CHAPTER 4

CHAPTER 4

Cynthia

"Why can’t you do anything right?!"

I stand still as Jonathon yells at me. Norman is sitting on the couch in his father’s office, smirking at me. There are two reports on the Alpha’s desk, along with one resignation from one of the lawyers. The reason for the resignation is Norman’s violent tendencies. Both reports state that Jonathon physically attacked me in front of Adam’s building.

But Norman’s father will always defend him to his last breath and instead, I was blamed for provoking his man-child of a son.

"I managed to convince them to negotiate," I try to speak only for Norman to drown out my voice.

"You mean I convinced them!"

I fall silent.

"See, Dad," Norman sprawls his arm over the back of the couch, "this stupid bitch is always taking credit for whatever I do."

The reports say different, but Jonathon glares at me. “You’re completely shameless, aren’t you?”

One can argue with a man who is willing to accept the truth, but Jonathon Moore is one of those men who can witness his youngest son kill a man and still call me the murderer.

"Get out, Norman," Jonathon suddenly says.

Norman looks taken aback. "What did I––"

"I need to talk to Cynthia alone."

Grumbling under his breath, Norman heads out of the office, leaving me alone with his father.

Once the door slams shut behind him, Jonathon gives me a cold look. "I gave you a responsibility."

"I tried, but every time I say anything, Norman begins beating me in public! How am I supposed to––"

"Well, if you stopped provoking him, he wouldn’t have to do that, would he?" Jonathon asks, icily. "Don’t blame my son for your shortcomings. Because of you, one of my top legal counsel resigned."

Because of me?

Or because of how degenerate his son behaves in public?

But I know no matter what I say or what anyone says, Jonathon will only hold me responsible. Sometimes I feel it’s because he wants me to crumble. Anger fills me, but I restrain myself. There is no way he is not aware of the abuse Norman puts me through. He’s growing increasingly violent by the day. The way he held me by my hair and slammed my face into the car’s wheel, right outside Adam’s office, still has me shaken.

Does he really think this pack will accept an Alpha who is openly hostile and violent toward a female of the pack, and one that the pack alpha is said to be sponsoring? He couldn’t be that much of a fool.

"Because of you, we’re on the verge of being pushed out of that acquisition deal." Jonathon looks furious.

I stare at the ground, knowing that at this moment acting subservient is the only thing that might get me out of a full-blown whipping. But this man has no control over my thought process, and I’m beyond incensed. How does he plan to acquire a company that is leaps and bounds ahead of his own, one that has no intention of changing leadership?

"You’re going to fix this, Cynthia." Jonathon slams his fist on his desk, and ironically, on the two reports that explicitly state that none of this was my fault. "I don’t care what you have to do. Seduce him, use your body if you have to, but you’re going to fix this acquisition deal!"

My head jerks up.

He wants me to seduce his oldest son? The same son who had me in his bed, howling as he fucked me seven ways from Sunday just a week ago?

I’m already reeling from that shock, and now this? Never has Jonathon ever told me to sleep with someone to benefit the business. In fact, he’s made sure I had minimal interaction with single males, even within the office.

"Are you…" I stare at him, horrified. "Are you pimping me out?"

The alpha gives me a cold stare. "I’m telling you to fix your mistake, no matter how far you have to go to do it. And the next time," he steps toward me, his tone threatening, "I have to read a report about you provoking Norman into assaulting you, you’ll be seeing the basement every night until you learn your place."

My body feels cold.

Is he serious?

"Get out of my sight!" he barks at me, and I stumble out. Blindly, I make my way to the bathroom before collapsing inside one of the stalls. My legs are trembling, fear a bitter taste on my tongue.

It’s like I am not a living being for these people.

Pimp me out.

Beat me.

Whip me until the skin on my back is barely distinguishable.

Sitting on the closed toilet seat, I pull my knees to my chest as the tears spill out of my eyes and I stare blankly at the door. How long? How long will this go on for?

Sometimes, during moments like these, I forget why I’m still trying to live. It’s been so many years now, and my life is still the same. I face the same humiliation, the same beatings, the harassment, and now they’ve decided to use my body to get what they want. Losing autonomy over my own body makes me nauseated.

I lower my head to my knees, feeling myself break.

Forcing myself to be brave, and telling myself I’ll survive all this is the only way I have of holding myself together. Last week, that man I met, Adrian, he had been wonderful. Charming, sweet, funny, and attentive. Adrian made me feel special. He made me feel important and cherished. He made me feel like my words mattered, like I mattered. But Adam Moore? Adam Moore is just as cold-hearted as his father and brother.

When I was small, perhaps a year into my arrival at the Moore family home, I had been taken to the basement. It was a weekly ritual that the five-year-old I was had been terrified of. Jonathon arrived and started whipping me, my hands chained to the ceiling. At some point, he left the room but forgot to close the door. That’s when I saw the boy, his oldest son, come downstairs. I remember begging him to help me, but he just stared at me and left.

He never came back.

It’s one of the few memories from my childhood that I’ve never forgotten. Aside from this one interaction, I don’t remember much about Adam. Most of the time, he just avoided me and his entire family. But he knew. He knew what I was put through as a child, and he never once intervened. He never once thought to help me.

And in my book, that makes him just as bad as the rest of his family.

And now, he went and tainted one of the most cherished memories I had. He tainted ’Adrian’ with himself, and I will never be able to forgive myself for sleeping with someone who left me to suffer. All of them are the same.

It sickens me that I gave that man the only part of myself that was mine.

It hurts me.

Unknowingly, the Moore family took it all from me.

Did he recognize me? Had it been a joke to him to lead me on?

My head is a tangled mess of emotions, and I wrap my arms tighter around my knees. Sometimes the loneliness is so isolating that I want to close my eyes and sink into this dark abyss and never wake up. I do know one thing, though. If Norman becomes Alpha, then I won’t stick around to see what he has in store for me. That’s it for me.

Hearing someone enter the washroom, my head jerks up.

It’s two women. They’re going about their business, chatting happily, and I listen in, tiredly. They’re just discussing their boyfriends and the like, and I feel a pang of envy. I would give anything to have someone to talk to about trivial things. It’s not like I’ve not been invited to lunch every now and then. The problem is I’m simply not allowed to associate with anyone without Jonathon’s permission. If it’s for networking I’m given leeway, but he vets each and every person and I have to keep him on call so he can monitor the conversation. This type of controlling behavior has become my life now.

I wait for them to leave before dragging myself out of the stall.

My eyes are red-rimmed, my face splotchy as I stare at myself in the mirror.

I splash some water on my face, but I still look like hell. I’ve been staring at myself in the mirror for a while when someone walks in. I immediately look toward the door and see it’s one of the female security guards. I’ve seen her around, and she’s a recent hire.

"Hey." She approaches me, and I instantly take a step back, feeling far too raw.

She blinks and where someone else would have just backed off at my body language, she frowns. "You okay? Looks like you just had a good hard cry."

She instantly dives into her bag and takes out some wipes. "Here."

I stare at the wipes before slowly accepting them. "T-Thank you."

She has a small bag with her, and she digs into it. "You’re going to need some concealer, babe. And maybe some foundation to cover up the redness. Let me see. I always have it."

I don’t know what’s happening right now, but she hands me a small bottle. "Our skin tone seems to be the same. This might help."

I know what I’m holding but…

"I…" I look at her, feeling embarrassed. "I don’t know how to use this."

She blinks. "You don’t know how to use a concealer?"

I wish the floor would open up and swallow me whole right now. I expect her to scoff and look amused. To my surprise, she just grins. "Late bloomer, huh? I was the same. My sister had to drag me into makeup so I would look presentable. Not that I think there was anything wrong with me before. Here, let me. I mean, I looked pretty okay. Nobody wants a dolled-up security guard, you know."

She’s applying the concealer under my eyes and then pressing something else against it. It’s the same sponge the human woman in the salon used.

"You’ve got such nice skin, though. I’ve seen you around the office. You’re always running. I kept wondering how you kept your skin so fresh and glowing when you wore barely any makeup. Do you do any makeup?"

She’s like a force of nature, just plowing me down, and I don’t know how to react, "I-I have a lipstick."

She makes a tutting sound. "Lipstick is too basic. Every girl needs more than that in her arsenal."

I’m just standing there, frozen, as she fixes up my face.

"You’re going to need something cold for those eyes. Try pressing a cold spoon against them. They’ll get rid of the swelling for you. There, see? Now you look better."

She sounds so pleased that I find myself looking in the mirror only to realize the red splotches have been toned down.

"Thanks," I say slowly.

"Maya Green." She sticks out her hand. "I’m new to Seattle. Just moved here a couple of months ago."

I shake her hand, finding her abrupt nature a little refreshing. "Cynthia Rose. I’m the alpha’s PA."

"Oh." Realization dawns on her face. "So that’s why you’re always running around. He must keep you busy."

"Yeah."

I’m slowly gathering my wits.

"Anyway," I give her a small smile, "thanks for this. I should get going."

I’m about to walk away when she suddenly asks, "Do you want to get lunch today?"

I close my eyes, feeling disappointment settle in. "Thanks, but I can’t leave the building during lunchtime."

"That’s not a problem." Maya beams. "You can have lunch with me in the guard’s kitchen. We have a separate kitchen that nobody uses during lunch hours. The cafeteria is always crowded, so I usually eat there, and my sister packs a lot of food for me so we don’t even have to get food from there."

I hesitate.

Jonathon made it very clear to me that he doesn’t want me socializing with anyone. He likes to place cruel restrictions on me to make me suffer, calling it my penance for what my brother did to their family. However, sometimes I wonder if that is it or if he just enjoys torturing me and flexing the control he has over my very existence.

But ever since I got the taste of rebellion the other day, something in me has begun to wake up.

I don’t want to have lunch in the cafeteria all by myself, huddled in a corner. I don’t want to eat on the rooftop so I don’t see packmates laughing and talking among themselves. I want to have someone to eat with, at least. I tighten my jaw. What’s the worst Jonathon will do? He’s already plans to leave more scars on my back because his son has a violent temper. What’s a few more lashes?

Maya mistakes my silence for something else, and she lets out an awkward laugh. "You don’t have to. I mean, it was just an off––"

"I’d love to," I say firmly, turning to face her.

"Really?" Her eyes widen, making me wonder if I’m the first person to accept her offer.

"Yeah." I try to play it cool, but the excitement is beginning to settle in. "But I don’t want to get in trouble with the alpha, so let’s just keep this between us."

She doesn’t ask why the alpha would care about me having lunch with her, and I’m grateful for that since there is no reasonable explanation I can offer.

There is a spring in my step as I return to my desk. It’s childish, but the idea of having a semblance of a friend right now seems like some of my loneliness has abated. I want to smile, but I hold myself back. A friend. I’ve never had one before.

Lunchtime can’t come around soon enough, and when it does, I make sure Jonathon is out of his office before I scurry off toward the security office. The security office is located in the back of the main building, at the very end. Few people go there, so there is little chance of anyone catching me. True to Maya’s word, there is nobody in the kitchen, and she’s unpacking a huge lunch box. She’s set up the table with two plates, forks, and spoons, and the child in me wants to jump from excitement. The adult knows I’m being foolish, but the child has never even had this much for herself.

"Hey." I give her a cautious smile.

Her eyes brighten when she sees me. "Cynthia! Come in!"

I look at the array of dishes spread out and give her a curious look. "Chinese food?"

She flushes. "My sister loves Chinese food. That’s all she cooks. But it’s not bad."

I want to ask her if she lives with her sister, but I don’t know if it’s an appropriate question. As we sit down to eat, I realize the food tastes really good. It’s also light on the stomach. Maya’s kind of a chatterbox who flits from topic to topic. I kind of enjoy listening to her, but I’m also conscious of the time. I answer her questions about my life and family as vaguely as possible. By the end of the lunch, I managed to learn that Maya lives with her older sister, who’s a sous chef, and their father is no longer in the picture, but their mother is still alive.

Somehow hearing about her normal life with such normal problems jerks me back to reality. I want this. I want this kind of normalcy in my life where my biggest problem is where to buy dinner from. This is why I’ve been fighting all this time.

"Rory’s going to make dumplings tomorrow," Maya says as she packs up her lunch box. "I’ll steal some extra sauce for you."

She’s taken it for granted that I’m going to be here tomorrow, and my lips curve.

"Sure. I’ll bring something as well."

But as I’m about to leave, I hesitate. Looking over my shoulder at her, I debate for a moment before saying, "Maya?"

"Hm?" She looks up at me.

I wet my lips, nervously. "Could you… Let’s keep our lunch meetings between us, okay? I don’t want you getting in trouble."

She blinks and for a moment, I think she’s about to say something but then she just smiles. "Sure."

I hurry back to my office, and as I do, my previous misery has faded, having been replaced by a hard ball of determination.

I just have to focus on the goal at hand which is my freedom.

It doesn’t matter what I have to do to attain that. If I have to use my body to do so, I’ll do it. I won’t let myself feel worthless over it. And if I do feel worthless, at least I’ll be a free woman.

I have to kick start the negotiations one way or the other, so the first thing I do is place a call to Adam’s office. To my surprise, once his assistant finds out my name, he’s more than agreeable to set up a meeting. The whole thing takes less than five minutes and has me staring down at the phone in confusion. For this past week, I’ve been calling and trying to set an appointment, and I’ve been blocked at every turn. And now, all of a sudden I’m being given an appointment for tomorrow evening, almost as if a slot had already been prepared for me.

I check my email for the details, and sure enough, not a minute later, an email pops into my inbox with the details.

My hand stills on the mouse as I stare at the screen.

Why is the meeting being held in a club rather than his office? And why am I being invited alone?

A feeling of dread settles in my stomach. He definitely recognized me in the conference room. There’s no other reason why Adam would request a meeting in such a private location. Along with the entire Moore family, I also hold a membership to the Dilante House. It’s a top-tier social club, exclusively for our kind. I sometimes have to organize events or business dinners for Jonathon, so I’m aware of the setting. Adam has booked a private room for dinner and a meeting, and I can only imagine what he wants to say to me out of sight of the other members.

I press my lips together anxiously.

I can only imagine the crude accusations that are going to fly my way. Of course, he’ll think I went after him at his father’s instructions. This is not going to help the negotiations any. My fingers begin to tap on the desk, my mind running a mile and a half, trying to figure a way out of this. I could always deny, deny, deny, but I have a feeling he’s not going to buy that.

"What if I were to claim temporary amnesia?" I murmur. "Or temporary insanity? He’s got no proof I’m lying."

But nothing I come up with sounds believable.

I’m going to have to face him, most probably today.

Although…

I study the email again, and a flare of hope builds up within me. There’s nowhere in the email where it says that Adam will be coming for the meeting. As far as I know, he could be sending someone from his legal team. Or maybe his whole legal team. I begin to relax. It was just sex for him. Why would he care? It may have been my first time, but for someone like him, I’m sure he has a magnitude of girls running after him.

I sink into my seat, my wolf unsettled for some reason by the thought.

"It’s okay." I stare up at the ceiling, wondering why it hurts so much. "I’m just an insignificant nobody. It’ll be okay."

Adam won’t show up.

I’m sure of it

****

As always, Jonathon tells me to keep my phone connected to his during the meeting. Tony drops me off at the club after work and tells me to call him when I’m done.

I head inside and am guided to one of the private rooms. However, before I can enter, I’m asked to put my phone in one of those signal-blocking boxes. I freeze.

"Why do I have to do that?" I ask weakly, knowing the hammer will fall on my head if Jonathon is not connected by call to this meeting.

"I’m sorry, ma’am," the woman shakes her head, box open in her hands, "you cannot enter the room."

"But why?"

"This is one of the three VIP private rooms, Miss Rose. No cellular devices are allowed inside. We offer complete and utter privacy in here."

I stare at her for a minute, after asking, "Can we shift this to another room then?"

"I’m afraid this is the room that was booked."

My mouth moves for a moment, and then I close my eyes. "Alright, give me a minute then, please?"

She nods, and I step to the side to call Jonathon. He answers after a few rings, and I hesitantly explain the situation to him. However, I’m not surprised when he doesn’t believe me.

"I can give the phone to the manager," I relent.

"Do that then!"

Feeling humiliated, I hand over my phone, and the manager tells him what she told me. I can hear Jonathon argue with her and even try to use his status as alpha to convince her otherwise, but the manager remains undeterred. At some point, I begin to admire her refusal to bend. Ultimately, even Jonathon has no choice but to give up.

"Give her your phone," he barks angrily when she hands it back to me.

I let out a sigh of relief and turn off my phone before handing it over. She encloses it in the box before opening the door to the private room for me. As soon as I step in, I know I’ve made a mistake. There is a dinner table set for two people in the middle of the room.

I immediately turn around but the door has already been closed.

My hand goes on the doorknob, but I stop myself.

I have to see this negotiation through. No matter what.

I run my fingers through my hair. I have nothing on aside from a subtle lip gloss. I look the furthest thing from attractive. In fact, I look rather washed out and plain. I’m sure I can convince Adam he’s mistaken.

I’m still trying to calm myself down and convince myself that perhaps it’s not Adam who’ll show up when the door opens. I quickly turn around, and my blood turns cold. Even though I expected him to come, seeing him in person brings a different kind of anxiety. My wolf is acting strange again, but I push it aside, trying to keep my focus steady.

Adam closes the door behind him before turning to look at me.

We stand there, a short distance from each other, and I can’t help but remember the way his hands explored my body for hours on end.

"Mr. Moo––"

"I thought you were going to call me Adrian." Adam smirks, tucking his hands in his pockets. He’s as devilishly handsome as he was that night in the bar. The only thing is that this time I am not going to be swayed. I can feel my animal roll over inside me and I harden myself.

"I’m afraid I don’t know what you’re talking about, Mr. Moore."

"My name’s Adam, not Mr. Moore," he interjects. "Or you can call me Adrian. After all, that’s the name you chose."

He’s not going to let up.

I meet his gaze, refusing to cower or back down. "You’re mistaking me for someone else. If that’s the reason you called me here for a private meeting, then I’m afraid I have other matters to deal with."

Gathering my courage, I walk past him, only for him to ask in a low voice, "Don’t you want to know why your wolf is so happy to see me?"

My hand is reaching for the doorknob when it pauses in midair.

Happy?

Suddenly, my wolf’s reaction every time I see or think of Adam makes sense. What I thought was strange was it being happy.

But why?

This time, when Adam speaks, his voice is closer, and I realize he’s standing right behind me. "I had a feeling you wouldn’t know."

"Know what?" I ask tightly.

"Why your head and your heart are at war right now?" He sounds smug, amused.

"My head and my heart are perfectly––" I whirl around, ready to say something sharp, when I see how close he is to me. My words get stuck in my throat.

"W-Why’re you standing so close to me?" I finally stammer out. I have no room to move.

"I just wanted to see if your ears still turn red when you get flustered?" Adam smiles. "I guess I’m right."

"Get away from me," I hiss.

To his credit, he takes a step back, but then he lifts his hand, taking a strand of my silver hair and bringing it to his lips.

"You looked gorgeous with black hair, but silver hair makes you look ethereal."

His voice is low, rubbing against me in all the wrong places.

"I want to leave." I’m beginning to feel panicked.

"I thought you had business to discuss with me."

I’m torn.

I don’t want to stay here a minute longer, but if I leave, then Jonathon… I might never get my freedom from Jonathon.

I’m standing at a crossroads now, each path more painful than the next.

Adam studies me now. "If you leave now, you won’t get the answer to what’s behind your animal’s strange behavior, you know."

"My wolf is fine!" I burst out. "I don’t know what you’re going on about."

He chuckles, making me go still. "Is it? Or do you feel exhilarated for some reason?"

He steps toward me, and my breath catches.

"Do you feel your body heat up when I approach you?"

My body trembles, my nipples tightening under my dress shirt for some reason. "N-No."

His hand lifts, and before I can guess what he’s about to do, it cups my chest. A sudden whimper leaves my mouth, my body burning at his touch.

"Stop that."

My voice is weak though, and Adam smiles. "Anna or Cynthia, you’re still the same woman I took to my bed. What I want to know is under whose instructions did you––"

My hand moves before I can stop myself, the sound of skin striking skin echoing in the room.

"Bastard," I snarl, shoving him back. "I am many things, Adam Moore, but the one thing I’m not is a whore."

He isn’t fazed by my slap or the four claw marks on the side of his face. Instead, he just smirks. "No, probably not. But what you are is my fated mate."

My blood turns to ice.

What?

I’m his what?