Sasha
His wife. Did the insane asshole actually think I was going to marry him? He was fucking out of his goddamn mind. I’d die first.
Fuck the man who thought he would own me. To hell with my father.
“Never forget… I will break you…”
His damning words lingered, leaving a nasty taste in my mouth. I’d whispered them over and over again as I packed, unable to wrap my head around the deal with the devil. Whatever sins my father had committed, the fact he’d garnered the Gonzalez s’ attention had yet to be fully explained. Perhaps my father didn’t have the guts to admit what he’d done. I’d already ventured a guess. I knew about his penchant for gambling, his love of winning at all costs. This had been a lifelong addiction, something he’d argued about when my mother was alive.
Oh. My. God. I still couldn’t understand anything. I was lost in a time warp. My phone, iPad, and laptop had been taken away, any chance I had of contacting the outside world eliminated. If the bastard hurt Audrey in any manner, I’d kill him. I swear to God.
I’d sat through lunch in a fog as they discussed my transfer, as if I was nothing more than merchandise. I still couldn’t fathom how this could happen on any level. How could my father barter my body in exchange for keeping his career and his freedom?
There weren’t enough words in the English language to describe my hatred of him. Or of August. One day, I would exact revenge.
And it wouldn’t stop with my father.
My mind reeled with ugly thoughts, murderous in fact. I could see blood in spots in front of my eyes even as tears threatened to give away my continued terror.
The moment I’d been led into August’s glorified office, I stood gawking at the picture over the mantel.
One of the paintings he’d just purchased. I could barely stomach seeing the steamy dark piece, very much a telling of my personality just like August had managed to pick out.
I stood in the center of an expansive room, the mahogany-lined shelves full of books, sculptures, and pictures of pretty people smiling from tropical destinations. Nothing seemed real. What little I’d seen of wherever I’d been taken was limited to this space and nothing more. I’d heard the lock click in place, the gravelly voice telling me that only after he was gone could I remove my blindfold. My fingers had fumbled in an effort to do so, stiff and cold from the ride over.
Light snow had been falling when I left, the change in the weather forecast unpredicted, just like the change in my life. Harsh conditions. An icy reception. I almost laughed at the realization that everything I’d ever known had been swept away.
At precisely eight in the evening, a car had arrived to take me to my new destination. My father had said nothing, only kissing me on the forehead before walking into his office and closing the door. I’d refused to cry or show any emotion. I was cold, dead inside and that would keep me very much alive. I’d been blindfolded then forced into the backseat of a car, a man I’d never seen before slipping in beside me. I’d dared to gaze into his eyes, memorizing his face seconds before he’d secured the material around my eyes.
The brute was a solid three hundred pounds of muscle and anger.
Had I considered going to the police after lunch? Hell, yes, but memories of my beautiful mother had kept me from doing so. If there was a chance she was alive, I refused to give into my fears. If she wasn’t, the bastard would pay. Besides, the police would never believe me. The man had purchased my paintings. I’d no doubt been seen leaving with him, in his very expensive POS car from the gallery. The man was a master player and I was simply too naive.
Tears slipped past my lashes and I rubbed them away in a fierce manner. The asshole wasn’t going to get to me, no matter how sexy his eyes or demanding his tone. Fuck. Him. Fuck the world. I was my own woman. He will never break you. He will never break you…
I continued to say the words in my mind.
I shivered even though a roaring fire was going in the stone fireplace, unable to move any closer. The room was impressive in detail and design, artistic and very masculine, but also without any sign of life. The blinds were closed, including on the massive set of French doors and I dared not touch them. Tonight I’d remain compliant, pretending to listen to him until I knew what I was facing. I made several promises to myself, finally closing my eyes and catching my breath.
When I opened them I was calmer, able to study my surroundings. If this had been any other time, I might consider the space beautiful, but for me, this was nothing but four walls and roof.
A cage.
Swallowing, the bile sticking in my throat had been there since lunch, keeping my stomach churning. I’d thought through several plans, knowing that one day I would escape, but I’d have to play along. At least to a point. I’d followed at least one of August’s orders, wearing a dress and heels. The entire situation was laughable. This wasn’t about a date or a round of passion, not that there’d been any real adoration in our hard fucking. Jesus. I still couldn’t believe I’d been so stupid. There was no way I could fall for the man, no matter how much he threatened me. I wiped a single tear, refusing to succumb to anything that the man had to offer. I’d made a promise to myself and I would keep it.
Damn him.
Damn the world.
Damn my father.
My real anger was directed at myself. One night of letting go had turned into this. I took a deep breath, closing my eyes. One day at a time.
I had no idea how long I’d been forced to wait. I also had no watch on my wrist, no jewelry of any kind in fact. August’s orders had been very specific about what I’d been allowed to bring, which didn’t include my paints or canvases. All the discussions about my work, my art, and what I loved didn’t matter in the least. The rest of everything I might need he would furnish, or so he’d stated almost in passing. I’d noticed the Rolex on his arm, a bold statement for a man like him. Even his less formal attire had the scent of wealth, his shoes perfectly polished. The family lived in the lap of luxury while their victims suffered.
I was nothing to him. A commodity.