Chapter
14

Dressed in stretchy black yoga pants, a red, long-sleeved racer-back, and a smart, black Pea coat Sean had procured from I don’t know where, I sat next to Caesar in the backseat of a dark-maroon Rolls Royce Phantom. The plush leather seats had temperature-controlled settings Caesar had put on toasty. I had no idea what he did for a living, besides killing people on a whim, but I thought perhaps drugs were involved since he’d dealt with Trace. Still, the cabin, with its rustic flair and low maintenance furniture, hadn’t prepared me for this obvious show of wealth. The material of my clothes felt scratchy against my skin after going so long wearing little to nothing. But Caesar rested comfortably, his long arm slung over the back of the seat, in white distressed jeans, a black graphic t-shirt, and white flight jacket with the sleeves pushed up. I wondered at his age. I’d seen guys around my college dressed like him, but he didn’t come across as being in his early twenties like me. His beard aged him, maybe.

“How old are you?” I asked.

He was quiet for a few moments as the forest streaked by on either side of the tinted car. A thick, black window separated us in the back from where Sean drove in the front. Even sitting next to him, I felt small, with my head resting on his shoulder. Caesar looked down at me for a moment before he reached into the small fridge tucked to the right of the car and pulled out a beer.

“Would you like one?” he asked.

I shook my head, unsure of what would come where we were going. I knew better than to scream or try to escape. The car ate up the road at breakneck speed, and Caesar had already warned me that where we were going, he ruled the streets with an iron fist. It wouldn’t take long for someone to find me.

“Suit yourself,” he said before popping the top on the side of the fridge and taking a swig. “But I’m twenty-eight. What does it matter?”

“I just wondered.”

“Hm.”

He took another swig of his beer and then turned my face toward his. His cold lips pressed against mine, and I opened them on reflex. Cold, hops-filled beer poured into my mouth and over my tongue. The bitter bite rushed over my senses before it warmed to a sweet taste at the back of my throat.

“Good shit, huh? Red Stripe. I get it imported directly to keep the flavor,” he said as he pulled back.

I swirled the beer around in my mouth before I swallowed. “It’s bitter.”

“A bit. But the aftertaste is sublime.”

I didn’t know how to respond. My captor’s actions made no sense. One moment he forced me to have sex on a wooden table, pain spiraling through my body, the next he tore down the very people who’d made my life miserable. He’d fucked my mouth, holding my nose until I died. But he’d brought me to life, hot breath filling my lungs, and the way he made me feel—the raw pleasure he forced on my nerve-endings—still echoed through my bloodstream. Weeks later, I still didn’t know how to assimilate what we’d done. What he did to me. I furrowed my brow and looked down at my clenched hands. Who was Caesar St. Clair? If the weeks before hadn’t happened, I could imagine the two of us traveling back home after a visit to some remote location for much-needed time alone. His fingers traced circles on my left shoulder as he looked out the window while he continued to drink his beer.

For the first time, not driven to flight by pain and fear, I really looked at him. His eyes darted back and forth, constantly scanning, and I wondered if for him the cabin was a refuge as much as it had been a place of hell for me. I remembered the words traced on his hip and, in the quiet between us, those words were sad. If not me, then who? I didn’t know how to answer that tattooed question. I couldn’t keep looking at him.

“I let Pussy Boy off the hook.”

His voice startled me, and my gaze swung to his profile. He never looked at me.

“Why?”

He didn’t answer me. He’d let Matt go. At least he’d be safe. Still, other than the relief that Matt wouldn’t be harmed on account of me, no other emotion pushed forward. Not even regret.

“I never should have been with him,” I said, more to myself, but Caesar looked at me.

“Then why were you?”

“Because he could help me get away. I had a chance at a life with him, a chance to save Tamara.”

Caesar scoffed. “Fucking stupid. He couldn’t find his way out of a paper bag. Soon as someone bigger than him wanted you, you’d have been gone.”

“Normal life isn’t filled with people like that.”

“That’s where you’re wrong, Ash. There’s always someone bigger who wants what you have. Or a sniveling little shit who’s conniving enough to steal it.”

“Is that what happened to you?”

“I don’t let it happen to me. Not anymore.”

“Not anymore?”

He ignored me. A feeling coursed down my spine, hot and freezing at the same time. For years, I’d held on to the dream that my money would save me when I was old enough. I’d be able to disappear, and my family would never have been able to find me. That Tamara would get the life she’d always deserved at my side. I’d have enough money to buy a house in another country, and I’d survive the storm of my photos going live if Trace followed through with the threat to make the images they’d taken of me public. When I met Matt, I wanted, so desperately, to be normal. I didn’t want to live my life for someone else forever, and I thought Matt’s gentle nature would ensure I’d never be hurt again. I let myself fall into the chance to have what I’d always been denied.

Matt, with his easy smile, soft hands, and patient manner, soothed my fear of men and gave me hope for a future. I clung to him, even when the feelings I should have felt for him never developed. I thought if I held on long enough, if I acted hard, I’d eventually feel all the emotions he needed from me. But every day, in the back of my mind, I hated the very thing that made me attracted to him. Why couldn’t he kiss me, even when I said no? Why didn’t he demand I have sex to satisfy his cravings?

Part of me, despite the ways I tried to keep it from happening, craved the fucked-up way Jason had twisted me. I’d masturbated, holding Matt’s image tightly in my memory, only to find my orgasm stayed just out of reach until Jason’s face exploded into my mind. The more he hurt me, the more I loved it. I was full of shit and poison, and I never wanted Matt to know that. I never wanted anyone to see the sick side of me.

And then Caesar came for me.

I feared his control. I didn’t want to be held captive by anyone. But his touch set me on fire as much as it disgusted me. I closed my eyes and sighed. Finally, I’d admit to myself that when he took me on that warehouse floor he’d burned away anyone who’d come before him. As hard as I tried to deny it, the proof of it splashed behind my eyes when I slept in my cage. I saw Jason’s blood all over me, and I liked it. I liked the power I’d felt in those few moments. I mourned the death of the normal girl in me who never had a chance to survive. But I wasn’t stupid. Belonging to Caesar wouldn’t bring me happiness, either. The longer I stayed by his side, the more my death was assured. But in the grand scheme of things, what choice did I have?

“City limits, Caesar.”

Sean’s voice filtered into the cab, ripping me from my thoughts. I looked out the window and was surprised to see we’d traveled much further than I’d thought. Valdosta was in the lower side of Georgia, but I hadn’t recognized the forested area where the cabin was.

“Take off the coat, Ash. It’ll be hot here.”

In shock, I pulled off my coat as we cruised along Le Jeune Road.

“We’re in Miami, Florida?” I squeaked.

Caesar grinned at me. “Brickell, actually. Welcome to the high life.”

I slid over and gripped the side of the door as I watched Miami open up before me. Music pumped, a heavy Spanish reggae beat, but I didn’t know where it came from. Cerulean skies, fast cars, and gleaming, high-rise buildings took my breath away. I’d never been to Miami before, having not been allowed to leave Georgia because of Trace, but I’d heard about a bunch of kids heading down for Ultra Music Festival. I’d craved to see the music, the concerts, and artists during the week-long rave with live DJs from around the world. I wanted to be the girl who could travel to Coral Gables for the University of Miami games. But it never happened. Valdosta was as far as I could be away from Trace and Jason at any given time. I realized I was hogging the window, catching every glimpse of Miami I could.

I wasn’t on some sight-seeing event.

Caesar’s hard body stopped me as I tried to scramble away from the window. His hard fingers twined with mine and put them back against the car door.

“See that tall building over there? The Santos? That’s mine.”

I shook as his hot breath raced over my cheek. “I don’t want to see it.” I didn’t. I didn’t want to be reminded of what I’d lost and how my life continued to spiral.

Caesar pressed his fingers between mine, pinching the soft flesh in the center. He crowded me against the car door, forcing my face to the pane so I couldn’t look away. “I’m giving you Miami, Ash. It belongs to me, just like you.”

His voice, low and soft, held a note of … something. Care? Affection? I couldn’t grasp it, but it sank into my skin. My battered fucking head soaked it up, craving it. Sharp spice and cologne, a thumping heart, and a rock-hard frame against my softer one, held me suspended. Pieces clicked and forced themselves into place, but the way my heart tripped was dangerous.

“It doesn’t matter,” I whispered. “Nothing has changed,” I told myself.

“Oh, but it has, sweet Ash. You’re the first pet I’ve ever brought back here.”

Pet.

I closed my eyes and bit the inside of my lip until it bled. I was a dog, one he could beat and abuse with the expectation I’d always want his touch. I felt the threat, the promise.

“Look at the fucking high-rise,” he demanded.

I felt tears prick my eyes as I forced myself to do what he said. The same. The same fucking darkness. And that sick wetness between my legs.

“That will be your new home. That two million from daddy? You paid for a life-long stay at Casa de St. Clair, and you’re going to love it. Want to know what else you won?”

Forget it all. About every second I wondered about this man. About the times I wondered if he could be something different. Something more.

“Ask me what you won,” he told me, his fingers clenching painfully around mine.

“What have I won, Caesar?”

“Me. You’ve won me.”