Beautiful Trouble by B. B. Hamel
Winter
My mom stared out from the window of the van. Black tears streaked her cheeks. She always wore too much eyeliner. I took a few steps forward, but my father caught my wrist.
“Let her go.” He didn’t look down at me. His smile said it all.
“When will she come back?” I knew better than to rip my hand free.
He held on tight. “When she’s ready. I told you, she’s sick and we need to make her better.” His smile grew larger. “It may take years, Spring.”
“Where’s she going? To the hospital?”
“It’s a rehabilitation clinic. When she’s better, she’ll come home. Or perhaps she won’t.”
The van pulled away. My father released my arm and turned to the house.
“What do you mean, she might not come back?” I tried not to cry. It only made him angrier when I cried. Even at ten, I was smart enough to know what kind of man my father was. “She said she’d come home. She said she would.”
“Your mother says a lot of things and very few of them are true.” He pushed open the front door. “She’s an addict, Spring. I suppose you don’t know what that means, but you will one day. Addiction is a disease, and one that can’t ever be cured. I will not have that disease spreading in my house. You’ll understand when you’re older. Now come inside before you embarrass me.”
The van rolled down the driveway.
I turned away and followed my father.
* * *
I woke to a pounding at the door.
Familiar room. It took me a few seconds to understand where I was.
The clock said seven.
“Come in,” I croaked. My voice was still rough, but I felt better—a lot better.
A tall, dark woman walked into the room carrying a dinner tray. Her skin was smooth and flawless, her cheekbones high, her eyes round and deep brown. Her hair was cut close to her scalp. Her limbs were long and lean, and she wore a simple outfit of white slacks and a navy button-down blouse.
She looked at me with disdain as she placed the tray on the coffee table in front of the fireplace.
I knew that look. All my father’s longtime staff looked at me like that.
“My name is Chika.” The woman straightened and folded her hands in front of her as she stared at me.
She was beautiful. It was disconcerting. I sat up, trying to blink away the sleep. Her full lips tugged down deeper as I took down my messy hair and ran my fingers through it. I shouldn’t have slept in a bun.
“Nice to meet you, Chika. Let me guess. You work here.”
“Very perceptive.” She didn’t smile, and it didn’t sound like a compliment. “I’m the head of the Servant Manor staff and assistant to Mrs. Servant. If you need something, you may come to me.”
“Darren didn’t mention you.”
“He wouldn’t. I’m not his creature.”
I raised my eyebrows. Interesting. Strife in the Servant home.
“I’m not his creature either.”
That seemed to soften her a bit. Her icy stare melted to frost cold instead of glacier frozen. “While you’re in this house, you’re under my care. If you need something, you can reach me via the phone system. I have instructions to ensure you do not leave the building unattended and do not attempt to contact the outside world.”
“So you’re down with the kidnapping thing too, huh?”
“It’s hard to work for the Servant family without having a flexible moral compass.”
I snorted a laugh. “That’s fair, I guess.”
“I was told to give you a tour, but you can eat first if you’re hungry.”
I glanced toward the tray. Rice and beans and some kind of gravy-drenched meat—probably chicken. My stomach rumbled. “A tour would be good.”
“First, we must do this.” She walked over to me and took something round and black from her back pocket.
I hopped out of bed. I was still wearing the same clothes—a white T-shirt and cutoff jeans over a bikini. I felt disgusting, but nobody seemed to care, and my physical grossness was a nice fuck-you to Darren, so that was nice at least.
“What’s that?” I asked.
“It’s a bracelet. You must wear it while you’re here.”
“No, thanks. I’m not a bracelet sort of girl.”
“Darren instructed me to make sure you put this on, and to force it around your ankle if necessary.”
I took a step back. Chika radiated determined anger. She was a good six inches taller than me and could probably throw me out a window if she wanted.
“I thought you weren’t his creature.”
“I’m not. Put on the bracelet.” She tossed it to me.
I caught it. Simple band, basic clasp. I opened it and placed it around my wrist. It felt like manacles. “What is it?”
“GPS tracker and heart rate monitor. If you take it off, we will know.” She stepped forward and snapped the bracelet shut, clicking it into place before I had a chance to tell her to fuck right off to hell and never come back.
“I didn’t agree to any of this,” I said, unable to fight the rising anger.
“It wouldn’t be a kidnapping if you had. Now, would you like the tour, or will you be eating?”
“Tour,” I said through my teeth. “Please.” I needed to get a sense of this house, and while I could do that on my own, it’d be faster with someone guiding me.
Chika nodded and put a hood over the tray to keep the meal warm. “Come then.” She strode out of the room.
I hurried after. She strode down the hall so fast I was nearly jogging to keep up. She was tall and lean and looked like she could run a mile in under four minutes without breaking a sweat. She pointed to various rooms and named half of them as off-limits. “Laundry there, billiards there, piano in there and other instruments if you play.” She took me down the staircase at the end of the hall and through another series of passages which left me completely lost.
The manor was a maze. Some rooms were tiny and cramped, and some were sprawling. “Formal ballroom.” Chika gestured at a crystal-adorned massive space with a dance floor and perfectly polished mirrors decorated with gilt around the edges. “Informal ballroom.” Chika pointed to a similar cavernous area, though slightly less opulent.
Kitchens, bathrooms, more bedrooms than I could count, several sitting rooms, two tea rooms, a sauna, a pool, and that was only in the east wing.
“How big is this place?”
“The manor sits on fifty acres.”
“That doesn’t really answer my question.”
“The house is extremely large and very old.”
“It looks like it’s been expanded constantly for the last hundred years.”
She pursed her lips. “That’s more or less accurate.” She led me down another hall and to a staircase that may or may not have been the one we first descended when an open door caught my eye. I stepped toward it before she could stop me and peered inside.
Darren sat at a massive mahogany desk in front of several computer monitors. I saw him in profile—that perfect nose and sharp chin. A fire crackled behind him, though the house was strangely warm already.
I shoved the door open and strode inside.
Darren looked over.
And so did all the men on his computer screens.
Several pairs of eyes stared at me.
He was on a video call.
“Can I help you?” he asked, tilting his head to the side.
Chika stood in the doorway looking like she wanted to rip my skull from my shoulders and punt my head into the ocean.
Whatever. Chika could sit and screw. So could Darren.
I sucked in a breath and held up my wrist. “We have to talk.”
“Later. I’m in a meeting.” His eyes darted to Chika.
But she didn’t move.
I realized these men were important. They looked like a bunch of half-dead old white guys to me, but that didn’t always mean anything. I suppressed a smile and waved the bracelet in the air.
“Should I start explaining why it’s so wrong for you to put this thing on me? Because I’m sure your friends would find it interesting.”
Darren sighed and looked back at his computer. “Excuse me, gentlemen.” He jammed a key, and the screen went dark.
When the men were gone, Chika strode over and grabbed my wrist. She bent it back, jamming it up and nearly ripping my arm from its socket. I gasped in shock and pain, grimacing as I bent over. She forced me down to my knees, her fingers digging into a pressure point on my wrist.
Holy shit, it was the worst pain I’d ever felt in my life.
“I thought you weren’t his,” I said through my teeth.
Chika said nothing, only held me there with an impassive look on her face.
Darren sighed. “Thank you, Chika. I’m sure my mother will be proud. You can let her go.”
Chika released me. I gasped and slumped forward. “I apologize for the intrusion,” she said. “We were on a tour of the premises. Will there be anything else?”
“No, thank you. Go report to my mother, as always.”
Chika didn’t deny it. She turned and left.
I took deep, gasping breaths. My wrist felt like it was broken, and my shoulder throbbed. If Chika could do that to me without much effort, I definitely didn’t want to piss her off.
Darren stood and looked down at me. “Get up.”
I tilted my chin in the air. “Or what? You going to hurt me too?”
“I might if you don’t listen. Get up.”
I climbed to my feet. I throbbed, but I was otherwise unhurt. Nothing broken, nothing permanent or long-lasting.
“The bracelet,” I said, glaring death at him. “What the fuck is with the bracelet?”
“Mother’s idea. Sometimes she’s clever.”
“I’m not some dog you get to chip and keep on a GPS leash.”
“You’re not chipped. Think of it more like house arrest.”
“Think of it more like I’m going to break it off and shove it up your ass.”
He smiled and seemed genuinely amused. “Shall I call Chika back in here? I got the sense she relished that little interaction.”
“Good, get the help to fight your battles.”
He strode toward me in two long steps. I staggered backward, surprised at the sudden advance, and ran into a bookshelf. A statue clattered and fell over, toppling to the floor.
I glanced down. It was a sparrow in jade with a broken wing.
Darren’s hands pinned my arms to my sides. His face came close, lips parted, eyes steady. The smile was gone.
The heat from his palms radiated down my skin.
I hated him. He smelled incredible.
“Understand something. I want to make this easy. I like you, love. But Chika will not be kind, and my patience has limits.”
“You keep using Chika to threaten me. I still don’t see you fighting your own battles.”
His fingers dug into my flesh. I grunted in pain but tried not to let it show.
“You want me to hurt you?” he asked, tilting his head slightly. “Do you like it when it hurts?”
“I’m sure you know since you did so much research about me.”
“I know about your old boyfriends. I know you’ve never been in a relationship for longer than six months. You have quite the string of broken hearts behind you.”
I nearly snarled. “Why do you give a shit about my love life?”
“Because I’m curious.” His grip relaxed. One hand moved up my arm, along the back of my neck, and into my hair. He grabbed it tight and pulled.
I gasped in surprise but struggled to keep my eyes on his. “Fighting your own battles now.”
“You’re trying to test me. I know what you’re doing, but it won’t work. You can push all you want, but you’re not in control here.”
“Tell that to the hand in my hair.” I smiled as if this was exactly what I wanted.
Except this wasn’t. Not even close.
I wanted to piss him off. That was true. I wanted to knock him off balance to see if I could get him to do something interesting or to make a mistake.
I didn’t want him this close. I didn’t want his hand in my hair or on my arm.
His smell wafted all around. His gorgeous lips parted.
I didn’t want this feeling buzzing down between my legs.
Equal parts hate, fear, and desire.
It was disgusting. Reprehensible.
I wanted him to pull my hair tighter.
As if he could read my mind, he gave me what I wanted.
I gasped in pain.
“Keep playing games,” he whispered. “Go ahead. I like to play. I think you’ll find that I’m the perfect partner.”
“Take the bracelet off.”
“No.”
“I’m not a dog.”
“But you are my pet, little love.”
I slammed my knee forward, aiming for his crotch.
It was stupid. I’ll admit it. I shouldn’t have resorted to trying to physically hurt him. That wouldn’t end well, and I knew it.
But as soon as he called me his pet, I saw red.
I wasn’t exactly a cool, calm, and collected sort of person.
My knee barely missed. He twisted as if he expected my attack. I smashed into his hip, then struggled forward, but the hand in my hair ripped me back and the other arm shoved across my chest, pinning me against the bookshelf. The wood dug into my spine as I snarled at him.
“Don’t you ever call me that again.”
He smiled, eyes sparkling. “Which do you hate more? Spring or pet? I think I’ll call you both.”
“You asshole.”
“Keep fighting. Come on. Fight harder.”
His arm on my chest moved as his hand palmed my breast.
I sucked in a sharp breath. Time paused.
My nipples were hard. I knew he felt it. He knew I was excited, riled up.
But this was a step too far.
I threw myself at him. “Don’t touch me.” I tried to hit him, slap him. He caught my wrists and turned me from the bookshelf, then held me down against an overstuffed easy chair.
I was breathing hard, raging and wild. He grinned down at me, his hair messy from my attack, at least one long scratch down his cheek where my nails had bitten into his perfect face.
He loved it. And the way his body controlled me sent a dizzying, confusing mix of revulsion and need through my guts.
“Are you done?” he asked. “Or do you want to fight more? I’d enjoy making you submit, love.”
“Get off me.” I said the words as calmly as I could.
Maybe that was all he was waiting for. Maybe he had to get back to his meeting. I didn’t know why, but he released me and stepped back.
I sat breathing hard and trying to compose myself.
He’d touched my breast. He’d felt my hard nipple through my thin shirt and my bikini top, and I’d fucking liked it.
I’d liked the rough hand in my hair, the masculine smell of him, his massive arms and domineering smirk.
It was fucked up and raw and every inch of my skin tingled with desire.
I wanted to wrap my legs around his hips and ride him until sweat poured down my back.
Which only made me hate him more.
“The bracelet is too far.” I stood up and straightened my clothes. I was a rumpled mess, and my dignity was long gone, but I still wouldn’t let him win. “I’m not going to wear it.”
“I’ll speak with my mother and see if we can’t come up with an alternative.”
“Thank you.”
He nodded and ran a hand through his hair. “Now, I have the heads of four mafia families waiting for me. Am I dismissed? Or do you want to attack me again?”
“I attacked you only because you grabbed my breast.”
“Purely on accident. Although I’ll admit, I think you liked it.”
I held back. “Asshole. Enjoy your little meeting.” Then stormed out of the room.
I lingered in the hall, seething.
That bastard. He was supposed to be the one all riled up and tossed around like a ship in a storm.
So why was I barely keeping myself together?
I heard someone clear her throat nearby. Chika stood with her hands clasped. “Right this way whenever you’re ready,” she said.
I didn’t speak, only followed her back up the steps, down a series of halls, and into my room.
When she was gone, I wolfed down the food, took a shower, and worked up the courage to survive this godforsaken hell with my sense of self intact.
