Ruin: Slay Two, Page 3

  “No one knows that.” My voice was nearly a whisper.

  His knuckles pressed into the desk as he leaned into them. “I’ve done my research, too, sweetheart.”

  It was a change my father made to my trust years ago, when he’d thought I’d marry Hudson Pierce. Some stupid loophole he’d found to avoid paying taxes. His shares would be transferred to my name at the time of my marriage. He’d never expected to actually give up control of Werner Media, though, until he retired. That was supposed to be protected by my prenup, and it was.

  A prenup didn’t do anything, though, in a case of death.

  Oh, God.

  He wasn’t bluffing. He meant what he’d said. He really did mean to kill me.

  There was something Edward didn’t know, however. If he did, this whole scheme of his would be null and void. He didn’t know that Hudson Pierce secretly owned more shares than my father. My father didn’t even know it. If Edward was after control of Werner Media, killing me would get him close, but it wouldn’t get him where he wanted to be.

  If I told him now, would he realize the futility of his plan and let me go?

  Possibly.

  It would also make me worth nothing. And now that he’d threatened my life, he couldn’t let me walk away and not expect repercussions. I was fucked if he didn’t know the truth. I was doubly fucked if he did.

  I folded my hands in my lap, aware that they were shaking, hoping he didn’t see how much. “So...what? You just come back from this honeymoon a single man?”

  He paused only for the space of a breath. “It had been the plan.”

  “And now?”

  “Now, I’m willing to renegotiate.”

  Hope rushed through me before reality set in. “There isn’t anything you can offer that will get me to sign those shares over to you. Threaten me all you want. I’m not handing over my father’s company to his arch nemesis.” My father would kill me if Edward didn’t.

  “Forget the shares for the moment.” He tossed the subject away casually, as though we were talking about bed linens instead of the state of my life. “Let’s talk about what you’d planned to do to me. You wanted to convict me of some sexual crime, but to do so, you would have had to endure whatever it is that I prefer in the bedroom. I’m guessing that you still don’t know what that is exactly.”

  “Uh.” It was difficult to focus on anything but my predicament, so I focused on the effort. Bedroom. What he likes there. In truth I didn’t know exactly what he did with his lovers, but wasn’t the gist obvious? “I have some thoughts.”

  “I’m sure you do,” he said, patronizingly. “But let me tell you so you know for sure—I like to see a woman broken down.”

  I shook my head. “Whatever that means, I have no doubt I could have handled it just fine.”

  He lifted his hands off the table and thrust them in his pockets, once again towering over me at his full height. “Let’s find out,” he said.

  “I don’t know what you’re saying.” I was starting to get a headache and the lack of food was getting to me. I needed things spelled out.

  So Edward started spelling. “I’m saying, that’s my deal. You want to live? Then let me break you down.”

  Three

  Lightning flashed, and with a loud crack of thunder, the lights went out, underscoring Edward’s offer, because even nature was under his command. Why was I not surprised?

  The blanket of darkness was a welcome relief. This time, Edward couldn’t see the latest shiver that his words precipitated. He couldn’t see the new stippling of gooseflesh along my arms. Couldn’t see whatever I was sure my expression hadn’t managed to conceal.

  Break you down.

  What the hell was that supposed to mean?

  But now wasn’t the time to ask, in the dark, with the wind and rain hitting so forcefully against the windows that I wasn’t entirely sure they wouldn’t break.

  I could hear Edward across from me, a drawer of his desk opening and closing before a light shone brightly in my eyes.

  I put my hand up to block my vision, my eyes squinting. The light remained there for several seconds then dropped down slightly, settling on my mouth.

  “There are emergency lights in the kitchen,” Edward said, and I could see now that what he was holding was only his cell phone.

  I’d stopped carrying mine since I’d been on the island. The cellular service was too spotty and unreliable. Now the once relied-on gadget was only good for an alarm clock. Flashlight was another notable use, apparently.

  The beam dropped from my face to the floor, moving around the desk along with the man holding it.

  “Come,” he said, and I was on my feet before I even thought of following his order. Once I was standing, his fingertips gripped tightly at my elbow, as though he didn’t believe I’d accompany him otherwise.

  Honestly, he might not have been wrong. Power out or not, I wasn’t keen on letting him be my hero. With his hand tugging me along, I didn’t have much choice in the matter.

  He led me swiftly through the library doors into the hall. My nipples immediately stiffened as the temperature out here varied significantly from the warmer cocoon of his office space. Again, I was glad that the lights had gone out so that Edward wouldn’t see the noticeable peaks through my bikini top. I’d be damned if he thought they were for him.

  Funny how less than an hour ago, they had been for him.

  His hand had crushed the flesh of my breast while he’d fucked me from behind, and I’d not only welcomed it all but urged him for more.

  The memory brought a fresh wave of warmth between my legs. My stupid libido still responded to him. I didn’t know who I hated more for that—him or my body.

  Besides the effect it had on my nipples, the cool air brought on another shiver, one that Edward wouldn’t miss with his hand on my elbow the way it was.

  He stopped abruptly, surprising me. I tripped forward, only managing to stay upright because he was already holding me. His other hand, still holding his cell phone, moved to my other arm, as though automatically, steadying me. His touch was hot, and I despised how comforting it felt against my skin.

  As soon as I’d found my balance, I jerked away.

  He let me, dropping even his hand from my elbow. “Stay,” he ordered, and as I watched the light of his cell bounce down the hall in the opposite direction toward his bedroom, as I stayed in the place he’d left me, I wondered if that was how he’d speak to me from now on, with one word commands like I was a dog.

  It wouldn’t be quite so disgusting if I wasn’t compelled to obey.

  Curiosity. That was the only reason I was still there. And I needed a light. And even if I found my way to the kitchen on my own, I didn’t know where to find supplies and the search would be difficult without him.

  Without his cell phone, I corrected mentally. Because like hell was I relying on him for anything.

  He returned a short minute later, and, as soon as he did, I felt the warmth of a plush robe being wrapped around me. Despite myself, I thrust my arms through one hole then the other before allowing him to tie a knot securely at my waist. Impressive considering he was still holding his phone.

  When he’d bundled me up, he lingered, and, with the light pointing at me, I had the impression he was studying me, as he had earlier, as he did so often. Not for the first time, I wondered what he saw. What brought him back to look time and time again?

  And why did I hope he never stopped?

  I pulled away first, tugging the collar of the robe up to my nose to sniff. It smelled ordinary, like laundry detergent. Not like him. Not unlike him.

  “Is this yours?” I asked, unable to help myself, when what I really should have said was thank you.

  “No.” His answer came quickly, and he stirred into action, once again taking me at my elbow and leading me with him.

  My lips puckered into a pout that he couldn’t see. Not his robe. Whose robe, then? Why had it been in his room? Why did my ches
t burn at the thought that it was some other woman’s? A woman who he’d allowed into his bedroom, into his bed. Into his life.

  A woman he didn’t want to murder.

  It wasn’t jealousy. I refused to be jealous for the attention of someone who openly despised me. Just more curiosity.

  I would tell myself that as long as I had to. Maybe, eventually, I’d mean it.

  Once he’d pushed through the swinging door into the kitchen, he let me go and proceeded to the pantry, the light disappearing as he withdrew into the storeroom. There was one window in the room, but the blinds had been drawn leaving the space in near total darkness.

  As though reacting to the location, my stomach growled, reminding me of its empty state. There’d be something to snack on in the refrigerator, which wouldn’t have had enough time to warm up at this early point in the power outage. It was on the other side of the room, and would be easiest to get to if I waited until Edward returned with the light.

  But I was irritated at being abandoned and even more irritated at having to depend on anyone—that man in particular—so fuck waiting. Holding my hands out in front of me, I shuffled in the direction I thought made sense, only to stub my toe on the leg of the kitchen table.

  “Goddammit.” Even whispered, the curse was audible in the quiet.

  The pantry door swung swiftly open and the light found me bent over, rubbing the pain from my injury.

  Edward chuckled. “I suppose that’s my fault for not telling you to stay.”

  “Fuck you. I’m not your pet.” I let my foot fall with a thump.

  “No, a pet would have more sense than to bumble around in the dark.” Instead of returning to the pantry, he crossed over to the sink, the light spraying against the stainless steel. There the sound of tin met the counter as he set something down and then opened a drawer. Seconds later, a match was lit and then another, brighter flame, filled the room, the scent of kerosene in the air.

  He turned toward me, and now the hurricane lamp he’d found was in my view. “I have one in my bedroom. I can send this one with you when you go to bed. If you’d rather, I can find you a working flashlight. The batteries on the first couple I tried seem to have died. It’s been a while since we’ve needed to use them here. Usually the backup generator kicks in. I’ll have Louvens look at it in the morning.”

  “The lamp is fine,” I said, wrapping my arms around myself. The lamp illuminated the room quite well, and having grown accustomed to the safety of the dark, I felt suddenly exposed.

  “Fine. Then on to other business, which is...” He didn’t finish his sentence, crossing instead toward the refrigerator where he opened the door and pulled out a tray that he set on the counter by the lamp. He turned once more in my direction, gesturing to me with two fingers.

  I took an involuntary step toward him before stopping myself. He already thought I was at his beck and call. I most certainly wouldn’t respond to a hand gesture.

  He laughed again, a sound so quiet it was definitely for himself. “Come here, you obstinate creature,” he said, less of an order than anything else he’d said since the power had gone out. “I’m trying to feed you.”

  Too hungry to resist, I shuffled toward him, nodding at the tray he’d set out. “What is it?”

  “A charcuterie. Joette prepared it for our dinner.”

  Leaning my hip into the counter next to him, I studied the plate of food, my arms still crossed. “I thought you already ate what Joette left.”

  “I ate the sandwiches. I didn’t say that was all she’d left.” When I hesitated, he reached for a piece of roquefort. “It’s not poisonous. Shall I prove it?”

  He brought it to his mouth, and I had to bite back a smile. It was meant to be a joke, but I didn’t want to find him humorous. Especially not with a joke about killing me. It was too real.

  But I was starving. And the charcuterie looked amazing. And I was pretty sure he wasn’t going to kill me right now.

  I picked up a bunch of grapes and popped four in my mouth, one after another. Edward reached next for a slice of capicola, using the bamboo spreader to dab mustard on it. After he’d eaten it, he moved over to a cabinet and pulled out two wine glasses. It was my turn to study him as he easily found a corkscrew and a bottle of something burgundy. He had the sleeves of his linen shirt pushed up to his biceps, showing off the muscular landscape of his arms. He was stunning, really, every part of him. The furrow of his brow as he worked open the wine. The determined set of his jaw as he poured. The smooth glide as he returned with the glasses, handing one out to me.

  I took it, careful not to touch him as I did, ignoring the way my fingers ached to stretch out toward his. With my glass delivered, he lifted his own, nodding it first in my direction in a subtle toast before bringing it to his lips.

  My skin tingled underneath the safety of the robe as I watched the alluring tilt of his head followed by the bob of his throat as he swallowed.

  I looked away, taking my own quick sip and then setting the glass down to concentrate on what item I wanted to eat next.

  Or to pretend to concentrate.

  Absentmindedly, my fingers closed around a slice of manchego while my head swam in confusion. The robe, the lamp, the food, the wine—my husband had actively been caring for me in a way that made my knees weak. It was unlike the man I knew him to be on an ordinary day.

  That he was behaving this way so soon after threatening my life was nearly impossible to process.

  It felt wrong and surreal. Like the child being fattened up by the witch before she was thrown in the oven, except this time the child knew exactly what was happening from the onset.

  And the child was stupid enough to stay.

  I shook my head at myself and threw a butter cracker in my mouth. At least he was fattening me up with the good stuff.

  “Feeling better?” he asked, and though I’d been determined not to look at him for the last several minutes, I could tell he was watching me.

  “No,” I answered honestly. My hunger was abating, but my stomach still felt twisted.

  “What would make you feel better?”

  I couldn’t help it—my gaze flew back to his, wanting to see his expression to help read the subtext of his question.

  Of course his face gave nothing away.

  “Oh, I don’t know,” I said with dripping sarcasm. “Perhaps knowing my husband really wasn’t planning my funeral might be a nice start.”

  “The only one who can determine that is you.” He took another swallow of his wine, his eyes never leaving mine.

  “Right, right.” My body suddenly felt heavy. I hadn’t realized until that moment that I’d hoped the whole caretaking routine was evidence that his murder plan was a ruse. “You said you want to break me down. What the hell does that even mean? You want me to be your submissive? You want to inflict pain on me? What?”

  I popped another grape in my mouth and then pushed the tray away, having lost my appetite.

  Edward set his glass down but kept his hand on it, his thumb stroking the stem. “It’s not really a process that can be explained. There’s submission involved, yes. It’s often painful. It can be extremely satisfying as well.”

  “For you, you mean.”

  “Yes. For me.”

  I’d expected him to protest and try to convince me that there was pleasure in being dominated, blah blah blah. His answer instead, honest as it was, caused my breath to catch and the hair to lift at my neck. Was that what he wanted from me? Fear?

  He had it. Fuck him for that, but there was no use denying he had me scared.

  He must have read the apprehension in my face, and clever as he was, knew exactly how to counter it. With a challenge. “You thought you could endure it. Don’t you want to see if it’s true?”

  I did when there was a reward at the end. “What do I get out of it?”

  “You get to live.” His tone suggested it was stupid to ask. That I wasn’t in the place to be bartering. That he’d c
alled this a negotiation, but it was really only an offer and both choices he was giving were shitty.

  The insanity of it all suddenly hit me. “This is ridiculous. I'm not playing games with you. As soon as the sun is up, I’m out of here.”

  “You are?” He mimicked my pose, casually leaning his hip against the counter. “How do you plan to manage that? Can you man a boat? I’m pretty sure you don’t know how to fly a plane. Uber doesn't come out here. You’d better think twice if you think any of my staff is going to help you. With this storm and our location, it will be impossible to get cell service.”

  My insides felt hard and cold, the blood in my veins was ice. I was stuck here. I’d already been trapped into submission. I was helpless. A slave to his whims.

  This was real fear.

  I scanned the room, looking for a weapon, for something I could use against him.

  It was a subtle move of my eyes, but he read me like a book. “Do you know where the knives are kept?” His voice was low and ominous. “I do.”

  If I went for a drawer it would only be a guess. He’d get a hold of a knife before I did, and even if I managed to find the right drawer on the first try, he’d beat me there. He’d overpower me.

  I had no choice.

  But maybe I did. If I told Tom and Joette what Edward was doing to me, they’d surely help me.

  I wouldn’t be able to get to them until tomorrow though. “Can I have time to think?” I asked.

  “Think about if you want to live? Sure. I'm in no rush to snap that neck. It really is pretty.” He took a step toward me, and now he was close enough to trail his thumb down my neck, making me shudder. “But I doubt you're really looking for reasons to accept my offer and are instead looking for an escape. There isn't any way off my island.”

  Anger bloomed hot and new inside of me. He thought he knew everything? Thought he could guess every one of my moves? So he’d been right a few times...okay, a bunch of times, but that made me even more pissed off.

  Pissed off enough to poke the bear.

  “But maybe I'll kill you first,” I said, trying to ignore the pad of his thumb at the hollow of my neck. “Did you think about that?”