9. Chapter Nine Abby

Chapter Nine: Abby

I was sure I was going to be punished. I just had no idea how yet.

After we bought the plant, I dropped Erika off and drove my old clunker back to Nathan's ritzy neighborhood. It would be totally out of place, but all I cared about was getting back to him–apologizing, offering him what I could as a show of honesty.

I wanted to be with him.

That much had become clear during my coffee with Erika…that he loved me, and that I really was starting to love him. When she'd asked if he was the one, I'd almost instantly said yes, despite the fact that we barely knew each other.

I was smitten.

I needed him to forgive me.

I didn't bother flipping on the lights as I came inside, the sunset pouring in through the sliding glass door to the patio more than enough to guide the way. I kicked off my shoes, put the peace lily down on the counter, then I called Nathan's name–as if we were just lovers, like he wasn't my kidnapper.

"Nathan!" I shouted. "Are you back?"

No answer.

I had just started to believe he really wasn't here when I heard the most subtle shift in the shadows…and then his voice rumbled out, and my eyes adjusted to find his lean, muscled form sitting on a chair by the stairs.

My heart rate tripled in speed.

He still scared me.

"Abby."

"I was just…" I trailed off, my voice uneven. "...um…"

In an instant, he was in front of me, his grip ironclad around my wrist. All six feet of lean muscle and barely restrained violence, Nathan could've just killed me right then and there.

But he didn't. That wasn't what he wanted.

Instead, he pulled me along without a word, his eyes dark pools I couldn't read. He moved toward the garage door and swung it wide open, then we descended, stark fluorescent lights flickering on.

"Are you going to punish me?" The words slipped out.

Nathan didn't answer as he propelled me forward. The concrete floor was cold under my bare feet, and the echo of our steps was a grim drumbeat to where this was headed. For a fleeting second, I entertained the thought that he might, in fact, actually kill me. The idea wasn't entirely far-fetched. Punishment was one thing, it was almost exciting; death was another realm entirely.

"Wait, Nathan, I just—I need to talk to you," I pleaded, trying to reason with him.

"Quiet." The single word was a command, brooking no argument, and it snapped my mouth shut.

His hold didn't loosen. I reminded myself that beneath the tough exterior was a mind that had dissected philosophy at Stanford. There had to be a sliver of reason there, a hope I clung to like a lifeline. Nathan had layers, and if I could peel them back, maybe we'd both survive.

We rounded the side of his car to the other side, where a sleek black Mercedes waited, gleaming in the bright white lights. He stopped me beside it as if I should know what the hell this was–and I looked up at him, hesitant.

"What's this?" I asked, my voice steadier than I felt.

Nathan fished out a set of keys from his pocket and tossed them at me. I caught them reflexively, the cool metal biting into my palm.

"Since you can't seem to stay put," he began, the edge in his voice cutting through the night air, "you might as well look the part when you disobey me."

I frowned, confused but catching on. "You've been tracking me?"

"Of course, I have." His gaze was unyielding as it bore into me. "Every move you make, Abby, I'll know about it. You want to play house? Then let's play it properly."

I blinked, unable to process what he was saying.

"Is this...are you giving me a car?" I stammered, the weight of the keys in my hand suddenly feeling like a shackle rather than a luxury.

Nathan sneered, a cruel twist to his lips that didn't reach his predatory eyes. "Yeah, I'm giving you a car, Abby."

I squared my shoulders, trying to find courage I wasn't sure I had. "Look, I get it. We're in a weird situation here, but I don't need gifts, especially not like this."

He stepped closer, and the air between us crackled. "You don't understand," he said, his voice low and menacing. "You're going to do as you're told, and you're going to drive the damn car."

"Listen, Nathan," I began, my voice steadier than I felt. "I don't want the car, I have one outside. Can we just talk—"

Before I could finish, his hand shot out, closing around my throat with an iron grip. My back slammed against the cool metal of the car, his body pinning me in place. His face was inches from mine, eyes black and unreadable as he snarled through gritted teeth.

"This isn't about what you want." His grip tightened, and I gasped for air, clawing at his hand. "You're missing the bigger picture, Abby. If you don't play your part, if you don't drive this damn car like you're my wife, then it's not me you need to worry about—it's my father."

He released his hold just enough for me to draw a ragged breath. "Your dad?" I rasped out, trying to process his words through the haze of fear.

"Exactly." Nathan pushed away from me, his voice laced with venom. "Think about it. You riding around in some beat-up clunker? That's not how the wife of Nathan Zhou should be seen. You're no commoner now, Abby. You're with me, and that comes with certain...expectations."

I rubbed my sore throat, watching him warily.

"Am I clear?" he asked, his tone leaving no room for argument.

"Crystal," I whispered, the taste of fear sharp on my tongue. "But…does that mean I'm free to go wherever I want?" The question slipped from my lips before I could stop it, a mix of hope and doubt churning in my stomach.

"Sure," Nathan chuckled dryly, the sound devoid of any real amusement. "But don't think for a second that means you're off my radar." His dark eyes gleamed with a warning. "I'll always know what you're up to, Abby."

He loosened his grip entirely, stepping back, and I stumbled slightly, my hands flying to my neck as I coughed and tried to regain my composure. The tender skin felt raw from his iron hold.

Tears welled in my eyes, not from the pain but just from how messed up this all was, from how much I didn't want him to be angry with me, from…fuck, from everything to do with Nathan.

"You said I'm going to be your wife. Why?" The word was barely audible, choked out between labored breaths. "Why do you still want to marry me?"

Nathan's expression shifted, his eyes momentarily losing their hard edge as he regarded me. There was something there, a flicker of something genuine that disappeared as quickly as it came. He leaned in, his face inches from mine, his breath ghosting over my cheek. "Because," he whispered, the word heavy with unspoken truths, "we both know this is bigger than us."

"What?"

"Remember that, Abby," he added softly, turning away and leaving me alone with the echo of promises and threats that bound us together.

The metallic taste of fear lingered on my tongue as I faced him, the man who had mastered the art of menace without saying a word. He stood there, a dark silhouette against the flickering lights of South Beach beyond the garage.

"No. That's not good enough. You tell me why." My voice came out steadier than I felt. "Why do we have to go through with this charade of a marriage? You have a choice–"

Nathan's laugh was devoid of any warmth, a sound that scraped along my already frayed nerves. "Choice?" he spat out bitterly. "You think I have a choice in any of this?"

I searched his face for a hint of softness, a hint of that affection I knew he felt for me. But all I found was the hardened mask of Fangs Zhou, the ruthless heir to a criminal empire.

"I still love you," I confessed, my voice nearly breaking under the weight of my own deception. It was true, despite the danger, despite everything, some treacherous part of me clung to what we once had.

His reaction was swift as he closed the distance between us. His hand shot out, grabbing my face with an unyielding grip.

"Never fucking lie to me," he snarled, eyes like voids pulling me in. "You've trapped me, Abby. You think I don't know that? So here's how this is going to play out." His thumb brushed against my bottom lip, a cruel reminder of the power he wielded. "You drive what I tell you to drive, you go where I allow you to go. You live in my house, play by my rules until I say we're done. And if you're going to stay here, if you insist on lying to me, I'll fill your mouth with my cock whenever you lie. On your knees, you lying bitch. You need to remember what you are."

The command hung heavy in the air, a decree that left no room for refusal. My knees buckled, not just from fear but from the weight of the situation I'd entangled us both in.

What I wanted to do was tell this man to take this car and shove it up his ass. But what I did instead was drop to my knees on the concrete floor of the garage and get to work.