CHAPTER 8

CHAPTER 8

Cynthia

Everything Jonathon has ever done to me has been in the privacy of his home.

To the world, he’s dressed me up like a doll, and I have at least had my self-respect in front of the pack. But today, he’s stripped me of every form of respect.

I could sell your body if I so please. His words are still ringing in my ears as he forces me to take off my coat and bare my body to his oldest son.

I feel cold inside.

He has reduced me to a prostitute, just like he promised. And now, here I am, wearing clothes meant to arouse his son and business competitor.

I should have jumped off the bridge, I think numbly. I don’t want to live this life. I don’t want to exist like this.

I can see the malicious amusement in Jonathon’s eyes as he watches me hand him the coat, and I lower my gaze. Little by little, he’s crushing me, and even when I try to fight back, he manages to extinguish the flame inside me. He fired me two days ago, sitting on my couch while I stood in front of him, in my home.

All the hard work I put into his company was credited to everyone else but me. He told me, in no uncertain terms, that I was going to be an assistant in name to Adam, but my real job was to seduce him and sleep with him. All my clothes were thrown out as Jonathon’s men ransacked my apartment, and all my sensible clothes were replaced by tiny miniskirts and form-fitting blouses that put everything on display to the world. My shoes were dumped into a plastic bag and replaced by stilettos and heels. A bunch of makeup was dumped before me, and one of the staff members from Jonathon’s house spent one full day teaching me what kind of makeup to apply. Even now, my face is thick with makeup.

The door shuts behind Jonathon, and I stand frozen in my spot.

I hear Adam’s chair move, and I close my eyes, feeling small and worthless.

I have stood before CEOs and important businessmen, confident and sure of myself. Today, I’m reduced to a slut.

My wolf is quiet. My head is quiet.

Everything is quiet.

Adam is taking me by the hand and guiding me to the sofa in his sitting area.

Am I supposed to take my clothes off now? I wonder.

Then suddenly, I feel something wrap around me. He’s taken off his jacket and put it around me. I stare down at my hands, my eyes burning. The quiet in my head is dispersing as a heavy despair is taking hold. I want to run away. I want to run somewhere far away where there is nobody. I want to break down and scream and cry. I want to rip off this blood debt that has become the bane of my existence.

Adam’s hand lifts, and he begins wiping my face with a wet wipe, removing the thick makeup. The pile of used wet wipes grows on the coffee table, and he keeps going at it until everything is removed. His eyes are fierce, and I don’t have the courage to meet his gaze. I don’t know what he’s thinking yet, and I don’t think I want to know.

"Here," he gets up and brings me a bottle of water, "drink this."

I stare at the bottle before slowly taking it from him, but I don’t drink it.

He walks out of the room, leaving me alone.

His jacket, covered in his scent, is wrapped around me, and it makes my wolf whimper. Not in arousal, but misery.

I stare down at the floor.

Jonathon often likes to remind me that I’m disposable. Until now, I have been aware of how useful I am when it comes to his business and company, so I thought it was just a way to insult me. But now I realize he was right.

"You will no longer interact with Norman." Jonathon had given me a cool look. "You will update me weekly on what is going on with Adam. You are just to seduce him. I don’t care about what projects he’s working on. I want to know about his daily activities, who he talks to, who he’s close with. I want you in his bed and soon. If Norman approaches you for updates, you are not to tell him anything. If he hits you, you call me. I’ll deal with it. We’ll postpone your punishments for now. We can’t have Adam seeing the scars on your back. Men don’t like broken bodies."

"Broken bodies, huh?" I stare at the water bottle in my hands, a bitter laugh escaping my lips.

My thoughts are dark and heavy, and there are so many of them swirling around in my head that I can’t even grasp a single thought and go with it. Everything is wrapped in a blanket of shame and self-loathing, and I wrap it tighter around myself.

I don’t know how much time passes before Adam returns, but the bottle in my hand is now warm, the condensation having dried up.

"Go change." His voice is firm, and when I finally manage to look at him, I see him holding out a bag from a clothing brand I recognize. I find myself searching his gaze, and there’s no pity in it, not even a hint of sympathy. He just looks angry.

Is he angry at me?

I find myself taking the bag from him, and he points toward a door in the corner. "You can change in there."

I get to my feet, holding the jacket to me as if for dear life, bag in hand.

I’m not used to walking on such thin heels, and I stumble a little, only for Adam to catch me. The fury in his eyes burns me. However, his touch is gentle.

"Sit," he orders, dragging the chair closest to us.

It’s like my body is only functional if I’m being ordered around right now. I sit down, and he crouches down before me, untying the bands of the heels. He pulls them off my feet and throws them to the side as if they’re something vile.

"Go on."

I make my way to the bathroom and close the door behind me.

There is a midnight blue blouse in the bag with long sleeves and a simple ruffled neck. Under it is a cashmere sweater, a pair of comfortable pants, and a set of padded beige winter boots. I struggle out of the uncomfortable tight-fitted clothes, and as they fall to the floor of the luxurious bathroom, I feel like I can breathe. I don’t expect the clothes Adam bought to fit, but they do, perfectly so. Staring at myself in the mirror, fully clothed, relief is an overwhelming emotion. I wash my face, splashing cold water on it over and over again until some semblance of normalcy returns to me.

My long silver hair has been curled and styled into a sexy bun with strands falling over my face, and it makes me want to yank my hair out. I rip out the pins and tie the tangled hair into a rough-looking braid. Right now, I want to look the furthest thing from attractive.

I stare at myself for a long few minutes.

I want to smear something on my face. I want to make myself as horrendous as possible so that nobody looks twice at me.

A knock on the door has me going still.

"You okay, Cynthia?"

Adam sounds calm, and for some reason, the sound of his voice makes this tight ball inside of me unfurl. I let out a shuddering breath. Picking up the discarded clothes, I toss them into the bag and leave them in the bathroom. I don’t want to look at them again.

Adam’s standing outside when I open the door, and his first question is, "Feel better?"

I nod.

"Ready to talk?"

"No."

Taking me by the hand, he pulls me toward the sofa. "You’re going to have to tell me why you got fired from a company you’ve been working at for more than ten years and suddenly brought here."

He doesn’t mention the clothes, but that doesn’t mean he’s not thinking of them.

"He’d found a replacement for me."

"Bullshit," Adam says, my hands in his. He’s rubbing them as if to warm them up. His touch is centering me, and my head is beginning to feel more clear now. His hands are rough and hard, and I don’t want him to remove them. But he will if he finds out his father sent me here as a spy. Adam is ambitious. I’m not unaware of all the effort he’s put into this company and into the social work in the pack. He says I’m his fated mate, but I don’t know how he knows. Aside from this intense attraction between us, I don’t know how to tell anything. I wish I could ask somebody or have a platform where I could look it up.

I know I could probably ask Maya, the new friend I had just made, but I don’t even have her phone number, and now that I don’t work at KDL Foods anymore, there is no way I can meet her. Asking Tony is an option, but he’s very loyal to Jonathon. He might tell him. I would have asked Healer Lydia had I not heard about the attack on her yesterday. I had anticipated that Jonathon would do something to stop Lydia from asking questions, but I hadn’t thought he would move that fast. I dare not approach her, either.

That leaves me with Adam and his words, and after everything this world has put me through, trust is something that doesn’t come easy to me. My rope is right now in Jonathon’s hands, but the moment either Adam or Norman becomes the alpha, it will be transferred to them. In a blood debt, the person given over is nothing more than a mere slave. The practice was rife in olden times, and now, while it is not outlawed, it is heavily frowned upon. Despite that, in a progressive pack such as this one, I was given over for a blood debt. I am no better than a slave, to be passed down from Alpha to Alpha until one of them frees me. Right now, the small weak thread that Jonathon has offered me is a lifeline I’m clutching to. The idea of my freedom. Norman will never grant me that, so I’m treading dangerous waters right now by helping Jonathon or even considering it. But if my leash is handed over to Adam, would he free me?

I can’t outright tell Adam about the blood debt since it’s part of the whole package. I cannot speak of it to anyone who does not know. But I have proof of its existence, which I can show him. But I’ve learned that when someone knows they have another under their control, they show their colors fast. What if Adam decides he can use me like his father is using me now to get into his competitors’ companies using whatever methods possible?

It’s a far-off thought, but for me, who is living in this hell right now, it is not that impossible to imagine.

I study him, and my chest aches. Will I one day have to see these eyes turn cold and greedy in front of me? Will I be looked at as nothing more than a tool?

"Cynthia?"

Adam’s voice is concerned, and I jerk out of my dark thoughts.

The fact that he is able to comfort me so quickly, frightens me. For someone to have such an emotional hold over my soul is a terrifying thought.

"It’s nothing," I mutter, trying to pull my hands away, but Adam raises his brows.

"My father wanted you to seduce me, didn’t he?"

I purse my lips. "Nobody calls you a stupid man."

He lets out a bark of laughter. "No, they don’t."

He seems greatly amused for some reason as he studies me. "You didn’t mention to him that I already took you to my bed?"

The way he phrases it makes my body tighten in that same familiar sensation it did when he touched me that fateful night. His eyes darken, almost as if he senses my body’s reaction.

“Cynthia,” Adam murmurs, his voice sinfully dark, “you’re not making this easy on me.”

I glare at him, not knowing what to do. It’s not like there is an on/off switch inside me I can flick. The way he’s watching me isn’t helping either. However, I already gave in the first time, and the result of my impulsive actions is still haunting me.

"What I don’t understand," Adam says suddenly, his gaze suddenly turning serious, "is why you’re letting my father put you through all this? If you’re being so badly mistreated, why not leave?"

I stare at him and have no choice but to bite my tongue. He doesn’t know, and I can’t tell him.

He sighs. "You’re not going to tell me."

"I can’t."

Adam takes my cold hands in his once again, and this time, his smile has a wicked edge to it. "So, my father doesn’t know you’re already mine. How interesting."

I snatch my hand away. "I’m not yours!"

The confidence in his voice flusters me. He snatches my hand right back. "I disagree."

Feeling a childish annoyance, I scowl. "I belong to me, not you."

"That you do," Adam agrees before lifting my hand to his lips, his light gray eyes piercing into me, an animalistic hunger in them, "but you’re also mine, Cynthia. You wear my marks all over your body."

My face burns at his words as I recall the way he bit down on nearly every inch of my body. "Tha-That’s not something you should say out loud!"

"Then how should I say it?" Adam teases me, grinning.

He’s enjoying my discomfort, and I don’t know what to do with myself. I give him a tight-lipped look. "That night is never happening again."

His grin broadens. "Well, at least you acknowledged that it did happen."

I close my eyes briefly in a bid for patience. There is no winning with this man.

When I open my eyes, he’s no longer smiling. "I don’t care what my father has planned, Cynthia. But I want you here, by my side. And keeping you here is the best way to show you why you should choose. Whatever your loyalty is to my father, it should pale before our own fated mate bond and what’s best for the pack.

I look at him, wishing my tongue wasn’t in knots. Finally, I manage, "I wish it was that simple."

He’s silent for a moment. "But you won’t tell me."

I know what he’s referring to, and my heart tightens in my chest as if something is clamping around it in a painful grip, and I breathe, "No."

When he moves, I flinch, and he raises his brows. I can see the tension in his jaws before he carefully says, "I’m not my father or Norman. I will never raise my voice at you, Cynthia, or my hand. You can keep your secrets until you’re ready to share them."

He gets to his feet and holds out his hand. "Come on."

"Where?" I look at him, wary.

"To do some shopping and get you some proper clothes," Adam says patiently. "I’m not going to have people gawking at my woman."

I take his hand without thinking, muttering, "I just told you, I’m not yours."

"Of course, you’re not." Adam puts his hand on my lower back, guiding me out the door.

I don’t know why I’m letting him buy me the clothes. Perhaps it’s because I don’t have anything worth wearing anymore. Jonathon’s men took away everything I owned, and the only money I have on me is what I’ve hidden away.

I see a few eyes on me as we leave the building. Most of the gazes are curious, and some of them are not so friendly. I catch a few women shooting me hostile looks, their eyes drifting toward Adam and the casual way his hand is on my back. I’ve got enough going on in my life to start wondering what their problem is. However, since I’ll be working here now, I don’t want to create enemies before I’ve even started.

"Can you get your hand off my back?" I try after unsuccessfully trying to move away from him.

"Is it bothering you?" Adam gives me an innocent look.

"Yes!"

He shrugs. "Too bad."

I glower at this man. Everything slides off him like butter!

"People are staring at us," I hiss.

"Oh, are they?" He looks over his shoulder before looking down at me, a wicked smile playing on his lips. "Do you want to give them a real reason to stare?"

For a moment, I don’t understand, and then I see the way his eyes have drifted to my lips. My insides tighten in painful need and I grit out, "No, thank you."

Adam doesn’t own a flashy car. He’s got a Bentley whereas Norman owns a fleet of flashy colorful cars. Since he’s the Alpha’s son, he believes he should always have the best of the best.

"Is this your only car?" I ask.

Adam gives me a surprised look. "Of course. Do you want your own?"

The way he so casually asks that, as if he will get me a car if I simply ask for one, makes my nails dig into my arm. Nobody has ever offered me anything on a platter before, and to have it done so makes me anxious. It makes me wary and doubtful of his intentions.

"I wasn’t asking for myself." I look out the window, feeling uneasy. "I just meant that Norman has a lot of cars."

Adam makes a displeased sound. "All those cars have come from the pack’s budget."

I turn my head to look at him, taken aback. "How can you say that for sure?"

He gives me a grim smile. "Alphas are allowed to have a certain amount in their banks. Any company owned by them, the profits from those companies are deposited in the pack budget. Alphas exist for the pack. Their house belongs to the pack, as do their earnings. It’s to ensure that whoever steps into the alpha position doesn’t get greedy for power. I’m not surprised my father managed to figure out a loophole. He must be paying Norman a massive salary. How much did you get paid, though?"

"Nothing."

The confession is out of my mouth before I can stop myself, and Adam screeches the car to a halt. He turns to face me. "Excuse me?"

He’s staring at me, and I feel foolish. "I meant… It was a joke––"

"No, it wasn’t," he says, his voice hard. "Stop lying to me. In all these years you worked for KDL Foods, you never saw a penny?"

The wriggle room out of this situation is growing narrower by the second. "Well, I kind of didn’t need the money because, you know, Jonathon pays for everything, including my apartment and groceries, and what would I do with––"

"Everyone needs money, Cynthia," Adam says, his tone angry for some reason. Why is he angry? Why does he even care?

He stares at me when I say nothing, and then he looks away, staring out the front of the car, as if deep in thought. After a few minutes of tense silence, he asks, slowly, "Do you have a bank account?"

"No."

"So, where am I going to deposit your salary?"

"Jonathon will make one for––"

"I’m not giving your hard-earned money to my father!" he snarls, slamming his hand on the steering wheel, enraged.

I fall silent, frozen in place. Is his anger going to turn into violence? Will that violence turn to me?

"You can keep it," I say hurriedly, wanting this conversation over with. "I don’t mind."

My words have his head whipping toward me, his expression twisted in an emotion I don’t recognize.

"Keep it?" he asks in a soft whisper. "You want to work for me, and then all the time and blood and sweat that you put into my company, I should take that money from you and keep it?"

"I-If you want." I try to shrug, hiding the way my hands are shaking. "I’ll talk to Jonathon and––"

"I don’t want that," he snaps at me. He looks so angry I’m beginning to wonder if I should exit the car.

"I don’t understand how you are okay with this," he suddenly says. "You’ve worked at KDL Foods for a very long time, close to a decade, or even more. I know. I looked up your resume online. But all this time, you’ve not been paid anything, and it doesn’t bother you. How does it not bother you? It pisses me off!"

I open my mouth to say it does bother me, that it’s not fair and I wanted my money. However, I end up pressing my lips together.

My silence seems to annoy him even more. "You know, everything I’ve heard about you since I’ve met you has been awe-worthy. You’ve been described as fierce in the boardroom, one of KDL Foods’ prized negotiators, and quick on your feet every time the company has faced a problem. So why is it that you can’t stand up for yourself? Are all those stories made up? Have you been a coward this whole time, letting my father exploit you?"

"You shouldn’t talk about things you don’t understand." I feel a stirring of anger inside me now. "You don’t know anything, so maybe you should butt out."

"I would know if you’d tell me," Adam growls.

I stare at him, pushing back the urge to punch him in the face. He’s so pushy.

"I can’t tell you what I can’t tell you, Adam!" My own voice rises in irritation. "Maybe learn to take no for an answer."

He gives me an annoyed look before turning his attention back to the road. "I take back what I said. You can be quite frustrating."

I glower out the window.

He starts the car, his voice hard. "Let’s get one thing straight. You will be getting your salary here, even if I have to pay you in cash."

I doubt Jonathon will let me keep that money, but Adam can try.

He begins driving, and as my own anger fades, I feel a warmth in my chest that I can’t explain. I don’t understand it, but some of my bitterness has faded, and I find myself smiling as I look down at my lap, my heart a bit lighter.

Perhaps Jonathon didn’t think things through when he sent me here.