Page 11

Ten

Ophelia

This can’t really be happening. Can it? There has to be some deeper motive at work. A way to twist this situation that doesn’t end in me wearing that collar and leash. Sebastian places it carefully on the table, out of my reach, turned so I can see the shiny tag.

Ophelia.

Seeing my name is worse than some demeaning word. Those carved letters chill my blood and turn my stomach. He’s planned this. Not just the capture, which had to have taken weeks of surveillance, but this, too. The ways in which he’ll torment me while I’m here.

The Brotherhood. I’ve heard the name spoken but always quietly and always in the context of a business rivalry. Dad and Harrison never let me near the criminal side of the family’s dealings, but I know enough. We deal in information, stealing tech from cutting-edge companies and selling it to whoever pays the most.

If I’d had to guess, I’d have said the Brotherhood was a secretive tech firm with a weird, anachronistic name. But how the hell does that gel with Sebastian’s ramblings about sex slaves and a private army? Maybe he’s insane.

Sebastian strides to the window and stares out. “Ten minutes. Eat up.”

His voice is flat now, but it wasn’t earlier. He enjoyed feeding me. He got off on telling me his crazy story. But as soon as Maggie entered the conversation, all that twisted happiness drained away.

Even now, staring at the leash with my name on it, I can’t fight back the guilty lurch. Something about Maggie, how much freedom she seemed to have, always plucked at my nerves in high school, and I lashed out, targeting her. None of it was her fault, and I’d give absolutely anything to change the way I treated her. When I learned she’d killed herself, the guilt almost destroyed me.

Maybe losing her pushed Sebastian over the edge?

“Eight minutes.”

Sebastian’s clipped words bring me right back into the present. I can’t waste time on regret. Sebastian hates me, with good reason. He might well be insane. I’m locked to a goddamn chair in his apartment, and this might be the only chance I get to eat today. However sick it makes me feel, I have to eat while I can.

I attack the food with wooden efficiency. A chocolate pastry. Some fruit. I’d kill for a coffee, but the jug is out of reach. I’ll die before I ask Sebastian to bring it to me, so I make do with the orange juice closer to hand.

As I eat, the empty, shaky feeling diminishes. I have to be smart. I grew up around dangerous men. I can handle Sebastian Grange, even if he’s all grown up and fucking terrifying.

He doesn’t move from his spot at the window, and he doesn’t look at me. I try to picture him as I remember him. Long hair, pasty skin, baggy clothes. And when my brother beat the living shit out of him for confronting me, he hardly fought back at all. His blood dripped onto the concrete from his busted nose, and I grabbed my brother’s arm. “He’s had enough.”

“No, he fucking hasn’t.”

Then a savage kick to the ribs. It was the last time I saw him. What has he been doing for the last ten years?

They’ve all suffered.

His words rush back. What did he mean by that? I search for memories of my high school friends. The ones who used to torment Maggie right alongside me—though I was always the ringleader. Were any of them reported missing? Has he been picking them off one by one?

Sebastian moves. I think he’s going to come close, and my body locks up, hand clutching a piece of strawberry. I watch his back as he disappears into the bedroom. Maybe I can shuffle the chair a bit. Is there anything I can use as a weapon? Even something makeshift, like a jail shiv?

Jail.

It’s a lightning strike, scorching a name into my brain. Cecilia Faulkner, the girl who helped me force Maggie’s head into the toilet, has been in jail for two years. She worked as an investment banker and got caught stealing millions from a pension fund. If I remember the scandal right, she’s serving fifteen years.

They’ve all suffered.

Sebastian appears from the bedroom with a pair of insanely high platforms. He holds them up for inspection. “You’ll wear these. I’d prefer stilettos, but they make far too good of a weapon. We’ll switch once you’re my good little pet.”

Pet. That word again. Coupled with the leash, the little word grows heavy. But my mind is still snagged on Cecilia. I shouldn’t antagonize Sebastian, but I have to know.

“Cecilia Faulkner. She’s in jail. Was that—”

“She was so easy to set up. If she manages to keep her nose clean in jail, she’ll only serve ten years. Free by thirty-two. And of course, they sent her to one of those lovely, open prisons with gardening classes and a lacrosse team. More an extended holiday than anything else. Not bad for taking a life. Don’t you agree?”

I can’t think of a single thing to say. He set her up. She lost her freedom because of him. I’m clinging to the idea that he can’t do what he’s threatening to me, but he already fucking has, just in a different way. If only he’d used that method on me. I’m sure my dad could have lined the right pockets and gotten me out.

Which is why he didn’t use that method on you.

Of course. I have to remember that Sebastian is smart. Harrison used to laugh because he had a private math tutor—he was too advanced for the class, and my dumbass brother thought it made him a nerd. And I heard somewhere he went to CalTech. If he’s been planning this revenge for ten years, he’ll have planned it well.

Shit.

Shit, shit, shit.

The composure I’ve been clinging to wobbles, and I close my eyes, willing it back. I can do this. I’m strong. He won’t break me with a stupid outfit and a ridiculous collar. He can march me around naked if he wants. I’ll still be Ophelia Calder.

Why did I think that? Once that image brands itself into my brain, there’s no scrubbing it out.

“Ophelia.” Sebastian’s sharp voice pulls my scattered thoughts back together. “Look at me.” I do, really studying him as he unbuckles the strap on the platform. His long fingers make deft work of the process.

Then he spins my chair away from the table, sinks to one knee beside me, takes hold of my foot, and places it into the shoe .

I don’t know what I’d been expecting, but this wasn’t it. There’s something so intimate about the act that I freeze as he cinches the strap around my ankle, lifting the cuff to get it in the right place. His fingers are gentler than they should be, given where I am.

The shoes are gaudy monstrosities with a see-through PVC platform heel and glittery silver straps, but he fastens them with care, checking the strap sits snug to my skin. Once the first is secure, he moves to the second, and my paralysis breaks. “I’ll never be able to walk in these things.”

Why, of all the things happening to me, did I choose that to complain about? Maybe because it’s a small problem. Something I can see the beginning and end of.

“You’ll learn. We’re not going far, but people here are very curious about you. I want to show you off. Ophelia Calder, at the end of my leash.”

Amusement and satisfaction vibrate through every word, and it sends a rush of heat through my chest, up to my cheeks. Showing me off. As if I’m a prized possession.

Sebastian finishes with the second shoe and pulls back to look at me. His pupils are still large, blotting out the vivid blue of his eyes. He’s excited. Or something worse. He runs the tip of his finger over my flaming cheek with a smile.

“Does that embarrass you? I wonder what your father and brother will think once word gets back to them. I’m sure there are some little moles in here that will give them every detail. Maybe even a photo.”

God. I hadn’t even thought of this in those terms. My father and brother have always guarded me like a bone china figurine, erupting if I dared show too much leg or cleavage. I have to be beautiful but demure. After a while, it became the way I felt comfortable .

Seeing me paraded about like this…

I shake my head. “It’ll kill them.”

I don’t even mean to say it out loud, but Sebastian’s smile grows. “Fabulous. Let’s get going.”

He stands, moving behind my chair to detach the remaining cuff from the seat. It still dangles from my wrist, and before I get the chance to stretch my shoulders, he’s gripped my right hand, pulling both behind my back. “No, please. I’ll—”

He ignores me, snapping the cuffs into place. Fuck. Why didn’t I realize he was going to do that? Why didn’t I try to stop him? I’m slow, dopey from the shock and stress. I need to be sharper. Not that I could have fought him off, but I should have tried. He can’t start to see me as easy prey.

The cuffs press into the small of my back, forcing me to arch, and the move shoves my tits forward. The damn bra pumps them up so far you’d swear I have huge implants. A sharp breath from Sebastian tells me he’s noticed exactly what the position is doing, and the next second, he’s in front of me, staring down with a look I can’t define.

His brows crease, and he examines me with a critical eye, as if I’m a car he’s thinking about buying. Then he reaches down and adjusts my top. He tugs it down even lower, so the lacy top of the bra shows. Somehow, that little strip of fabric makes the outfit ten times skankier. “Better. Don’t you think?”

My mouth comes back to life. How dare he? “No! It’s disgusting. What are you trying to prove with this? Do you think it makes you a scary, tough guy? It doesn’t. It’s pathetic.”

“And when word gets back to Daddy, he’ll hunt me down and string me up by my balls?” He offers the suggestion with a knowing eyebrow raised. “Or slice me into tiny pieces and mail me to my father? Not that he’d give a shit. ”

He doesn’t sound the tiniest bit concerned. Is it all an act? He knows what my family is capable of. His dad used to be our lawyer.

“Only if my brother doesn’t get hold of you first.”

I feel dirty even saying it. My father can be savage as all hell, but at least he follows his own twisted code of ethics. My brother, though? He’s something else. Sometimes, I think even Dad is scared of him. Sure, Harrison would kill Sebastian for what he’s doing to me. But then he might just kill me too, if he thought he could get away with it.

The last time a man touched me and he found out, it got very messy very fast. I’d shamed the family. I was damaged goods. Even if I make it out of wherever this is alive, will I be safe from Harrison?

Don’t think about that now. The man in front of me is a big enough threat.

Sebastian’s mouth is a thin line. “Oh, if your brother comes looking for you, I’ll be ready. Don’t you worry about that, pet. “Now—” He holds up the collar. “—walkies.”

“Fuck you.” It’s out before I can consider whether it’s a good idea or not. The heat is back, rushing up my neck, and knowing he’ll see the blush makes it so much worse. “I’m not wearing that stupid goddamn thing.”

“Not your decision.” He smiles, and I catch a hint of teeth.

“I’m not—”

He grabs my hair. He doesn’t wrench it, but his grip is iron-hard as I try to twist away. It tugs on my scalp, and he tuts. “Don’t. It’ll ruin your beautiful hair.”

“I don’t care! Fuck—”

He wraps the collar around my throat. The stiff, unyielding leather sits high, forcing my neck straight. I freeze as he tugs the buckle tight. He could strangle me. Keep squeezing until the life leaves me for good. He could, but instead, he fusses with the collar, adjusting it so the tag dangles right at the front. I can just see it, though I can’t look all the way down.

“This is a training collar. It’s designed to be uncomfortable. Once you learn to behave, I’ll get you something easier to wear. In a few weeks, maybe.”

A few weeks? No. I won’t be here in a few weeks. I won’t even be here in a few days. I swallow, and the leather presses hard against my throat. “It’s too tight.”

My voice sounds quavery and scared. The crushing pressure of the leather, the sensation of being trapped, saps the fight from me again.

“It’s perfect.” He unfastens my ankles. I could kick him, but just what in the hell would that achieve? Am I planning on running away? The high platforms are so tightly strapped to my feet that I couldn’t remove them with my bound hands. I’d break an ankle in five seconds flat. I’m not even sure how I’ll get to my feet.

But I needn’t have worried. Sebastian wraps his fingers under my arms and lifts me gently up. I wobble in the shoes, all the scarier since my hands are behind my back, but he keeps a steadying hand on me.

“I won’t let you fall.” He gathers the leash in the hand not keeping me from face-planting and gives me a gentle tug.

The collar at my neck tightens against my throat, and I gasp against the pressure. The degree of control he has over me is sinking in moment by moment. It happened so fast. I only arrived here yesterday.

He relaxes the leash but doesn’t let it drop. “Come on. Walk. You’ve worn high heels before.”

“Not this high.” With the heels, I’m still a few inches shorter than him, but it’s easier to look him in the eye. I straighten my spine. Maybe the heels aren’t the worst thing in the world. He walks, and I totter next to him.

He leads me to the door at the far side of the room, which must lead out of the apartment. Next to the door is a shoe rack lined with pairs of immaculate designer shoes and a floor-length mirror. I don’t try to hide my amusement.

“You like to look perfect, don’t you? Is this to make sure you don’t leave home with a hair out of place?”

He doesn’t answer until we reach the mirror, then turns me to face it. “No. I added this especially for you. Take a good look at yourself before we leave.”

I do. God, I do.

The heels force me to stand with my ass and tits pushed out just to balance. With my hands behind my back, it looks like I’m thrusting them forward. Begging for them to be touched. It’s horrible and fascinating all at once. I’ve never worn anything like this. The sensible suits and dresses I wear aim for elegance, not sexuality.

This outfit is pure filth painted on my curves.

Sebastian’s expression doesn’t waver from his usual predatory amusement, but I can feel a change in the air. His eyes roam my reflection, and his grip tightens on the leash so subtly I’m not sure he knows he’s doing it. It makes me bend my back toward him, and his eyes widen. He glances down to the leash in his hand, then loosens his grip.

He turns away, tugging me toward the door. “It’s a beautiful day out there. I wonder how many people we’ll bump into.”