6. CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER FIVE

Marcus

I t's just us now. Leighton's sleeping body in the passenger side.

The neighborhood of two-story houses on our street disappears behind us. Next, the palm trees on either side of the main road.

I'm not going fast enough. Even though there's no sign of a red Mini in my rearview mirror, I feel like I'm moving too fucking slow.

Driving just below the speed limit infuriates me. My instincts scream at me to put the pedal to the floor. To get as far away from my home as possible.

No can do.

Being pulled over by the cops will waste precious time. They'll take the knocked-out Leighton from me. Put her back in harm's way.

This beautiful, sleeping girl of mine. They won't have her. No one will.

I already risked her life back home. A mistake I won't repeat.

My fingers clench on the steering wheel, my molars grinding. I saw this coming a mile away, and I still got close. Too fucking close.

Rylan didn't let it slide. She's had Leighton in her sights for a while now. The NyQuil bottles were a red flag I should've taken more seriously than I have.

I've been a fool to think my daughter would let our stolen glances and recent flirting slide. An irresponsible bastard to believe that if she's swimming, my predator of a daughter won't notice what I'm doing.

Nothing gets past her.

She caught us. My only child has a sixth sense when it comes to me and other women.

Ry sniffs them out like a bloodthirsty vampire.

Flashes them her charming smile and pearly whites.

They always miss her canines. Until it's too late.

Leighton suspected something was wrong, I could tell. Her lips twitched at Rylan's forced smiles over the past couple of days.

Leighton didn't— couldn't —recognize them for what they truly were. A warning. A Back the fuck off sign.

I could. I fucking should've. Besides the fact that reading people is what I do for a living, I see through Rylan's maniacal grins. I'm familiar with them .

Unease and self-loathing swirl in my stomach. My mind suppresses the horrible memories Ry's forced smiles evoke. I've enabled my daughter for too long. Let her get away with so much.

Leighton, though, is where I draw the line.

Despite the distance I've put between us—despite not giving her the attention I crave to shower her with—I still love Leighton. Have loved her for over four years.

There's no doubt in my mind that she's the love of my life. No one will take her from me.

I could feel this day coming. Prayed it wouldn't, but knew that at one point, I'd snap. Step out of line. Say the words I've been choking on for way too long.

The day I'd have to steal Leighton away.

Hence the preparations I've had set in motion years ago.

Building a secret home for us in a secluded location in Malibu, an hour and a half away from Rylan. Filling it with things Leigh and I will need. Hiring contractors and a cleaning lady whose services I pay for in cash.

That was what I'd been up to while the girls had been in Texas.

This obsession for Leighton isn't healthy, that's a given. It's also what's saving her life. I refuse to feel guilty for it.

Hell, I'm grateful for my madness.

I sneak a glance at my sleeping beauty. Determination and righteousness fill me anew at the sight of her thick lashes resting on her pink cheeks.

Things should've been different between us. I could've made it happen. Me .

One option was letting her go. I did it over the last four years. Only visited them at college over Thanksgiving break. Restricted our conversations to hi, how are you? Happy Thanksgiving, bye.

Over those numbered, painful visits, I made sure to keep my fucking distance so Ry wouldn't hurt her when I went back to Santa Barbara. I did the same while they came back here over summer break.

Nothing happened to Leighton while they were in college.

But as the move to New York neared, I just couldn't do it. I refused to let her go though I tried, my God, did I try. I was the one to encourage them to move across the country for crying out loud. To learn about the world all on their own.

Leighton won't be learning about the world. She'll be here, with me.

I should've guessed I was going to keep her the moment my sick instincts took over and had me tampering with her pills.

Can't say I regret it.

It . What's this it , really?

Focus. Analyze. Just like you do with your patients.

Fine, I can do that. In my case, it is my obsession. The one I've been acting on over the last two weeks.

Planning. That's what I've been up to. Actually planning, not just fantasizing about it. That's why I made the proper arrangements.

While Leighton sleeps, I dial Hazel's— the housekeeper of my deserted glass house— number and request her to stock my fridge in the next thirty minutes. Have her fill it with food that Leighton likes. Fish, grass-fed meat. A plethora of dairy products as well as quinoa, rice, pasta, bread and flour. Leighton's favorite brand of peanut butter. Fresh organic fruit and vegetables.

Anything my girl might want or need.

I tell Hazel to hurry, and she's quick to hang up. That soothes me. Even though Leigh and I are on the run, I'm comforted by the knowledge she'll be fed and happy.

Unless she keeps telling me we can't be together.

Unless she repeats the words that made me flip in the garage.

We were flirting. We were close. For the first time in my life, I was willing to fight my daughter for the woman I wanted.

Then Leighton said those words. Words that mean she'll move and never think of me again.

Her daisies and sunshine would be a distant memory.

Someone else would recognize Leigh for the treasure she is.

Another man would put his filthy hands on her. Marry her. Put babies inside the womb that belongs to me .

Unacceptable.

My blood boils all over again. The vein in my forehead—the one that alerts me the beast is about to claw out of its cage—thumps.

I should've realized sooner. I couldn't allow Leighton to go after her dreams in New York. Not without me .

Ideas like shackling her to a bed and fucking the words "We can't do this" out of her come to mind. Have come to mind for a while. The things I put in my Malibu home could attest to that.

I would've done it in our Santa Barbara home. It would've been less complicated. I wouldn't have had to drug Leighton for that.

Except Rylan wouldn't have murdered her first.

My heart clenches at the notion.

Worrying about Leighton doesn't make me any less pissed, though. She was going to break things off with me.

Unacceptable.

My need to protect her and punish her mix in my head. The toxic concoction bleeds into my pores, feeding the monster inside me. The madman whose love for Leighton is sick and twisted. I'm not Dr. Kingston when he takes over.

I'm Marcus. The man who's made of carnal desires. The creature who'd stick a needle in her throat and take her from everything and everyone to show her who she belongs to.

Letting him take over while I'm speeding through the highway is dangerous. I breathe. Focus on the road. On the task at hand.

I revisit the session I had with my therapist, Dr. Miranda Hatchett in my head, two weeks ago. This'll help tame the beast. Has to.

"You've clearly developed an attachment for this young woman." Dr. Hatchett lifted her gaze from her notebook to me. "Feelings, as well."

Her words and gestures were void of judgment. As always .

Her graying hair was pulled tight and her makeup flawless. Her body language suggested she was calm and attentive. Legs and arms uncrossed, features relaxed.

I'd been visiting her as a standard practice ever since I'd started seeing my own patients. During our sessions, I'd been upfront. Never hid a thing from her.

Other than Rylan's secrets, of course.

"Feelings. Ha." I crossed a knee over my thigh. Defensive. Waiting for her to attack my character. It never came. "I love her. Have loved her since she was seventeen."

I cocked an eyebrow, expecting judgment. Knowing she'd hate me as much as I hated my own damn self.

Tenderness flashed in Dr. Hatchett's green eyes. Compassion appeared behind her horn-rimmed glasses. No judgment. No loathing.

None.

"Marcus." She placed her notebook on the modern brass end table beside her. "Let's not confuse obsession and attachment with love."

"I'm not confused." I flexed my fingers on the arms of the leather chair. "What makes you say I don't love her? That I haven't loved her for years?"

Before she was legal. One year, to be exact.

"Up until this moment, you haven't considered doing something more than…observing her. Even when her age no longer presented an issue." She adjusted her glasses on her nose, preparing for an uncomfortable truth. "You made it seem as though that's all you've ever wanted. To watch her. Today, though, there's been progress. You mentioned talking to your daughter and the girl later. That's serious. Because of the impending move to New York. Hence my conclusion that this is an obsession. You can't imagine doing what's right by her since it means letting her go."

I couldn't tell her why I'd kept this to myself this entire time. Couldn't tell her about the secret home or my escape plans in case shit hit the fan. And I certainly couldn't divulge that my daughter had a tendency to make the only two women I ever dated—other than her mother—disappear.

I didn't want that for Leighton.

I'd loved her for years. I'd protected her, even from myself.

But I couldn't.

Swapping her pills that morning, planning on locking her up so she wouldn't move to the other side of the country, willing to face my murderous daughter…

This wasn't a phase. Wasn't just an obsession.

It was love.

"All right. I haven't loved her before," I lied. "I do now. I'm interested in a future with her. Until death do us part."

Not death by Rylan, obviously. I'd talk to her. We'd figure this out. We'd have to find a middle ground that'd work for the three of us. We would.

My fake, easy smile reflected on Miranda's face.

"If you say so." She nodded. "Let's discuss how to approach the subject with both women."

Afterwards, Miranda spent the rest of our hour encouraging me to confess my love and almost five-year celibacy to Rylan. It would be before I went to Leighton. Once my daughter gave me the green light—which I highly doubted—I was supposed to have a sit down with Leighton. Reassure her there was no need to hide and sneak around.

I'd have loved her and cherished her out in the open. Held her hand out in public and whisked her to getaways in the Malibu home but not as a captive or someone who needed protecting. As my partner. My wife.

She'd have found a new job here on the West Coast. I could've moved my clinic to the east.

Then I'd pound one baby after another into her. She'd never had to worry about anything ever again.

She'd have had me.

It seemed so simple in Dr. Hatchett's clinic.

It planted hopes in my fragile mind.

It made me come onto Leigh hard at the pool today. We were going to be together. My teeth were burning to tear her little white bikini right off her sinful curves.

What a fucking impatient idiot I'd been.

As I head south, I curse myself. What an oversight on my part to make a move on Leighton before running it past Rylan first.

"Nmnmnmn," Leighton mumbles. A glance at her closed eyes tells me she hasn't woken up.

Looking at her knocked out and so precious in my car, I am more resolute than ever.

She deserves better. She deserves to live , period.

"Good girl." I brush a lock that escaped her messy bun, tucking it behind her ear.

Rylan's damned iced tea could've taken her away from me .

I growl. Rylan isn't in love with me. But I'm her only living parent, and she plans to keep me hers, no matter the cost.

A bit of information I'd have to keep from Leighton for a little while longer. Until she admits her love for me. Otherwise, her confession would be tainted.

Leighton has to realize she loves me for me.

That's what this trip is about, other than protecting her.

With Leighton, I'm in it for a bigger reward. The motherfucking jackpot.

I want to be her everything . This process needs to be handled carefully. I am nothing but meticulous.

Leighton would be my woman. My doll.

She'd cave in. For me. More than that. She'd crave me.

A rest stop appears ahead of us. Since I'm confident I've put enough distance between us and Rylan, I pull up behind where no one can see what I'm doing.

It's more than my Malibu home that I stocked up as I prepared for this moment.

It's the trunk of my SUV as well.

I walk over there, opening the large duffel I packed last week. I fish out the burner phone with the number only Dr. Hatchett has. Put it in my pocket.

Mine's not on me anymore. I crushed it under my shoe after sedating Leighton and texting Britta, my secretary. Someone had to cancel my sessions for the coming month. I told Britta to refer them to Dr. Hatchett.

In one of our sessions, I'd mentioned to the doctor that one day, I might disappear willingly or forcibly. I'm sure she wouldn't mind .

It doesn't make a difference either way. My patients will have to deal. I won't be traceable. Not through my phone, nor through my car. Last week, I visited an auto shop fifty miles from home and had them disconnect the GPS tracking device from my SUV.

Rylan majored in computer science. She's attended hacking competitions for years, ignoring my demands to fucking quit it. She has her reasons. She hasn't been shy about them, either. My daughter has been hacking my laptop and cellphone whenever she gets the chance. Flaunted the evidence in my face as if it was something to be proud of.

I let her believe it is. Patted her on her back, encouraging her while knowing full well she was issuing a threat.

There wouldn't be any secrets between her and me. That's what her wide smile kept reminding me.

Cash, however, she couldn't trace. Ever since the house was finished three years ago, I've been withdrawing small amounts from my bank account every week. Over time, they've filled up the safe I keep there.

Again…I've done so just in case. And it pays off now that the moment to take Leighton has come.

Can't say I regret it. I have her here. She's finally safe.

And mine.

After taking a couple of other things I need from the duffel, I head over to her. I open the door to Leighton's seat. She's gorgeous. Lying limbless in my car.

My beautiful girl doesn't respond when I strap the breathable ball gag around her head. She's relaxed and limp as I manhandle her. I place her hands in her lap, binding them with zip ties.

There's another forty-minute drive ahead of us. She shouldn't wake up, but I'm not risking it. I should close the door, return to my seat and drive to safety.

Impossible. Tearing myself from Leighton is impossible. I check my watch, allowing myself three minutes to admire her.

Tick tock. Tick tock.

A drop of spit trickles out of the corner of her mouth.

Fuck .

We're alone. A thorough look around us reaffirms we are.

Even if we weren't, I don't know if I could control my urge. I grab Leighton's jaw, leaning into her. Drawing her face to me, I lick her chin. Lick her fucking clean.

There'll be more. I can take care of that once we get home.

Once she learns she's mine.

"That's better." I kiss her temple, readjusting her in her seat. "All cleaned up, little doll."

Back behind the wheel in the closed car, I smell her arousal. A hint from before. Of how I made her feel at the pool less than an hour ago.

"I've been neglecting you, haven't I? Have been too riled up when you said we couldn't be together, that I haven't taken care of you." I turn to her, yanking the skirt of her dress up her thighs. "I'm so sorry, beautiful."

My erection is about to tear a hole in my jeans. That's how hard I am for her. Having Leighton still as I shove her bikini bottoms to the side beats every dream I've ever had of her. I part her pussy lips, dragging a finger along her wet slit.

"Here, let me make it better." I sink a finger into her core, pushing in.

Soaking myself with her.

She's tight and hot. Mine.

With that knowledge, I peel out of the rest stop and back to the road.

Leighton is in her drug-induced sleep while I tease her pussy on the drive to our new, temporary home. Getting wetter the more attention I give her.

She hasn't been that good, though. She doesn't get to come.

And in any case, I'm dying to taste her. I pull out my finger, suck on it, and groan as her juices coat my tongue.

"You know why I've always insisted on doing your laundry? So I can sniff your panties. Lick them." I smooth her dress over her thighs. "Tasting you right from the source, though? That's something else, Leigh. Not like I'm any less mad at you for what you said at the garage. No, no, no. You'll be punished for that. Only once I've calmed down will I love you sweetly. Until then, you'll have the beast."

She doesn't make a sound. I fill the silence in my head, hearing her sweet voice saying, Thank you, Marcus .

The corners of my mouth curve in a sinister smile.

She'll have a lot more to thank me for.

Over.

And over.

And over again.

"Hmph." The most seductive whimper comes from my right.

Leighton's stirring from her sleep.

Perfect timing. We've ended the drive through the sandy isolated road and are parked in front of our new home.

My gaze darts to the house I've built for her. That's owned by a shell company I've built oversees. I designed this one-story glass house to be powered by solar energy that I paid for in cash. No paper trail and no electricity bill mean no way for Rylan to trace us here.

The interior décor is warm. I chose the furniture keeping Leighton in mind. The rugs are in earthy tones; the tan couches soft and cozy. The living area and kitchen are connected. The bedroom, study-slash-clinic, and bathroom are hidden behind walls and doors. That's so she can't see me while she's locked inside. I, on the other hand, am able to see her through the glass walls from the outside.

Our fortress.

Our. Home.

Here, I'm finally able to lose my inhibitions. Don't have to be the devoted father I've always been. The respected, renowned psychiatrist.

I don't have to hide the side of me that's been clawing at my sanity when provoked.

"Marcus!" Leighton's garbled cry jolts me from my musings .

There's anger and confusion in her voice. Apparently, she's not happy about being here. She might still want to end this thing between us.

The hell she will.

The kind person she's known for years would've explained this to her. Apologized. Expressed remorse for drugging her.

Until she falls for me, I don't think I can be him.

I harden my expression. Turn to her. "Leighton."

Her eyes bulge, exposing too much of the white in it. Much like her pale face. My sweet girl. The nausea of the drugs must've kicked in.

She screams something that sounds like, "Let me go," her body rocking in her seat. As if that'd help.

"No." I shake my head. "You'll never be free of me."

For a second, she freezes. Such a beautiful doll, she is. Her hair pulled up in a bun, her lips round because I made them so using the gag.

Then her scream pierces my ears inside the closed car. She thrashes against the seat belt. When her eyes wander to her wrists, she rubs her palms together furiously, attempting to break free.

I let her have her tantrum for three…two…one…

"Stop it." With one hand, I grab her shoulder. Use the other to grip her chin.

Doesn't help.

So I start hypnotizing the way I've been craving for years.

"You're going to take a deep breath, Leighton. "

Her body strains, desperate to push me off her. Her blue eyes plead with me. She presses her lips to the gag, working to expel it by spitting and screaming.

"Deep. Breath." I lower my face to hers. "Or this wouldn't end well for you."

"Why?" she manages to ask behind the gag, breathing quickly.

More spit drips down her chin.

I'll lick it later.

"You're not paying attention. Deep. Breath." I level my voice. An example would make it easier for her to understand, so I inhale slowly, expanding my chest. "Do it. You'll feel better."

Leighton sucks in a shuddering breath. Then another. Some of the panic leaves her gaze. We're getting somewhere.

"That's it. Good girl."

My praise flicks on a switch in Leighton. Her muscles aren't as strained beneath my fingers.

She's incredibly receptive. More receptive than any of my patients.

Doesn't mean I won't use a trance trigger on her. For those times she'll refuse to follow my orders.

"Feel that air going in. Feel how it's soothing you." Despite tightening my grip on her, she relaxes. "Notice how good it is. How nice it feels to be held by me."

Her head lulls to the side, dropping on the headrest.

"Now, feel your eyes."

Though my voice may sound tender, I'm anything but. I talk like that because this is what'll push her into a trance since I don't have a trigger word for her yet. It's the only tool in my arsenal to manipulate her.

"They're heavy, aren't they?"

"Yes," she murmurs behind the gag, her eyelids droopy.

"You're about to fall asleep, little doll." The kinder suggestion works better than a command, and her eyes flutter shut altogether. "A conscious sleep. You'll feel everything. Experience everything. But you won't be able to move."

"M-hmm."

There's one last thing I have to tell her before I carry her inside.

Her trigger word, now that her mind is susceptible to a stronger suggestion.

"Remember this. When I say moon , you fall asleep. When I snap my fingers, you wake up. Now, let's get you home."

There'll be time to fuck around with Leighton's head.

Later, I'll mess it up. Later, I'll fix the mess. Later, I will be the one to create a safe space for her up there. Me.

Later.