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I ignore Tobias as he continues to scowl in my periphery and grab the tray, my heart pounding beneath tightening ribs as I stalk for the hall leading to the sliding door. The glass is open an inch, letting me hear the soft murmur of Cole and his accomplice.
I can’t make out the conversation, only the hushed tone.
There’s nothing sinister in the voices. If anything, it’s more tinged with conspiracy. Secretive and low.
I suck in a deep breath and square my shoulders as I use the toe of my shoe to slide the door wide. The tap of my heels is almost deafening against the tile. The beat of my heart is even louder.
The men stop talking on my approach, the descending silence thick and uncomfortable. Maybe I should’ve waited for Luther to finish in the bathroom. If these strangers don’t know the rules—if they’re unaware I’m not to be touched—I could be standing before a viper pit.
But it’s too late to back out now.
I won’t scamper away and trigger any sort of predatory chase.
Luther’s son meets my gaze, his dark eyes scrutinizing. I quickly lower my focus, not wanting u
I’m surprised when he grasps the offer gently, his large fingers smoothly wrapping around the rim of the glass. That doesn’t mean I don’t picture the same grip wrapping around a woman’s neck, the effortless glide becoming tight. Squeezing. Choking.
How many times has he tortured the defenseless?
I back away and hold the second glass out to Cole. Just like the other man, his intent toward my offering is slow and calm. There’s no rough grab or harsh snatch. He reaches out, preparing to take the scotch, then doesn’t grasp the glass. His hand only hovers close without contact.
“Aren’t you going to introduce yourself?” His tone holds the same arrogant authority as his father. The same superior self-worth I’ve come to despise.
I swallow over my hatred and chant a mental warning to remain civil.
“I’m Cole,” he continues. “Luther’s son.”
I’m sure he knows I’m well aware of who he is and what he’s capable of. This friendly introduction is merely a taunt.
I raise my gaze, answering him with a spiteful look. It’s impossible to play nice, especially when I’ve conditioned myself to be vicious to all men.
“Have we met?” He rakes his gaze over me, from head to toe and back again. “I’m sure I’ve seen you before.”
I don’t know what he’s angling for—familiarity? Kindness? Or worse, my vulnerability?
“You’re mistaken.” I shove the glass into his hand and backtrack. I’m ready to turn on my heel and flee inside when the glass door slides open and Luther ruins my chance of escape.
“Ahh, there she is.” He strides toward me, sickening pride ebbing off him in waves before he wraps his arm around my waist, awakening my bruises as he drags me into his side. I flow with the movement, not giving him an opportunity to scold me.
“I see you’ve already met my pretty Pe
“I can see why.” Cole continues to eye me, the visual sweep a violation all on its own. “Is there a reason why I feel like we’ve already met?”
Luther pauses for a moment, glancing between me and his son. “I don’t know. Maybe you’ve seen her on the television. Pe
“Pe
Despite knowing I’m not to be touched by anyone but Luther, my unease is high over my status as the center of attention. My position is precarious. Even though these men might not have their way with me, it doesn’t mean Luther can’t demand I put on a deplorable performance.
It wouldn’t be a first.
“Is something wrong?” Luther eyes Cole and grabs the remaining glass of scotch from the tray before taking a seat. “Have you two met before?”
“No.” Cole’s interest evaporates. “She must have a familiar face. That’s all.”
“I’m not sure about her face, but she has a truly unforgettable mouth.” Luther laughs. “Don’t you, baby girl?”
Humiliation burns holes in my chest as I smile and silently wish I had the power to slaughter them all. I picture myself grabbing Luther’s glass, smashing it against the coffee table, and stabbing the jagged remains into his neck.
I could do it, too.
I could kill him. I would kill him. If only I wasn’t scared of whatever new hell I’d be flung into when someone else claimed me as their possession.
I take a backward step, distancing myself from temptation.
“Where are you going?” He pats his lap. “Come here.”
My stomach twists.
I need to check on Lilly. I need these men to find another focus.
But I also need to remember I have no choice.
I reluctantly sulk forward, taking note of the strangers who track my movements.
“Come on.” Luther lashes out, grabbing my wrist to yank me down to him. “There’s no need to be shy.”
I stumble into his lap, my back ramrod as his calloused palm lands on my thigh to hold me in place. It’s a familiar scene—my ass against his crotch, his hand a tormenting reminder against my skin, his audience held captive.
He drags the material of my dress higher and higher with the slide of his palm toward the apex of my thighs.
My skin shudders with an outbreak of goosebumps as I brace myself for violation. Soon I’ll have to fight. To scream and kick and thrash because that’s all part of the performance.
As the seconds tick by to my opening act, I focus along the oceanic horizon. I try to make the picturesque scenery soothe me. But the hard stare of Cole’s companion from my periphery is a threat I can’t ignore.
He’s glowering at me, his nostrils flaring.
He wants me. I can see it in his eyes—the determination. The severity.
He barely blinks as he holds my gaze, not lowering his attention to the thigh Luther continues to expose.
Perhaps it’s because his lust is threadbare. Is he dying for a taste or a touch?
“I don’t mean to cock block,” he drawls, “but is that food still on the way?”
I stiffen, confused.
“I’m starving.” He turns his attention to Cole. “And you haven’t even eaten today.”
Luther’s hand pauses on my thigh. The filthy sense of approaching doom dissipates. I’m just not sure if I’m receiving a reprieve or merely being toyed with.
“Yes. Food.” Luther slaps my leg, the sting rushing through me as he shoves me from his lap. “We need to feed our guests.”
I stagger to my feet, baffled. The gift of my degradation has never been rejected before. My humiliation has always been a coveted prize.
I’m so completely caught off guard I have to force myself to snap out of the bewilderment and hustle to the door to slip inside.
But I don’t leave. I remain close to the glass, my heart in my throat as I listen to the disjointed conversation filtering through the barrier.
Their words are hard to hear over the rush of blood in my ears. There are references to a personal harem and I’m sure it’s Cole’s associate who a
So why did he reject the full dose of my humiliation?
I nudge the door wider, hoping for clearer insight, only to panic at the soft footfalls approaching from behind me. I swing around, praying I don’t get caught snooping for a third time when Abigail creeps into the hall.