King of Masters by Brynn Ford

CHAPTER 16

Stella

NEVER LET THEM take you to a second location.

Never,ever let them take you to a second location.

I let him take me to a second location on-board his private aircraft, and a third when I got into the car with him.

I feel so stupid.

The car curves around the gravel driveaway, rumbling over pebbles as it slows to a stop at the bottom of a set of beige steps. They lead up to the main entrance of a stone castle—a massive, sprawling castle.

I’ve been cataloguing my surroundings carefully, though there were too many twists and turns through the Ireland countryside for me to easily track my way back to the airstrip. Even if I could track it, it took more than an hour to drive from there to here—too far to make my way back on foot if I could escape.

I could still easily follow the nearly mile-long driveway back to the secured gate we drove in through. The gate and surrounding fence looked sturdy, but I think I could climb it.

Murphy turns sideways to look at me. He sits beside me on the bench seat in the back of the car, blocking my view of the staircase. He has the audacity to grin at me. “Welcome home.”

I want to spit in his face. “This isn’t my home.”

“It really doesn’t have to be this way.”

“You’ve made it this way,” I hiss.

“Would you rather I’d told you sooner?”

I burn a hole through him with my eyes. “I wish I’d never met you.”

A lump rises in my throat at the words that feel so wrong to say to the man I’ve been falling for over the last seven months. I forcefully swallow it down.

He takes in a sharp breath through his nose and clenches his hand into a fist as he lifts his arm to rest it along the back of the seat. “You’re angry with me…I understand that. But let me warn you, my patience for your temper only extends so far.”

I turn to face him, mimicking his position by propping my elbow on the back of the seat and leaning my head against my hand. “Gosh, I’m so sorry you don’t have a greater tolerance for my temper. If you can’t take it, perhaps you should send me the fuck home.”

He smiles and I curse my wicked hormones for training my body to feel that the twist of his kissable lips should turn me on. I fucking hate him….and I still feel what I felt for him before. There’s a raging war of incomprehensible emotion within me.

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” he says. “We’re home, and you’re not leaving. Not without me and not until I can trust you.”

“Oh, sweetie, you’ll never trust me. I’ll make sure of it.”

“You’re sexy when you’re angry, did you know that?” He squints at me with a scrutinizing gaze. “The way you furrow your eyebrows…” He opens his fist and reaches out to snatch my wrist. I lift my head away from that hand with a snap just before he tugs, dragging me across the seat. “You do that and bite your lip just before you come.”

My thumping heart stills me as he pulls me close, hip to hip, wrapping his arm around my shoulders. I can’t take my eyes off him as I wrangle my emotions into a corral of control. I was in love with him hours ago…I was falling hard. My brain is fighting to comprehend everything he’s told me that has shattered the illusion so effectively. He’s a criminal, a liar, a vile monster who hurts women.

So why does my stomach still flutter?

I just want it to stop…I want to stop falling.

My only defense mechanism is my words.

“You know what you do just before you come?” I pause a beat to gain his intrigue and he looks at me warily. “I don’t have a fucking clue. I don’t care enough about you to pay attention.”

He grins, but I saw the flinch right before his lips curved. “Oh, you beautiful thing. Keep it up. You’re just asking me to put you in your place.” I try to pull away from him, but his arm tightens around my shoulders and he shifts his ass closer, pressing his thigh against mine. “When I was thirteen, my father’s talent slave, Esmerelda, spoke out of turn at a family event. Do you know what he did to her?”

I turn my head away, but he reaches around me with his free hand and grabs my chin, pinching me, forcing my head toward him. “He cut off her little toe. It wasn’t a clean cut. He sawed it off with a serrated kitchen knife. Almost took the next toe, too.”

I feel my eyes pop wide and I breathe heavily through my nose, trying to maintain some semblance of calm composure. I don’t want him to know my fear. “Why are you telling me this? Would you cut off my toe? Am I meant to be your slave? I thought you wanted to give me a comfortable life.”

He presses his forehead to mine, making it impossible to look anywhere but at him. “I wouldn’t so much as cut a single strand of your hair. I give more than a shit about you. If I’d wanted to treat you like a slave, you’d have been my slave months ago. I’m telling you about my family so you’ll understand how little your snarky tone will be tolerated. You have no idea what I’ve had to do to make this happen, to make you my soon-to-be wife. They’re not all happy you’re here.”

“Then we’ll have that in common.”

His hand slides from my chin to grip me by the throat. “Not forever. You’ll see in time how good I can make your life. You’ll see how much I want to make you happy.” He lifts his forehead from mine but holds me with his gaze, his eyes softening as he watches me for long seconds. His throat bobs as he swallows, then he leans forward and softly presses his lips to mine.

He’s so gentle that it stuns me, and I freeze in his hold.

God, he’s everything.

No, he’s nothing.

Why did I ever let myself start to fall for him?

This is torture!

He pulls away all at once, releasing me, opening his door, and stepping out of the car. He holds out his hand for me to take. “Come. We’ll meet my family and then I’ll show you to our room.”

I scoff and turn away, opening the door on my side of the car and getting out without his deceptive chivalry. I stomp around the back of the car and smack his hand away as he tries to grab mine. I march up the steps toward the front door with my arms tight across my chest. I stop and wait for him at the landing, turning to watch him walk up the steps after me.

I don’t understand how my heart can still see him the way I did only hours before…how it can still beat with hope for a future that’s impossible now.

It should be a fairytale—the Irish stranger I met whisked me away to his castle home in Ireland—but he’s turned it into a nightmare.

His tattooed forearms flex as he clenches his fists. My eyes are drawn to the rings he wears on both hands. It makes me think of how the metal felt on my cheeks when he held my face in his hands and kissed me. His sleeves rolled up to his elbows make him look so effortlessly stylish. His sway through his perfectly tailored waistcoat and slacks still makes my stomach clench.

How could I fall for his lies, his deception?

Cora was right…

He was always a monster, and I couldn’t see it. I failed to see it because I let my guard down. I let him in. I let him do this to me. I let him seduce me, make me fall for him. I let him take me and there’s nothing I can do about it now.

All I can do is learn and wait for an opportunity.

I drop my hands to my sides as he approaches and I pull my shoulders back, lifting my chin. I’m not letting him win this. I’m not giving him anymore of my anger—he likes it too damn much. He gets off on it.

He smiles as he stops in front of me. “Ready?”

I don’t speak. I don’t nod. I simply turn my eyes from him to the door and wait for him to open it. He steps forward and swings it wide to reveal a grand foyer, but I can’t take in the beauty of the structure. All I can focus on is the throng of people gathered there, standing, watching…waiting.

As a reflex, I look at Murphy—a natural instinct to look for direction in an unfamiliar situation—but I force myself to look away from him just as quickly. He reaches behind me, splaying his hand across the small of my back, and leads me inside. My skin prickles at his possessive touch.

“Everyone, this is Stella. Stella, meet your new family.”

Jesus Christ.

My heart drops into my stomach, sending a tsunami of nausea and unease right through me. Silence greets us all, stretching across several uncomfortable beats.

Then, a familiar face attached to a man with a tall frame lifts his arms in the air and shouts, “Sis! Welcome home!” The joviality in his tone is jarring against the eerie feeling inside my soul. “Remember me?” He points to himself.

I recognize him as one of Murphy’s brothers, Cormac.

A petite blonde woman standing beside him smacks him in the chest. “How much did you drink? Are you wankered already?”

A woman with long, straight, light-orange hair crosses the tile floor, her high heels clicking as she moves toward us. She stops right in front of me, and I’m tempted to take a step back, but I know better than to show that kind of weakness to anyone. And the way Murphy pushes forward against my back makes me feel like he’s intentionally preventing me from backing away from this woman.

I quickly guess that this must be his cousin, Cordelia. He’s told me quite a bit about her.

She inclines her head as she regards me. “Stella, welcome. I’m—”

“Delia,” I cut her off intentionally. “I know who you are.”

I’m not stupid. I know how to play this power game. I sense Murphy’s eyes on me, and I glance from the corner of mine, detecting a smirk playing across his lips. I want to smack him to wipe the smugness from his face. I’m not playing this game to entertain him—he forced me into this, and I have no choice but to play.

Cordelia takes in a breath as she blinks, straightening her posture. “We’ve been looking forward to your arrival.”

“Oh?” I tilt my head. “So, you’re all in on the kidnapping, then?”

No one bats an eye.

Right…they traffic women for a living. What do they care?

Another woman, much older, with shoulder-length black hair and brown eyes glides forward, a man at her side who looks like a much older version of Murphy. As they step forward, Cordelia steps back and I feel relief. She sets off warning bells that give me goosebumps.

The woman with black hair immediately steps into my space and I want to step back, but again, Murphy doesn’t allow it. She wraps her arms around me and squeezes me in a hug that feels deceptively friendly. She pulls back to look at me, but her hands stay on my shoulders. “Stella, I’m so glad to finally meet you. I’m Murphy’s mother, Bridget.” She shakes her head, then looks at the man beside her. “My love, she reminds me of Esmerelda. Doesn’t she look like Esmerelda?”

Murphy’s hand slips around my side, his fingers curling and tightening to grip my waist, tugging me harshly against his side. His mother lets go of me and steps back, moving beside her husband.

“She does,” the older gentleman murmurs, presumably Murphy’s father. “Boyd.” He doesn’t offer me his hand, just gives me a curt nod, his eyes wandering my form.

The look is unsettling, and I find myself welcoming Murphy’s possessive grip. I actually step closer to him and I hate myself for it.

“Quick introductions,” Murphy begins. “Boyd and Bridget, my parents. You’ve met Cordelia there. Cormac you know, and that’s his wife, Tally.” The petite blonde smiles and waves at me—far too friendly for this scene. “Colin and Moira are Cordelia’s parents, and her sister Saoirse. Egan and his wife, Nessa—they don’t live here; they were just eager to meet you.” I can’t keep up with these names, all these strangers. “And there’s Declan, you remember.”

I remember his brother Declan. I thought he seemed like a nice guy, but apparently, I was wrong about everything.

Fucking monsters, all of them.

“Where’s Fiona?” Murphy asks and I turn my head to look at him.

“Locked in her room with Bailey,” Declan says. “I didn’t think we needed to overwhelm Stella any more than necessary for one day.”

“Who is Fiona?”

I know Bailey is Murphy’s dog, but I thought he only had one. He’s never said anything about a dog named Fiona.

“That’s not your decision to make, brother. I asked for everyone to be present to greet Stella.”

Declan shrugs. “You left me in charge of her while you were gone, so it was entirely my decision to make at the time. Would you rather leave her with Cormac next time? Cordelia, perhaps?”

Cordelia opens her mouth, but Murphy snaps at her, his fingers incidentally digging too hard into my side. “Shut it. You must be out of your mind if you think I’d ever let you have her.”

“My love,” Bridget speaks softly to Murphy, “let’s leave this for now and receive Stella properly in the dining room. I’m sure she’s hungry.”

“I’m not.”

“No,” Murphy replies, equally soft with his mother. I take note of that and lock it away for future reference. “She’s quite upset with the circumstances and will need some time to adjust before joining the family. We’ll receive dinner in my room tonight.”

“Come now.” Boyd claps his son on the shoulder and is met with a scowl from Murphy. “She’ll be fine. She can sit next to your mother…let the ladies get to know each other.”

“No.” When Murphy speaks to his father, he’s sharp and abrupt—another note to lock away. “If you’ll excuse us.”

He walks and moves me with him, his family parting for us to pass beneath a grand, crystalline chandelier as he turns us toward a massive hallway. He maintains his grip on my side as he moves us forward, but his fingers loosen after we’ve passed two doors. They slide along my lower back and lift away just long enough for him to snatch my hand in his instead.

My fingers squeeze around his palm, my brain still crisscrossing synapses that learned to love him while I come to grips with how much I need to hate him right now. In any case, meeting his odd family made me feel uneasy, and I feel a swell of instinct that he’s a safer bet than the rest of them. The instinct drives me to hold fast to his hand.

At the end of the hallway, he pulls open a door and leads me through it, but it’s not a room. The door swings shut behind us, locking us inside a narrow space with nothing more than a single spiral staircase going up.

He tugs on my hand, pushing me toward the staircase. “Up.”

“Where does this go?”

“Upstairs.”

My lips pucker in annoyance as my head tilts to the side. “No shit. But what’s upstairs? Where are you taking me?”

“To our bedroom.”

I cross my arms and stare at him, unwilling to move.

“Would you rather go back and spend time with my family?”

I consider, but my choice is quick. I drop my arms with a huff and start up the narrow steps. He follows, locking me in, leaving me no way to go but up. After two flights, at the top of the staircase is another door, so I open it, but he’s quickly behind me.

We step out into a hallway that looks much the same as the hallway on the first floor, except this level is carpeted rather than tiled. I pause, not sure where to go from here, but then he grabs my hand and tugs me along, bringing us to one of the doors across from the secret stairwell.

He types in a passcode and scans his thumbprint to unlock it. I gape at him for the over-the-top security measures.

Is it because he means to keep me trapped in here?

My heart is pounding.

He pops open the door and I step back, yanking my hand from his grip. I nearly stumble for the force with which I have to pull, but he doesn’t come after me. He stops, turns, and waits.

“This is our bedroom,” he says calmly. “This is a safe space for you.”

I take another step back. “How the fuck is it a safe space for me with you in it?”

“It’s secure, for one. No one else in the home will have access to you here. In any case, I hardly spend any time here except for sleeping. So, if you want time to yourself during the day, you’ll have it here.” He glances inside. “I like the purple, but we can have it redecorated any way you like.”

I shake my head at him, crossing my arms protectively across my body.

He sighs, leaning against the doorframe and mirroring me with crossed arms. “Would you rather have time to explore the grounds? See all the ways in which you can’t escape? I promise you, Stella, any escape attempt you could dream up, I’ve already planned for. There are extra security measures in place in the estate and on the grounds. The sooner you accept your fate, the sooner we work on building mutual trust.”

“Mutual trust? Mutual fucking trust? Are you kidding me? Do you think I could ever trust you again?”

“You will trust me again. I know it will take time, but how long is up to you. I have faith that you’ll come around.”

“Come around to what? To being complicit in your heinous crimes against humanity? To participate in it?”

“Eventually. You’ll be a member of the board and will have a say on some matters. You’ll have plenty of time to adjust before then. Until that time, all I expect of you is to be there for me when I need you.”

I toss up my hands with a laugh and let them slap against my sides as they fall. I turn, taking a few paces away before marching toward him with determination. “How about when I need you? Will you be there for me?”

“Of course, I will,” he says as if it’s an obvious statement.

I step closer, pressing into his personal space. He drops his arms, pushing off the doorframe to straighten to his full height. He towers above me, looking down at me.

“I’m telling you now that I need you to take me back home. Take me home and fucking forget about me. I want to forget about you.”

“You would never be able to forget about me.” He takes advantage of my proximity, snatching me by both shoulders and spinning me into the room. He releases me, whips back around, slams the door, and locks it.

“Is the unearned self-confidence a direct consequence of your trade or are you just generally an asshole?”

He gives me a small smile as he turns to face me again. “You knew I was generally an asshole before we started talking on the phone.”

“Ah, okay. So, it’s just you, then. You’re just a piece of shit, with or without the family business.”

His jaw ticks. “I can handle you being angry at me. But I’m not going to tolerate you insulting me again.”

I lean forward and slow my words to emphasize every one of them. “You’re a piece of shit, Murphy. A rotten, lying, worthless sack of shit, and I feel sick that I ever wanted—”

He rushes me, his hand clamping around my throat. I reach for his wrist, but he holds firm as he pushes me back. My knees hit the mattress of the four-post bed and I fall back onto it. He bends over me, settling his weight to pin me down as his fingers clamp and squeeze the sides of my throat.

My lips part as I try to take in a decent breath, but I can’t because he’s pinching my airway.

Oh, God.

He’s going to kill me!

“You’re being ungrateful and frankly, your behavior is edging toward trashy. The O’Sheas are not trashy, sweetheart.” His fingers release, though his hand hovers over my neck as I gasp in a deep breath. “I expect better from you. It’s easier for both of us if you learn your place, straighten up, and act right, but if I need to force your hand, if I need to break you like a goddamn slave, make no mistake, Stella, I will.”

I lift my knee as hard as I can and jam it into his fucking ballsack.

Prick.

He grunts, “Fuck,” then rolls slightly to the side.

I slap him, then grab his shoulders and shove him off me. I jump to my feet and spin, scanning the ridiculously oversized purple and gold room. I spot an open door in the far corner.

A bathroom.

I run for it. The moment I’m inside, I slam the door shut and slap my palm against the wood to hold it in place. When I glance down at the knob, I’m shocked to see it has a lock on it. It’s just a simple lock for the knob—nothing strong enough to hold if he really wanted to break the door down—but it’s an extra barrier, nonetheless. I turn it and let my hand drop from the door, taking a step back and letting out a heavy breath.

I start pulling open the drawers of the double-sink vanity, hoping to find something to defend myself with, but the first drawer is empty…and the second…and the third.

All the drawers are empty.

I spin, finding a small cabinet behind me beside the large, glass-enclosed walk-in shower. I pull open the top and bottom doors, but again, they’re empty.

The only thing in this room that isn’t attached to the damn wall is toilet paper. There aren’t even shampoo or soap bottles in the shower.

“What the fuck?”

Then his voice comes muffled through the door. “Did you think I’d leave anything in there for you to hurt me with? As if I’d let you have so much as a goddamn curling iron right now. You’ll have to earn privileges.”

“There isn’t even any soap,” I shout louder than I have to for him to hear me, feeling indignant and bold and biting with sarcasm. “How will I keep myself clean for you to use, master?”

He chuckles and it rumbles through me as a dark promise. “Keeping you clean will be my responsibility until you’ve proven you’re trustworthy.”

“Go fuck yourself.”

“You, too,” he says, his tone as malice-filled as mine.

There’s a single thump against the door that makes me jump…just one loud thump that makes me think he punched the door.

But then I’m met with silence, and I wait.

I wait until I hear a door slam shut.

Then I wait more…until I’m certain he must be gone.

Now that he’s not here for me to unleash my fury upon, my anger breaks. Like a melting glacier breaking free from its shelf, there’s an icy rush inside me that washes away the anger and replaces it with sadness and fear.

I start to cry, really truly understanding for the first time that I’m not going home…that a man I was falling for has betrayed me more brutally than I ever could have imagined.

Life as I know it is over, and I’ve never been more afraid in my life.