19. CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

Damien

“We’ll be having dinner at seven p.m. sharp,” I tell our little captive. “You’ll show up to eat with us.”

Quinlan and I are in the doorway of her bedroom. Me in the hall, her inside it.

I could barge in. Rip her demure blouse and slacks off her body. Taste her pussy again. I miss her taste, the feel of her pussy on my tongue. Have needed it more than anything since I licked every drop of her orgasm.

Nothing stops me from doing just that.

Nothing, other than my sick and twisted mind.

She would love it if I forced myself on her. Beg like she couldn’t in that restroom with Liam’s hand on her mouth.

I know how to touch her. Know what to do to turn her on.

I. Know. Her.

She knows I do, too.

But she’ll hate me a second later. Might even call me a rapist. I won’t make it easy for her to hate me. I’d much rather leave her conflicted. Play with her for my benefit.

This part of the game isn’t about Rex anymore. Watching her crumble is all about my sick desires. She’s so hot when she’s flustered.

“Before that”—I cross my arms over my chest—“you’ll come down to have lunch. The fridge is packed with food and pre-made meals. Healthy stuff. Anything you can dream of.”

“Not fucking happening,” she snarls, her eyes flaring. “I’m never leaving this room.”

Her fingers curl around the side of the door. She’d have slammed it in my face if I’d let her.

My hand flattens on the door. My foot is jammed against it. “You will show up.”

It sounds absurd to insist on food. To engage in this conversation that sounds like we’re reenacting a scene from The Beauty and the Beast . I would laugh at how ridiculous it is. Only I don’t. I insist on it for Rome. Nothing’s funny about his trauma.

“Never leaving.” She pushes. I don’t budge.

“You’ll have to use the bathroom at some point. Which you don’t have in there.” I raise a challenging eyebrow. “And you will eat, darling. That’s not up for negotiation.”

“Don’t you dare call me darling again.” If Quinlan would’ve realized what her anger’s doing to me, I doubt she would’ve unleashed the way she does. “I’m nothing to you.”

“Wrong.” When my finger twirls around a lock of hair that’s escaped from her ponytail, Quinlan goes red in the face. Her eyes widen and her lips pinch. “You’re my captive.”

Silence. It’ll take her a while before she’s used to her new situation. By the time she does, she’ll stop resenting it.

She will.

“Darling,” I taunt her. Because I’m a sick fuck. Because she’s less mad than I would’ve liked. “Did you hear what I said?”

She hasn’t tried to bite my fingers off yet. Until then…

“Shut up.” Quinlan’s lungs expand with the sharp breath she sucks in. “I’ll go out to use the bathroom. Other than that, nothing. I’ll starve myself to death, and there’s nothing you can do about it.”

“Then who will provide for your parents if you die?” I’m being a prick. I’ve taken this too far. But the hatred that’s been simmering beneath my skin for Rex has returned with a vengeance after hearing him. Barely containable. Besides, Rome would lose his shit if she won’t eat. Right? “Rex? No, darling . He won’t be able to afford their health care. The doctors. They’ll lose their house eventually. Have you considered that?”

As soon as furious tears pinprick the corner of Quinlan’s eyes, I kick myself inwardly. I’ve never intended to aim my bitterness at her. Ever.

In the office, it was different. We had to convince her she had no other choice. That she had to come to us on her own terms.

We would’ve dragged her here had she said no. We would’ve.

We didn’t have to.

We scared her. Cornered her. Threatened her. She still gave as good as she got.

This, what I’m doing, is awful. Kicking her while she’s down is a bastard move. She doesn’t deserve it.

You’re no better than him , one voice whispers. Fix this. Fix her.

“Quinlan.” My regret reflects in a softer tone. My eyebrows knit, my fingers sliding to her neck. To her thrumming pulse. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that. Your parents are safe. I promise you nothing will happen to them.”

“Leave me alone.” Quinlan blinks furiously. Her gray eyes are an impending storm. “I’m not going to kill myself. I’ll do my job. Stay here. It’s everything you wanted, isn’t it?”

“Quinlan.” At the sound of her name, her pulse races faster beneath my fingertips.

But she’s not blinking anymore. “Go away.”

The moment I hesitate is the moment she tears herself away from me. My hand remains in the air while Quinlan steps back into her room.

I’m dying to follow her inside. To tell her all of this is for her.

The king-sized four-poster bed is meant to make her feel like a princess. That the Egyptian gray sheets were chosen specifically to match the unique color of her eyes.

Every part of me longs to tell her we hand-picked the light gray rug for its softness. That the dark wood dresser and the stocked bookshelves on the wall are there to give her a homey feeling.

That we didn’t compromise on her workstation. Got her a top-of-the-line electronic desk and agronomic chair so her neck and back would never ache again.

And the walk-in closet. I want to be there when she sees the clothes upon clothes filling up the racks, the shelves, the drawers. We selected each item for her. Us, not a stylist or even the shop assistants.

Us.

We never discussed why we put so much… love …into her room. We just did.

And it’s clear I can’t discuss it with her, either.

Wish I could.

Later.

There’ll be time. When I’m less furious and turned on by her rejection.

When she realizes this is it. The end of the road for her. Which she will.

After all, we have all the time in the world.

“Everything we wanted, yes,” I correct. “And yet, I’d like to apolo—”

This time, when she shoves the door, I let her. Back up and watch with a satisfied smirk. She slams it in my face with so much fire that I forget about the sad look in her eyes.

She’s back. The heavy object she drags on the floor of her bedroom just goes to prove how alive she is.

Despite the tears, Quinlan’s definitely not down.

We could fight again later.

Plus, how adorable is it that she believes she can barricade herself inside. That she can keep us out.

Very.

My phone vibrates in my pocket when I think of all the ways I can subdue this feral creature. Despite the relentless need to stay right outside her room, I go over to mine and close the door to keep the call private.

Our doors and walls block out most of the noise. They aren’t soundproof.

“Missed me already, sweetheart?” Amused.

That’s what I sound like, at least. For the benefit of my friends, mainly. They need things to be okay with Quinlan. For everything to run smoothly.

“Is she there?” Liam asks first.

She should be. I’m definitely not. Being far away from her. Giving her space to acclimate. An allusion that she’s safe, even though I can walk in at any moment.

She deserves that.

I wish I didn’t care about what she deserves.

That just sounds crazy. So I keep it that to myself.

“What about food?” Rome’s second. “You gave her something to eat?”

We don’t have cameras here, for obvious reasons. Cameras can be hacked. Anyone—the police, included—could gain access to our apartment. To the plans we discuss late at night. The plotting that could get us locked up.

“She’s in her room. I’m in mine.” I lower myself to the edge of my king-size bed. Head in my palm, I prepare for what’s to come from Rome after I tell him, “No… She’s not hungry.”

“Rome, she probably had breakfast at home.” I hear Liam talking in his low, comforting voice.

I’m sure he’s there, placing a hand on Rome’s shoulder. He’s good at that, at handling Rome’s anxiety.

I bury my trauma beneath layers and layers of confidence. Of laughter. My friends heard my stories. Saw the scars. The agony on my face while I’d been cut, slapped and kicked around—the screams I shouted while my foster siblings were tortured—they’re mine. I handle it by myself.

Liam and Rome always get the best version of me.

And while I’ll never be as attentive as Liam, I’m here for them. I offer a smile. An inappropriate joke. Just until the storm clouds pass.

“True. What is it, like”—I check out at the clock on the phone—“eleven? Is it really the right time for beef ragu?”

“There’s the lasagna she talked about in the fridge. I made cream cheese sandwiches,” Rome grits out. Come on, Liam. Do something . “Egg salad. Chicken salad. She likes those. We have pictures of her eating that. Did you tell her about everything, Damien? Did you show her to the fridge? The pantry?”

My dark blue sheets crumple in my death grip. My eyes close so I don’t see the beige wool rug under my feet or the bookshelves decorating my walls. I don’t deserve this luxury when he’s in so much pain.

Black. That’s what I see. The color of my frustration at my failure.

“She wasn’t exactly asking for a grand tour, Rome.” A wry laugh escapes. I want to save my friend and lack the words to do it. Fuck this. “I tried talking to her on the drive over and got nothing. When the elevator doors opened”—warmth seeps in at the memory, one I hope to transfer to Rome—“she asked, ‘ Where’s my prison cell, asshole? ’”

That was cute of her.

A laugh from Rome. Finally.

“Is that another joke?” he asks, his voice lighter. As much as Rome’s voice can lighten up.

“No.” I sit up straight, feeling a bit lighter myself. “Then she slammed the door to her room in my face.”

“You said something. Went too far,” Liam deadpans. He doesn’t chide me. Just states a fact.

“I did.” No use denying it. “Enough about me. I have it covered. What about you, L? What about Aria?”

Flick. Snap. Flick.

“Liam?” I repeat. “You didn’t go. Don’t you want to see her being miserable? We got her fired. She has nothing but debts and her miserable apartment. What’s going on?”

“What’s going on is fuck her,” he snaps. It’s harsher than the click of his Zippo when he shuts it. “I’ll watch her when it’s time .” Our code words for killing her. “Our private investigators won’t let her get away. That’s enough for me.”

“You’re passing on her humiliation. We have reports that she’s crying. You’ll love that, won’t he, Rome?”

Flick. Snap. Flick. Snap.

The sound is soft over the phone. Dulled. Silenced, almost. Like Liam was when Aria made it her mission to ruin his life.

I could go over there and slice her throat open. I’d do it. Except this isn’t my revenge to take.

“Maybe we should do this later.” The roles have reversed. Rome’s the one to be in charge of comforting Liam. “Liam, we can take the day off. Reschedule the meeting we have in thirty. Fuck them.”

“No.” Liam clears his throat. Pulls it together. “No. They’re expecting us. Any sign of weakness, and DriverGone will pull out of the deal. They’ll take the other offer.”

He’s not wrong. We’ve been negotiating the terms of our acquisition for months. The small startup company is working on a chip that’s going to change the car world. A couple of guys in their twenties, and they’re already huge.

We know that. They don’t. They have no idea how big they can get with the right funding. No one does, other than Liam and his team and maybe our competitors.

We have the funds to turn their dreams into reality. But others have been snooping.

We have to be there for the meeting.

I would’ve gone, if not for the sweet captive we have locked up here.

The airtight contract I wrote will take my place in the meeting. Rome, Liam, Quinlan and I stand to be even more filthy rich than we have before.

Until the end of time.

We don’t need more money. We want it. The power. The status. No one will ever have control over us ever again.

“I’m fine. Fucking perfect,” Liam insists, not as convincing as he would’ve liked. The way the perfect breaks at the end is worrisome. “You want the why, Dame? This is why. Stalking another woman, unless it’s for business purposes, is wrong.”

My mouth opens. Closes. Opens. Snaps shut. Surprising me isn’t easy. It’s even harder when it comes from one of my two best friends.

“That’s why you instructed the investigators to forward her photos to us?” Rome asks.

“Yes. Stalking a person is intimate. It would’ve felt like cheating. Sitting out there, watching her, what, in her underwear? No.”

So we’re bringing it up again. Our obsession.

That’s all there is to it.

“Next thing you know”—my eyes are fixed on the door, on where Quinlan is—“you’ll be asking her for permission to stalk any woman, period. You want her to run BLF with us, L?”

“Hilarious.” Liam doesn’t laugh. “And no, I wouldn’t mind that. She’d be better than any one of us. Goodbye, Dame.”

“For crying out loud, get her to eat.” Rome’s demand isn’t as panicked as before.

Thank fuck for small miracles.

“Yes, Mother.”

By the evening, Quinlan will have eaten. She will.

It’s been hours.

Hours since Quinlan’s gotten into her room. Something crashed against the wall at one point, and I asked her if she was all right. All I got was a growl.

That actually made me laugh. For all of a second.

She still refused to eat.

I tried to distract myself. Showered. Changed into a pair of jeans and a T-shirt. Made myself a sandwich with the chicken salad Rome talked about and ate it with the sound of Quinlan’s footsteps as background noise.

It was delicious, by the way. The food and hearing her raging in her room.

She stopped fury-pacing about an hour ago. I didn’t stop going up there, doing everything to convince her to eat.

Nothing got her out of her room.

Not me threatening her. Not me tempting her with the hot food at her door. I ordered veggie sushi rolls from her favorite place, took a picture and uploaded it to the television we have in her room.

That landed me another growl and another something breaking. Glass. Had to be the television.

Fuck the television. We can get her a million more of those. I cared about Rome and her and how I was failing them.

The feeling hasn’t left. It’s very much there as I’m leaning against the wall in the hallway, watching the door to her bedroom.

Door number two is an option. I could slip into her bedroom through the secret bookshelf door. Hold Quinlan’s mouth open, force-feed her, then clamp her nose and mouth shut until she swallowed.

That’s hot. My cock strains in my jeans just thinking about it. The pleasure of the act would give me the power over her, her submission.

Violence pummels through me.

How I wish.

How I fucking wish.

Rome, though. He’ll hate it. Force-feeding triggers him as much as food deprivation does. He loathes the idea of food being used to torture people.

He’s right.

So, here I am. Waiting for her.

My time will be up soon. Rome will be home in a couple of hours.

Steps. Feet padding softly on the carpet. Padding instead of stomping. Fuck, it’s adorable. I push from the wall to stand in front of her door.

I flatten my hand on it. I feel her in there.

Christ, this is everything. I want to spank her for withholding herself from me for so long. Need to bend her over and belt her gorgeous round ass. Pelt her worse than Rome had with his hand.

Her gentle padding, out of everything, spreads the sick urges in me to every part of my body. Behind my eyes. Through my blood.

My muscles flex. Breaths laden.

Quinlan keeps padding inside. Stops.

Then—

Dragging sound. Slow scraping. Granted, since every piece of furniture we bought her is expensive. Heavy.

Silence ensues right before the door opens.

She gasps when she realizes I’m there, my arms crossed over my chest. The flush burning through her cheeks makes my cock thicken.

“You.” Her scowl, my God.

“Yes, me, darling.” I uncross my arms, close my hand on the side of her neck. “Were you expecting anyone else?”

“No.” The red on her cheeks is brighter.

She’s alive. Fully present. The side of me that gets off pain and fear and all the things I’ve had to learn to hide. For years, I’ve been starving to have my hands on Quinlan. Do the worst and best to her.

She’ll take me. She’ll accept me.

She will.

“Truth is, I was expecting you.” Quinlan’s pulse rages. For me.

I’m goddamn throbbing for her.

“As in wanting me to be here, darling?”

“You wish.” Brave eyes stare back at me. “Expecting you as in expecting you to take a hint. I. Don’t. Want. You. Don’t want your food, either. Am I being clear, or are you too delusional to get what I’m saying?”

“You’re beautiful when you lie.”

“Well, you’re beautiful when you’re not being an asshole.” She gasps at her confession.

A heartbeat passes. That’s it.

I haul Quinlan to me, slamming her against the wall in the hallway. My cock drills into her belly, and fuck , that’s good.

“What’d you say?” I roll my hips.

No answer. Only a whimper. A tortured one.

Her knees lock. Eyes pained.

There’s desire in them, but it’s overpowered by…

“You need to use the bathroom.” I’m a fucker. She’s aware of that.

She isn’t surprised then, when I grind myself into her again. Pressing myself to her lower belly. She just clamps her teeth on her bottom lip.

“Will you eat if I let you go?” I turn her head to the side, skimming my lips over her jaw. Tracing her soft skin until I reach her ear. “Will you admit how desperate you are for my cock?”

Her body is a mess. Shivering limbs and clenching thighs. And all of it is for me.

“Never.” The word is hardly a whisper.

She’s so tormented. So perfect.

“You will.” A plan forms in my head. It’s easy enough, after years of plotting, to come up with something on the fly. I pull back, grab her hand. “Come on.”

A relieved sigh escapes her. I’m sure she didn’t mean for it to happen. She has to resent me for this, for forcing gratitude out of her.

Another reason for me to relish it.

We head through the hall of the second floor to the guest bathroom. Rome, Liam, and I have private ones in our bedrooms. Quinlan doesn’t. With good reason.

At the entrance to the expansive bathroom, I switch the lights down low. Soft amber glow illuminates the marble floors. The freestanding white tub.

The toilet.

A tremor runs through Quinlan.

“Thanks, bye.” She yanks her hand from mine, flicking it in my direction. Shooing me away.

She won’t slam the door in my face this time. I’m faster than her. Hotter.

My fingers lock around her tender wrist, whipping her back until she’s flush against me. “You’ll eat later.”

“Fine. Leave.”

“I don’t think so.” I level her with a gaze. “You owe me something other than eating.”

“You…” Her lips pinch. Her face twists in agony. “I’ll tell you whatever after I go. Okay?”

“I wasn’t born yesterday, darling. Now.”

My free hand curls around her jaw, dragging her face to mine. Her agony is sweet, and I can’t help it. Can’t resist kissing her. I don’t hold back, licking a trail down the corner of her mouth and along her cheek.

“You’ll tell me your pussy has been desperate for me over the last few days.” I return my eyes to hers, both of us vibrating with need. “That you’re dying for me to take your virgin cunt. Me, or my friends. Or all of us together. Since we are sharing you.”

“Who gave you the right?” she groans, her frustration with herself out there for me to see. To taste.

“Know this, Quinlan. The more you lie to me, and yourself.” I swallow her snarl with another kiss. “The harder I get.”

“You’re sick.” Her fight against me is basically nonexistent. It hurts her to admit it. “Let me go or I’ll pee on the floor to spite you.”

“Nice try.” Someone else might’ve found her threat repulsive. Not me. Nothing about her could ever disgust me. “You can pee here, fine by me. I’ll put you on your hands and knees after that. Push your face until you lick the puddle dry.” I should shut up. Enjoy her embarrassment. But no. Of course I don’t. “I bet you’re used to it. Bet Rex did worse.”

The air whooshes next to my cheek before she slaps me. It doesn’t hurt.

It surprises me.

“What makes you think you know my brother?” She shifts from one foot to another. “What do you want with him? And me?”

“Half-brother.” I hate myself. Hate the images I planted in my own damn head. He didn’t touch her. Didn’t abuse her.

I would’ve seen the bruises. Someone would’ve.

“Tell me what he did.” Quinlan aims for anger. She’s on the verge of tears instead. Her need to relieve herself grows stronger by the second. “Tell me already.”

“I remember I asked you to repeat a certain sentence first.”

And no, I’ll never tell you about Rex. How useless I’d been when he hurt my foster-siblings. How he damaged me for good.

A second slap jolts me awake.

Same cheek.

I growl.

“So that’s how you want it to be?” I push her into the bathroom. Pin her up against the wall by holding her by the throat. “Want me to hurt you? Want me to play the bad guy?”

“You already are.”

With my free hand, I undo the button of her slacks. Yank them and her panties down her legs.

My palm covers her mouth. “Spit on my fingers.”

Her nostrils flare, her expression horrified. “Fuck no.”

“This isn’t wise of you, darling.” I push two fingers past her lips. Her resistance doesn’t bother me. Quinlan is ours. I’ll do with her as I fucking please. “You just admitted I’m the bad guy.”

I draw my fingers back, add a third and shove them back in. She gags, coughs.

“You poked the bear, darling. This is all on you.”

Quinlan bites me. Gags on me. Her choking and fight speak right to my cock.

“Maybe poking the bear is your idea of foreplay.” Spit stretches between her mouth and my fingers when I remove them. “Maybe you’ve been fantasizing about being a dirty little girl, to have someone spank you. Touch you everywhere.”

I find her swollen clit, pressing my wet fingers to it. Quinlan whimpers, wiggling in my hold.

There’s nowhere to run, and it infuriates her, how much she enjoys this. She gets off when I’m being an asshole, and it humiliates her. When she needs to go, no less.

“It made you come so hard, didn’t it? Fantasizing about a man being rough with you.” I rub her in slow circles. “Yes, it did. You’re such a filthy one. I can tell.”

“Please, stop.” But her hand is on my neck, going higher. Tugging at my short hair. Pulling me to her mouth. “Please.”

“Say it.” The day has been a long one. My desires have gotten more depraved the longer she’s kept me waiting. “Say you want my cock.”

“Damien.”

My hand slides lower. Her inner thighs are wet. I gather Quinlan’s arousal before I begin stroking her clit again.

“I-I have to pee.” Her plea is a prayer. A desperate one. “Fuck, okay. I want your cock. I want your thick, fat cock inside me. Tear me in fucking half, okay? Please, just let me pee.”

“That’s a good girl.” I pinch her clit, smiling at her scream. “We’re finally getting somewhere.”