Hell by J.L. Beck
10
Lucian
I’ve only stayed awayfrom her for two days, but that’s already two days too long.
It’s not right. I can’t use up my encounters this quickly.
But I can’t get anything else done, either, with Rowan running through my mind on an endless loop. The feel of her, the taste of her skin. The sweetness of her sighs, her moans, even when she wants to pretend she’s not as turned on as I am.
If anything, breaking her will makes the whole thing hotter. Knowing she can’t resist me no matter how she fights it. I know the feeling. I’ve struggled to resist her since the night I first laid eyes upon her, and I haven’t been successful yet.
It might be better to get her out of my system quickly. Once the possibility of being with her is solidly in the past, it will be easier to forget her. The option will no longer be there. The temptation is removed from my subconscious, where it insists on plaguing me.
I summon Rick to my office around mid-afternoon, after waiting as long as humanly possible. He drove Rowan here the day of her examination, so he knows where to find her. “Pick up Rowan and bring her to me.” He nods once before turning and leaving the room. Rick’s one of my longtime employees, part bodyguard, part driver. He doesn’t need to be told more than once to do something, which is one reason he’s remained in my employ this long.
I hate having to repeat myself.
Now that I know she’s on her way, I can get back to business. The club’s books sit in front of me—both of them, the one we use for IRS purposes and the one recording our true numbers. While I trust my accountants, there’s nothing like the threat of me reviewing their work to keep them honest.
And the only people who fully trust their accountants are the ones who either end up robbed blind or imprisoned for some stupid mistake. I won’t be either of those people. Even making certain all of my employees are generously compensated isn’t enough to guard against trouble down the road, and I know it.
Everything looks good from where I’m sitting. The money we take in from big-ticket customers like Glen and his ilk is carefully concealed in membership fees for individuals who don’t exist. According to these “official” books, we do brisk business but nothing over the top.
Of course, this isn’t my only business. It’s one of many, none of which are exactly legal. Neither is paying for sex, but that’s what membership fees are for. They’re our way around sticky legal problems.
It isn’t until I glance at the clock and find a half-hour has passed that I start wondering what’s taking Rick so long. I’ve been to her apartment, and it’s not more than ten minutes from the club, even with traffic. She might need time to prepare herself, come to think of it.
And if that’s what’s taking so long, I can only fantasize about how to punish her once she’s with me. Didn’t I warn her? She has to be ready for me whenever I want her.
A few minutes pass before my cell rings. It’s Rick, and instantly my instincts tell me something’s off. He wouldn’t call unless there was an emergency or something like that. “What?” I bark into the phone, already put off from having to wait.
“Uh… She’s not coming out.”
I stand abruptly enough to knock my chair against the credenza behind the desk. “I know you didn’t just say that.”
“I’m sorry, boss, but she says she can’t. She won’t even open the door for me.”
My free hand clenches into a fist which I slam against the desk. I’ve waited long enough, and she has the nerve to make me wait longer. I was too easy on her the last time, treating her the way I did. I gave her the idea she has a say in this arrangement.
That will have to be rectified.
“I’ll be there in a few minutes. Don’t leave her door. If she doesn’t want to come out, I’ll have to go in—so make sure she stays in there until I show.” I end the call, already halfway down the stairs, my irritation rising with every step.
I’m a busy man. She knows this. Does she think this is some sort of game? Was I not clear enough in my instructions? When I want her, she’s available to me. It isn’t difficult.
Now, I have to take time out of my day to fetch her, like she’s a goddamn queen. I wonder if I should’ve included an engraved invitation for Rick to slide under her door. Perhaps a red carpet for her to walk over on her way to the car.
I fire off the address to another one of my drivers, one I don’t trust as much as I do Rick. To think he’s not able to get her out of her apartment. I shudder to think what a clusterfuck any of my less-experienced men would turn this into. At least he had the presence of mind to call me rather than trying to force her out and inspiring a neighbor to call the police.
It takes all of eight minutes to reach her building. I spot one of our SUVs out front, telling me Rick stayed put as instructed. No cop cars, so the situation hasn’t escalated.
Good thing, since I’d have to take any hush money paid to the cops out of the amount I already paid her. Better yet, I would tack the amount onto her debt, maybe get an extra encounter out of it. The idea doesn’t exactly piss me off—in fact, my cock starts to stir at the thought—but I dismiss it as I step onto the sidewalk. It wouldn’t be worth the hassle.
Rick stands up straighter when I reach her door, shrugging his thick shoulders in a helpless gesture. “Like I said, she’s in there, but she ain’t coming out.”
Maybe for him. “Thank you, Rick. You can wait out by the car.” He’s not a smart man, but he knows better than to stick around.
I knock hard on the door. “Rowan. It’s Lucian. Open the door.”
She must’ve been waiting on the other side, her voice louder than I expected. “I can’t. I’m sorry.”
What is it about her voice? Or is it the way she’s enunciating? Either way, she sounds slightly off. “Are you ill? What’s this about?”
“I just can’t, is all. I’m sorry. Give me a few days, please.”
She’s lisping. I don’t know what it means, only that her stubbornness is pissing me off worse than ever. Not to mention the fact that she won’t let me see her. Either she’s hiding something or…
What if she has a man in there with her?
My blood starts boiling. “Either open the door, or I’ll kick it in. Your choice. One… two…”
The lock clicks, but she takes her time to open up. I discover her one bit at a time: bruises around her eyes, a swollen nose, split lips. No wonder she can’t speak clearly.
“Who did this to you?” I can barely whisper, but even that makes her flinch. I fully realize how dangerous I sound right now, just as I know there’s no hope of making myself sound any other way. Somebody beat the shit out of her.
Somebody beat the shit out of what’s mine. Nobody touches what belongs to me.
I step into the apartment rather than have this conversation out in the hall, careful to close the door behind me. “You didn’t answer my question.”
She lowers her head, letting her hair fall across her battered face. “It’s nothing.”
I bark out a laugh, making her flinch again. “Don’t waste your breath on that shit. This is nothing? You look like somebody used your face for a punching bag. Who did it? Where are they?”
She backs away, eyes as wide as she can get them. He didn’t strike her directly in them—it was a man, it had to be—but the swelling of her cheeks gives the illusion of them being swollen. “Please, let it go. I’ll be fine in a few days.”
“Stop wasting my fucking time, Rowan. I’m going to get answers out of you. Either you can provide them without upsetting me any further or you can continue to test my patience until it shatters. Your choice.”
Her chin trembles. Only now do I notice the bruising around her throat, too. I’ll kill the motherfucker who did this if it’s the last thing I ever do. “It’s… he’s…” She raises one hand, covering her face, and now her shoulders shake as she begins weeping.
He did this to her, whoever he is.
But I’m not making it any easier. Even now, seeing red, my blood boiling over, I know I’m not helping. So I force myself to draw a deep breath, and when I speak again, my voice is a tad more controlled. “Get some things together. You’re coming with me.”
“What?” Her head snaps up, her mouth hanging open. I can’t help but remember those lips wrapped around my cock. Now they’re swollen, ugly. I’ll kill him with my bare hands, the son of a bitch.
“You heard me. Get your things, you have two minutes—otherwise, you’re coming empty-handed, but you are coming with me. I’ll have Rick come back to carry you out if need be.” I level a hard gaze at her, arms folding. “Now, Rowan.”
It seems I finally got through to her. She disappears into the bedroom, and I hear drawers opening and closing in a flurry of activity. A minute later, she emerges with a duffel bag which I take from her before ushering her out the door.
Once we’re in the car, with Rick at the wheel after a few murmured instructions from me, Rowan covers her face again. “I can’t stand anybody seeing me like this.”
“You have nothing to be ashamed of.” I’m gentle but firm, pulling her hands away so I can see her. Now in daylight, it’s so much worse. There are finger marks on her throat. He squeezed her that hard. I’ve had my hand there and manage to avoid leaving a mark—and I wasn’t exactly gentle, either. How vicious is this bastard?
“You don’t know how it feels.” She sniffles, head hanging low. “I was so afraid you would want to see me before I healed.”
“Don’t worry about that now. You’re safe with me.”
She snorts, then looks at me in obvious fear. “Sorry. I believe you. It’s just that you don’t know him.”
My left hand is out of her field of vision, and it tightens into a fist. “Who is he?”
She releases a shuddery breath, obviously arguing with herself. It’s either that or the habit of concealing him is so deeply ingrained that she has to fight against the knee-jerk impulse to cover for him. Regardless of why, it takes a moment for her to answer. “My ex-boyfriend. Eric.”
Shitty name. “Does this Eric have a last name?”
“Walters.” Then she looks at me. “Why?”
“I like to know the full names of the people I want to hurt.”
“No, no, you can’t do anything.” Her eyes well up again. “Not because I’m afraid he’ll get hurt. I wish he would. But that’ll only make things worse for me in the end.”
“Do you believe I have anything to fear from him? Seriously.” I glance toward Rick, and she seems to get the hint since her head bobs up and down. “Tell me about Eric. And you. What’s the story here?” I want to hear every word, unvarnished. I want her to tell me everything, every last detail.
I want to play it over in my head as I watch him die.
Her hands twist in her lap. She stares down at them while speaking. “He’s the reason you couldn’t find anything about me online. Remember? When I first came to the club?”
That explains it. I’d almost forgotten. “So your name isn’t Rowan?”
“No, it is, but I closed out all of my online accounts before I left him. I saved up every penny I could for months and finally ran when I couldn’t take it anymore. He was out with his friends that night—I knew when he’d come home since he always showed up an hour or so after the bars closed. I can’t tell you how many times I sat up in bed, dreading the sound of him coming in. I got a fake driver’s license with a fake address, so there’s no true record of me in the DMV database anymore. I didn’t tell anybody—not like I have any friends to tell, anyway. He made sure of that. He made sure of a lot of things.”
“But he found you.”
She nods slowly. “I don’t know how. He didn’t say. He followed me to the mall and did this to me when I was in a dressing room.” Her voice cracks, and she wipes away a tear. “He’s crazy. He’s never gone that far before. Hitting me in public? He would never have done that.”
Because she’s no longer his. She ventured out on her own, away from him, and it enraged him worse than ever. I can almost imagine the level of rage that would drive a man to do something like what he did to her.
But that’s as far as it goes. Only the lowest man beats a woman, especially one as small and defenseless as Rowan. I’ve witnessed enough harm done in the name of satisfying a kink to know there are situations in which one or both parties might emerge wounded, hurt.
This isn’t one of those situations. Nobody paid her to let them beat her. There was no consent here—only pain and fear. And a cowardly little piece of shit who probably considers himself a man.
“He wanted me to go with him. He actually thought I would leave the store with him.” She laughs humorlessly. “I couldn’t. I knew he’d kill me if I went—maybe not right away, but eventually. It’s why I left in the first place. I knew it would never get better because he’ll never get better. Can you believe I used to think he would?” She says in disbelief.
Yes, she would’ve done better to wait for Santa Claus to slide down the chimney. People like him never change. “Thank you for telling me about him. I’m sure that couldn’t have been easy.” Considering the blinding rage now consuming me, I think I sound downright gentle. It’s enough for her shoulders to fall slightly as if the tension is finally draining away.
She looks out the window. “Are we going to your house now?”
“Yes. You’ll be safe there. If he found you at the mall, no telling how long he’s been following you. There’s no way he’ll know to look for you anywhere near me.” But I know him, or I will once my guys finish looking for him. Eric Walters. He doesn’t know it, but his days are numbered.
Once we’re at the house, I hand her bag over to Rick and lead her upstairs and down the hall. “There’s plenty of room here, as you know.”
“Your bedroom?” She steps into the suite in which her examination took place, her head on a swivel as she looks around.
“This isn’t my bedroom. Mine is at the other end of the hall.” I extend an arm in that direction. “You have full use of the suite, along with anything else in the house, except for my suite of rooms. They’re off-limits. Understood?”
She nods, swallowing—and wincing when she does. I make a note to request a pot of tea for her, something to ease the pain. “Come on. I’ll run you a bath. Soaking for a while will help relax you.” I don’t wait for her to accept, going straight to the bathroom and turning on the faucet. Soon steam rises up in a cloud. Rowan lingers in the doorway, watching me with obvious anxiety.
“What?” I straighten up, looking around the room. “Is there something wrong here? Is there anything missing?”
She shakes her head. “No. It’s beautiful here. But I know you’re a busy man. You must have a million more important things to think about.”
The girl isn’t wrong. There are a million things in need of my attention. Damned if I can think of a single one that doesn’t directly involve her. “Don’t worry about that. Just do as I say, and you’ll be fine. Enjoy your bath.” I leave her alone then, and not a moment too soon. I don’t know how much longer I could’ve maintained a neutral expression, something that wouldn’t scare her worse than she’s already been scared.
Rick’s waiting for me in the hall, and the look we exchange tells me he knows what’s coming. “Eric Walters,” I snarl. “Find that bastard for me.”
He nods, his lip curling in disgust. “Gladly.”
