Hell by J.L. Beck
11
Rowan
This isn’thow I saw my day turning out; that much is for sure.
Soaking in this enormous tub which is more like a swimming pool. I could invite five people to join me and still have plenty of room to stretch out. It took a minute, but I figured out how to turn on the jets, and they’ve been working magic on my sore muscles.
Not that I’ve been doing a lot of heavy lifting in the past couple of days or anything like that. This is the sort of soreness that happens when a person has been tense for too long. And that’s how I’ve been since my trip to the mall, where I left empty-handed—one big ball of tension. Always waiting for the other shoe to drop, for Eric to barge through the door.
Now, I don’t have to worry about that. I can close my eyes and disconnect from everything for a little while.
Isn’t it strange, relying on Lucian for protection? He’s the sort of guy a girl needs protection from, right? But here I am, soaking in his tub. Able to breathe, finally.
Eric would have to be the world’s biggest idiot to follow me here, even if he saw me leaving the apartment with Lucian and his driver.
I almost wish he would. For once, he would get what’s coming to him.
If my lips didn’t hurt so bad, I would smile. It’s better to keep them as still as I can, not to smile or even open my mouth too wide. They’ll never heal otherwise. One of the many lessons Eric taught me over the years. A few days shy of two years, in fact. Looking back, I can’t figure out why I stayed as long as I did.
That’s easy to think, looking back. When a girl is in the middle of hell with no visible way out, it’s not so easy to sit on a high horse and pass judgment. The fact is, all I could do then was survive. Which meant being on my best behavior as much as possible, making sure I did nothing to upset him. I walked on eggshells for those two years.
You’re walking on eggshells here, too.
I’m not a huge fan of the voice in my head right now. I don’t need to be reminded that I have no idea what any of this means. What I now owe Lucian. No way is any of this being offered for free. Men like him don’t hand out favors for nothing. He’ll find a way to make me pay him back.
I guess all I can do is hope his repayment method is less painful than what I would’ve dealt with from Eric.
The bath is a nice start, anyway. It gives me hope. Maybe this won’t be so bad. Maybe I’ll actually be able to sleep tonight, now that I won’t have to be worried about my door getting kicked in.
Though that doesn’t mean I can be completely relaxed. I need to remember who I’m with. The man is dangerous—there was a minute in the apartment when I was afraid he might start throwing things, or worse. I’ve seen that sort of rage cross a man’s face before. I’ve seen it up close and personal, and not all that long ago.
In a way, Lucian reminds me of Eric. He’s polished and sophisticated and definitely sexier than Eric could ever hope to be on his best day. But he’s also brutal. He’s done brutal things to me, even if all of it was sort of fake. Like the way he told me to fight back because he wanted me to.
He’s just as dark inside as Eric is. The difference between them is Lucian has found a way to let that side of himself out. He has fun with it, even if his idea of fun is pretty dark and twisted. In the end, he wants to feel like he controls me or any woman he’s with.
And when it comes right down to it, that’s how Eric is, too. They’re like two sides of the same coin.
That’s what’s on my mind when the bathroom door opens and Lucian enters the room. He didn’t knock or anything. He probably figures that’s his right since this is his house. Either way, I’m not about to argue with him.
He checks his watch. “You’ve been in here for forty-five minutes.”
“I have?” When I look at my fingers, they tell the story. My skin is beyond pruney. “I guess I lost track of time.”
“You’ll boil yourself alive before long.” He takes a pair of towels from a stack beside the tub, and I take that as a hint. I’ve soaked long enough. It’s okay. I can’t imagine spending more time in here anyway.
He helps me out of the tub, taking me by the arms like he’s afraid I’ll slip and fall. That’s not the most surprising thing, though. It’s when he shakes out one of the towels and starts drying me off. He doesn’t say a word, doesn’t ask if I want help.
He’s not gentle about it, either. In fact, he’s a little rougher than he needs to be. I find myself wincing as he rubs my skin, but I hold my tongue for fear of what might happen if I complain.
He’s angry, obviously, just the way he was in the car. If there’s one thing I know, it’s not to push someone’s buttons when they’re already angry. Wasn’t I just comparing him to Eric a few minutes ago?
I don’t know how much more of this I can take. Living in fear. Just because Lucian lives in a mansion and I’ll be comfortable here doesn’t mean the fear will go anywhere. A gilded cage is still a cage.
My heart is racing when he turns me around to dry off my front. He won’t look me in the eye—I’m not sure how I feel about that, whether it’s a good thing or not. The tightness of his jaw worries me, for sure. He looks like he’s ready to kill somebody.
He wanted me today, and it’s obvious I’m not available for him. Not in that way. I honestly can’t imagine even pretending to be forced into fucking him. I’m too raw, and I might be for a while.
What if he decides to take the money back? I haven’t spent very much of it—only the one outfit for the interviews. That doesn’t matter, though, because I can’t give it back. It would leave me with nothing, and I’d be at square one all over again.
After all this? No, I can’t do that. I can’t go back to the way things were before, not after days spent dreaming of how much easier life will be now that I know I have a nest egg in case everything goes to shit.
I’m starting to feel a little woozy, and it’s getting hard to breathe. I need some fresh air. The room is too steamy, and I can’t pull in a decent breath.
“Rowan?” Now Lucian is looking at me, studying me with a scowl twisting his usually handsome features. “What’s wrong with you?”
Everything. That’s what I want to say because that’s the answer. Everything is wrong with me. As wrong as it can be. Just when I think I’m getting ahead. Just when I think things are finally starting to go my way, something always happens. Something gets fucked up. It’s not even my fault this time—I was as careful as I could be, but Eric found me anyway.
And now Lucian is mad at me. He’s going to take away the money, and I won’t even be able to afford my crappy little apartment anymore. What am I going to do? How am I supposed to make it through this?
He catches me before I hit the floor. My legs are shaky, my knees weak. He sits me on the edge of the tub, then crouches in front of me. “Breathe. That’s all you have to do right now. Breathe.”
But I can’t, and I can’t tell him I can’t. All I can do is shake my head.
He wraps a towel around me, lifts me in his arms, and carries me into the bedroom. In the back of my mind, fear takes hold. So he does want sex. I should’ve known. My panic only rises, and all I can do is breathe in tiny little gasps.
He sets me down, then opens the nearest window. A rush of cool air flows toward me, making goose bumps rise on my damp skin. But it’s nice. Refreshing.
“All you have to do is breathe. That’s all you need to do right now. In and out, slowly.” He stands in front of me, arms folded, and I can’t help but think I’m only pissing him off more than ever. He so impatient, and I know his time is valuable. I’ve already wasted enough of it today.
Dear god. What am I supposed to do? How do I get out of this?
“Are you in pain?” I shake my head because I’m not. “Good. Anything else, we can deal with.”
That’s what he thinks. He’s not in my place. Wondering what the hell is going on through the head of the person in front of him. What the rest of his life is going to look like. Whether he’s going to be out on the street.
“Lie down. Relax.” He walks around the bed while I do as he says, gingerly stretching out while still wrapped in the towel. It’s like lying on a cloud, absolutely luxurious, even nicer than the soak in the tub. If I had a bed like this, I would never leave it.
I can’t help but flinch at his touch. He climbed into the bed without me noticing, and he isn’t wearing his suit jacket anymore. He slides one arm under me, draping the other over the top of me, and pulls me a little closer.
All I do is wait. It’s inevitable; his touch will change. His arms will tighten, and maybe he’ll clamp a hand over my mouth. For all I know, this is turning him on, knowing how defenseless I feel. How scared I am. I’m not putting it on this time, either. This isn’t for show. I’m genuinely scared out of my mind.
“Relax. I’m not going to bite you.” Is that humor in his voice? I can’t tell. If it is, he’s laughing at me, but I don’t care. It’s better than him being so angry.
“Sorry. I’m just upset.”
“You don’t have to apologize for being upset. You’ve been through a lot. I have to admit, I had forgotten about you being so hard to find online. Now that you’ve explained the situation, I wonder how I didn’t put it together for myself.”
Why would he think that much about me in the first place? I want to ask, but I don’t dare. I can’t shake the feeling of there being an invisible line between us, one I don’t dare cross. But that’s the thing about invisible lines: if they’re invisible, you don’t know where they are or when you’ve crossed them.
Not until it’s too late.
“All you have to do now is rest. You have nothing to be afraid of here. Tell me you understand that.”
Sure, but it will be a lie. Just about everything about Lucian scares me—most especially the fact that he was the first person I thought of when I got home after the mall. Wondering if I could or should reach out to him. Whether it would be okay to ask him for help — and whether I could afford the payment in return. That was what stopped me, knowing he doesn’t do anything for free. I didn’t want to end up indebted to him even further since God knows what I’d have to do to pay it off.
He expects me to answer, so I do. “I understand.”
“But you took your time answering.”
I close my eyes, wincing, glad that my back is to him so he can’t see my face. “When you’ve been through what I have, it’s not easy to trust. I’m sorry, but that’s the truth.”
He’s quiet for a few seconds, long enough that I can’t help but wonder if I’ve offended him. Finally, he sighs in my ear. “Yes, I suppose it would be difficult.” Is it just me, or do his arms tighten a little bit when he says it? Almost like he’s hugging me.
It’s dangerous, thinking that way, but it also makes me feel good. If I can trick myself into thinking this is all for my benefit, that he’s doing this for me as opposed to protecting an investment or something like that, I can finally and fully relax. I sink deeper into the bed, into the pillows under my head. I can feel safe with his arms around me. Like nothing in the world will touch me so long as I’m with him.
“There’s something about me I want to make clear, here and now. No matter what I do to you or to any other woman in the service of my needs, I detest anyone who takes their frustrations and feelings of inadequacy out on a weaker person. They’re the worst kind of coward, and there’s no place for them in society. I hate thinking of you suffering at the hands of someone like that. And I wish I had known he might one day be a problem, so I could’ve helped you avoid him.”
It takes a minute for what he’s saying to sink into my brain. “You would’ve done that? Help me, I mean?”
“I don’t say things I don’t mean, Rowan. Yes, I would’ve done my best to see to it you were safe, away from him. While I understand your reticence, I hope you understand now that it’s best to be honest with me.”
“But I didn’t know.” To be honest, I still don’t. I can’t figure him out. One second, he looks like he’s ready to kill somebody, and the next, he’s practically rocking me to sleep in his arms.
“Now you do. You need something, you tell me so.”
“Okay. I will.”
“Now try to get some sleep. You’re overtired, distraught. Some rest will help. And when you wake up, there’s plenty to eat and drink in the kitchen. I want you to take care of yourself.”
“I will.” And as I close my eyes, if only for his sake, I try to convince myself he’s being sincere. That he only wants to help me out. I wish I could believe him, that’s all. I wish I could shake the idea of there being strings attached somehow. Maybe I’m not being fair to him, but screw fair. Life hasn’t exactly been fair to me, either.
After a while, his arms loosen, and he slides away from me. I start a little but settle back down, my eyes still closed. Let him think I’m asleep. He walks slowly and quietly from the room and closes the door without hardly making a sound, leaving me alone.
I wish I could understand him.
