Chapter 4

CHAPTER 4

AURORA

T his couldn't actually be happening. At any moment I was going to wake up from this nightmare, tucked safely in my bed. Any moment now…

We reached the top of the staircase.

My parents' master suite was to the left. My room was to the right, along with two guest rooms.

Mr. Winterbourne used the pressure of his hand on my back to guide me to the right.

We stopped before my closed bedroom door.

It was as if he knew exactly which room was mine.

I didn't move. My fingernails bit into my palms as I tried to quell my rising panic.

"Open the door, Aurora."

I jerked at the sound of his voice.

I still didn't move. I couldn't.

His hand shifted. He caressed my back before brushing my hair off my shoulder, exposing my neck. His warm breath tickled my ear as he leaned down to whisper, "Don't make me repeat myself, little one."

I swallowed several times, trying to get some saliva in my dry mouth. I licked my lips and forced the words out. "Please. I have nothing to do with any of this."

He chuckled. It was an ominous sound, like the rumbling of distant thunder. "You have everything to do with this."

My brow furrowed. He couldn't possibly think I was involved in my stepfather's embezzlement? I barely knew the name of the company where he worked, and I was hopeless with computers.

The seconds stretched thin.

"Aurora."

I squeezed my eyes shut. It wasn't my name he uttered but a warning. When I finally opened my eyes, I stared at the silver doorknob. I wanted to turn around and scream at him that if he wanted the door open, he could damn well do it himself—but I didn't. Deep down, I knew without being told that he wanted me to be the one to open the door. He wanted me to be complicit in whatever happened on the other side of it. After all, I was the one who would have opened the door. The one who essentially invited him into my bedroom by doing so. I was the helpless fly foolishly letting the spider in.

I turned my head to glance down the hallway. Hoping in vain to see my mother or stepfather charging up the stairs to save me. No one appeared.

Seeing no other way out, I held out a shaking hand and slowly turned the knob.

The sleeve of his suit brushed my ear as he reached past me and swung the door open wide with his palm.

I stood frozen on the threshold staring into the dark interior.

This room was my safe haven, my sanctuary. It was where I fled to escape my miserable home life. Although the rest of the house was garishly decorated with the opulent trappings of wealth, my room was sparsely furnished with only a double bed and a bureau. My mother always said decorating my room would be a waste of money.

The only real splash of color was the pastel green bedspread, which didn't reach the edges of the mattress. It was the same bedspread I had used as a toddler when I slept in a converted crib twin bed. It still bore the stain from a crushed juice box when I was seven. The windows were bare of curtains; only a pair of white metal blinds protected my privacy from prying neighbors' eyes. My mother refused to let me mark the walls up with posters, so they were a stark, unblemished white.

Still, next to the music room with my piano, this was my favorite place in the whole house, and it was being violated.

Once again, there was a hand at my lower back, gently pushing me forward.

The moment I crossed the threshold, I scrambled to the other side of the room, positioning the bed between us.

Mr. Winterbourne stepped inside. He flicked the light switch on the wall. Nothing happened.

I glanced up at the ceiling light. "The light bulb burned out a few years ago." No one in the household seemed to care, since the staff were always too busy attending to my demanding parents' needs. And it wasn't like my mother ever ventured into my room to check on me.

Why am I talking?

Why am I telling him that?

He took a few steps deeper into the room and turned on the small lamp sitting on my bureau. The light filtering through the cream lampshade gave the room a soft, warm glow that I usually found comforting. Not now.

He stepped back and closed the bedroom door. He twisted the center lock on the doorknob. It silently clicked into place.

I gripped the low bedpost at the foot of my bed. The sweat on my palm made the wood varnish feel tacky. I inhaled a shaky breath. "Mr. Winterbourne?—"

He turned to stare at me.

Words deserted me.

His masculine presence overwhelmed my tiny bedroom. He was too big, too fierce looking, too frightening. Everything about him screamed power and control. I knew he was only doing this to mess with my parents, to make them comply and give him his money back. He couldn't possibly have any interest in me. That whole thing about me being taken as collateral because I was something of value was a joke. Taking me up to my bedroom was a charade, an intimidation tactic. I was just a pawn in his cruel game.

He probably hoped I would start screaming, bringing my parents rushing to my aid, giving him an excuse to use violence against them. Well, he'd calculated wrong. Neither my stepfather nor my own mother gave two shits about me. They certainly wouldn't risk angering him to save me. His game wouldn't work. As soon as I made him realize that, he would leave my bedroom and I could then give in to the urge to curl up in the fetal position under my covers and cry myself to sleep.

His long fingers reached down to unbutton his suit jacket. Keeping his gaze trained on me, he shrugged out of it and folded it in half before draping it over the bottom railing of my bed. "Roman."

I blinked, not entirely sure what he'd said since I could barely hear his sharp, clipped words over the rapid beating of my heart. "What?"

"My name is Roman."

I shook my head. That didn't seem appropriate. The man was practically twice my age and my stepfather's boss. "Please, Mr. Winterbourne, my parents aren't going to?—"

He raised his left arm and unbuttoned his shirt cuff. He slowly and methodically rolled his sleeve up his forearm. "I see we are going to have a discipline problem. I've already told you to call me Roman."

I bristled. My chin jutted out as I boldly fired back, "You told me your name was Roman. Technically, you didn't tell me to call you Roman."

I read once that people facing inevitable death could have this surge of confidence displace their fear the very second before the sword fell. That was the only explanation for my outburst. The moment I said it, I regretted it. Lowering my head, I mumbled, "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to say that."

The only sound in the room was the slight rustle of fabric as he rolled up his other sleeve. "Show me how sorry you are."

My head snapped up. "I… I… don't know what you… I really am sorry. I didn't mean to be rude."

"You'll soon learn that in this world, words mean very little. Actions are what count."

My fingertips twitched against my thighs. This time tapping out a hurried sonata by Bach. "I don't know what you mean. I don't know how to show you I'm sorry other than to say it."

He crossed his arms over his chest and leaned his shoulders against my door, completely blocking any possible escape. "Take off your dress."

I stepped backward. The metal blinds rattled as I brushed them with my shoulder. He was taking this too far. I had assumed he'd only brought me up here to intimidate my stepfather and mother, to teach them a lesson. I never actually contemplated that he would… that he would… oh, God! He couldn't possibly think to?—

I clutched the front of my dress in my fist. "I want you leave. Please."

He pushed off of the door and stood before me as he slowly unraveled the knot in his tie and pulled the long strip of silk free from his collar. He unbuttoned the top two buttons. "Fortunately, it's what I want that matters."

He folded the tie in half and flipped one side over the other several times before pulling the end through the final loop, forming a slipknot. It looked like a tiny noose.

I slid along the wall. If I could make it to my closet door, maybe I could lock myself inside. In an effort to distract him, I warned, "I'll scream."

He pinned me with his dark eyes. "Do it and see what happens."

My heart stopped beating.

I was in trouble. Real trouble.

In desperation, I blurted out, "I have a boyfriend!"

Trevor barely met the definition of boyfriend. He was the most popular boy in our class. He was only interested in me because I wasn't that interested in him. He was like a child deprived of a toy. Every time I passed him in the hall, he would pin me to the wall in an effort to coerce me into going out with him. I'd finally said yes a few days ago, if only to get him off my back. We were supposed to be going out this weekend. I figured I would go out with him, we would have a boring time, and he'd move on to the next girl, but Roman didn't know that.

He raised an eyebrow. "A boyfriend?"

If I were more experienced, I would have recognized the cold, threatening edge to his voice.

I nodded. "Yes! A boyfriend. His name is Trevor. He'll be really mad if he thinks I'm cheating on him. So you need to leave."

I held my breath.

I kept as still as possible while I waited for him to respond. I honestly didn't know if he would leave… or pounce.

He rubbed the silk of his noose-like tie between his thumb and forefinger. "Come here."

"Why?"

"Because I said so."

"If I come, will you then leave?"

The corner of his mouth quirked upward. " When you come … I doubt you'll want me to leave."

My cheeks burned at the double entendre. "That's not what I meant."

"I know. You have until the count of three to obey me."

What the fuck?

"One."

"Wait!"

"Two."

"Stop counting. I don't?—"

"Three."

My body reacted, a primal form of twisted self-preservation. I lurched forward, stopping within two feet of him.

"Closer."

"Please."

"One."

I stepped closer. I could smell his cologne and see a few dark chest hairs peeking out from his open shirt collar. A man. Roman was a man. I could barely handle the boys at my school. I had no idea how to handle over six feet of muscled man .

He slipped a finger under my chin and tilted my head back. "Good girl. You'll soon learn it's easier to obey me."

I'll soon learn? Why did that sound like this wasn't going to be over after tonight?

I swallowed as I resisted the urge to lick my dry lips, instinctively knowing I didn't want to draw his attention to my mouth. Tears blurred my vision. "What are you going to do to me?"

He didn't respond at first. His gaze moved over every feature of my face, studying me. I watched the sensual movement of his mouth when he finally spoke. "Whatever I want."

A sob tearing from my throat, I turned to run, not caring about the consequences. I shifted to the left, intending to make a dash for my closet. The moment my shoulders were turned away from him, his silk tie slipped over my head from behind before I could even take a single step. I swung back toward him.

Before I could reach up to grasp the thin fabric, he stepped forward. He was standing so close the hem of my skirt brushed his thighs. I didn't know whether to use my hands to push him away or to pull the tie off. The moment of indecision cost me dearly.

Roman grasped the slipknot and tightened it until it rested against my throat. It wasn't tight enough to cut off my oxygen. It felt more like a choker necklace. He grasped the long ends of the tie and circled around to my back. "Let's play a game."

The silk of the tie pulled at my neck as he moved. I was afraid to speak.

With his free hand, he drew his fingertips down the center of my back, sending a shiver over my spine.

His voice was dark and commanding. "What color panties do you have on?"

I struggled to remember, finally blurting out, "Pink."

"Show me."

I didn't move.

He tugged on the silk tie from behind, a warning.

With shaking hands, I reached for the hem of my dress. Tears slipped down my cheeks as I gathered the fabric into my fists and lifted it. The hem tickled the backs of my thighs as it slid upward.

"Higher," he commanded.

Biting my lip to stifle a sob, I lifted the skirt higher until a chill raced over the exposed skin of my ass.

He touched the soft cotton of my panties where the edge hugged my right ass cheek. My thighs clenched. This was the first time I'd ever been touched like this.

Despite being eighteen, I'd never really hooked up with any boys. I was too frightened of having sex and getting pregnant while still in school like my mom. It had been drilled into me from a very young age that having to marry my father when she was only sixteen and pregnant had almost ruined her life and it was all my fault. After years of such unrelenting venom, it was no wonder I was still a virgin who'd barely let anyone touch me.

"Lower your skirt."

I let out a sigh of relief as I dropped the fabric.

He circled around to my front. The silk tie slid against my sensitive skin. He nodded his chin toward me. "Unbutton the front of your dress."

My lower lip trembled. I could taste the salt of my tears as they slipped over my lips. "Please," I begged, "just let me go."

"No. Now do as I say."

My hands shook so badly it took several tries to unbutton the small plastic buttons that held the front of my dress together. With each button, more of my skin was exposed. A few more buttons and the top of my bra was visible. I looked up at his stern expression. He lifted an eyebrow as his mouth tightened. Taking that as a sign I wasn't done yet, I unbuttoned several more buttons. My dress was now open to the top of my stomach.

He shifted the tie into his left fist and held it to the side. It tightened around my neck. I inhaled sharply. His gaze captured mine. "Hush, baby."

His fingertips caressed my collarbone then slipped lower. He stroked the top of my breast, then traced the scalloped lace edge of my matching pink bra.

I tightened my abdominal muscles as my stomach fluttered.

"Does your boyfriend touch you like this?"

I shook my head.

"Don't lie to me. Has he ever touched you here?" He cupped the underside of my right breast.

"No," I squeaked as I rose up on my toes, trying to escape his touch.

His thumb brushed over my nipple. "How about here? Has he ever put his mouth on your nipples and sucked them till you screamed?"

My eyes widened. Oh, my God. I couldn't respond. I could only shake my head no.

He circled around me again. His knuckles brushed my spine as he pulled the silk tie taut from behind. I stumbled backward, crashing into him.

His free arm wrapped around my waist, pulling me flush against him. There was no mistaking the hard press of his cock against my lower back. He whispered harshly in my ear, "Then I will let him live… for now."

Had it been anyone else in the world, I would have thought they were just being dramatic, that they didn't really mean they'd kill another human being just for touching me. But this was Roman Winterbourne, a man who clearly had the money and power to do whatever he wanted. I truly believed he was capable of anything, even murder.

He released the silk tie. Even though it had never really tightened around my neck, I still took a deep breath of relief. Unfortunately, my relief was short-lived.

The flat of his palm skimmed over my stomach to grip the edge of my bodice. His other arm circled around me to grip the other edge. In one swift motion, he ripped the rest of the dress open, sending the remaining buttons silently falling onto the thick carpet. He wrenched the torn garment over my shoulders and off my body.

I staggered away from him, wrapping my arms across my chest and middle.

Turning, I stared at him in horror as I pressed my back to the wall.

He reached for his belt buckle. "Get on the bed."