Page 38 of Doxed
“Die For Me” by Chase Atlantic plays on the ride to the airport. I have to do something, neither of us are saying anything and for once, I don't enjoy the silence.
God, I can't even believe how things have changed. When I first met her, I couldn’t stand the sight of her, and her sweet, melodic voice annoyed the fuck out of me. But now, I almost lost my breath with relief when I saw her at the auction house.
It was easy to get in, of course. They invited me. But I couldn't exactly walk her through the front door when we left.
I timed it all perfectly. We snuck out while everyone was at the auction. They brought her all the way to Virginia, to some giant mansion where a bunch of disgusting, rich pieces of shits are arriving in suits and ball gowns to buy women.
I did that to her.
“Where are we?” she whispers, surveying our surroundings.
“Virginia. We’re about to be at a private airport and we'll fly back to Washington.”
I park my rental car on the tarmac and get out, Briar following me. As I round the front of the car, I finally notice that Briar is only in lingerie and without shoes.
“Shit,” I hiss, pulling my shirt over my head and shoving it down over hers.
She puts her arms through and bands them tightly around her body, her big eyes looking everywhere but at me, and it makes me hate myself all the more.
Before she can fight me, I pick her up and walk toward the plane. She squeals as her knees bend over my arm and I cradle her to my chest. “Put me down,” she gasps.
“No.” I keep walking forward, holding her tighter as she tries to jump down. “You don’t have any shoes on and I don't want you to walk.”
Finally, her head snaps around to look at me, her eyes narrowing into slits. “Now you care about me? Not having shoes is the least horrible thing I’ve been through this week.”
“I know, Briar. I’m sorry.” I can't look at her.
“No,” her voice breaks, and it stops me in my tracks. I glance down at the woman huddled against my bare chest. Tears stream down her pale cheeks from her hollow, deep green eyes. “You don’t know.”
“I’ll make it up to you, I promise.” I plead.
“I don't know if that’s possible.” She looks away from me and wipes the tears from her cheeks.
I’m no better than the people buying trafficked women at the mansion right now. I'm no better than the billionaires I sold Briar too—the same ones that raided her club and kidnapped all the girls working there.
I carry her up the steps and onto the private jet.
The flight attendant greets us and I sit on the couch, keeping Briar in my lap, but as soon as the woman mentions the bedroom at the back of the plane, Briar makes a beeline for it.
Pushing off of my lap forcefully and only turning around to tell me not to join her.
The lock to the room clicks a second after Briar’s closed the door and I slump onto the couch, feeling defeated. I have no idea how I'm going to make this up to her, but I know that I have to. I don't want to lose her again.
Briar stayed in the room for the entire five-hour flight. After we’ve landed and parked on the tarmac, I knock on the door.
She opens it, still wearing my shirt, and pushes past me towards the exit. I try to pick her up again at the door, but the look she gives me tells me she will deck me if I carry her again, so I let her walk.
We get into my Porsche and I speed out of the private terminal.
“Are you hungry?” I ask, desperate to fill the silence that has enveloped us yet again. I'm tired of the silence. I want Briar to fill every space in my life with herself. With her bright smile, her warm laugh, her sexy voice. I never want to listen to anything but her again.
“Yes,” she says quietly.
That’s all I needed to hear. I make a sharp turn and head for the restaurant.
When I park the car in the parking lot, I reach behind my seat and pull a fresh, black tee shirt from a bag that I keep in here for emergencies and I look over at Briar. Her eyes are wide as she stares at the building.
“Your favorite, right? What do you order?” I ask.
“How did you know?” Her beautiful green eyes switch to me and I almost lose myself in them.
“Uhh.” I pause and look down at the gearshift.
Her body falls back into the seat and she sighs. “Because you stalked me.”
“Kind of,” I admit. “There was a bag from here in your trash and when I went through your financials, I noticed you ate here a lot.”
She shakes her head, her lips pursed. “I can’t believe you. I'm still a prisoner here, just like when I was in that cage.”
“No,” I rush, taking her hand in mine, and when it trembles, I hold it tighter. “All of that was in the past. No more surveillance, no more stalking. You have privacy now.”
“Whatever.” She refuses to look at me as she gives me her order.