways at him as he sits beside me. “I don’t trust you. Don’t trust anyone except myself.”
“Has something else happened?” He angles his body toward me, arching a brow.
“Just that I’ve found out everyone has lied to me and that no one can be trusted.”
“I know I’ve got to earn your trust again, but I’ll show you I’m sincere.”
I lift my head, examining his handsome face for clues. “If you mean that, you can start by telling me what the fuck is going on downstairs.”
“Do you really want to know?”
I nod. “I can’t un-see it now, and—” I close my eyes, hating the images that burn through my retinas. I blink, rage resurfacing. “It’s disgusting, and so wrong, and I feel ill at the thought that’s been going on in the basement of my house for years while I slept up here, ignorant of the depravity taking place under this very roof.”
“This is the world we exist in,” he replies, displaying little emotion. “And I’ve seen far worse.”
“What do you mean?”
“What do you think we’ve been doing at Parkhurst all these years, Abby?” Slipping off his dress shoes, he pulls his feet up onto the couch, bending his knees and leaning back against the arm, so he’s facing me.
“Training? Learning how to take over the family businesses?” I hear how naïve that sounds now. Truth is, for years, that’s what I thought they were doing every year they went there.
I know better now.
“We were training, but it involves a lot more than just physical defense or learning how to manage a business.”
“Like what?”
“Like how to kill a man. How to fuck a woman. How to control and exert power over those who are less than us.”
“Have you killed someone?” I know he’s skilled with a gun. We all are. And after the shootout in the ballroom, I know how experienced all the guys are.
He nods.
“Did you lose your virginity at Parkhurst?” I ask, because it seems the next logical question.
He nods again.
“How old were you?”
“Thirteen.”
My jaw drops. “But you were only a kid.”
“Within the order, you’re a man at thirteen. Losing your virginity at that age is a rite of passage, and one of the initiation tasks.”