Chapter
30

The girl staring back at me in the mirror looked familiar—like a distant memory. Tempered by hazy fog and my wavering vision looking back, I knew she used to be me. Her hair fell around her shoulders in a layered bob, the dark strands highlighted here and there with strategically placed gold. Her lips were soft and dewy with a touch of pink to brighten them, and the stylist had blended warm chocolate into gold around her eyes. I searched her eyes. It was there I realized she and I were bonded. The experiences of my life had tarnished the beauty of hers. It was all in the eyes. Neither of us would ever be carefree again, and the knowledge made me want to cry. Tears clogged my throat, and my heart pounded frantically, abused by my silent wail.

I lifted my fingers to my cheek in awe. How could something so beautiful conceal the truth? I was a disgusting whore, and my life was the way it was because that was all I was good for. No matter how much I fought my fate, there was no other option for me. My destiny was affixed from the moment my father left and Jason laid eyes on me.

The air shifted, and I looked to my left in the mirror. Caesar, his hypnotic gaze on me, leaned over my shoulder. Side by side our features blended. We were a perfect balance of what was fucked up and abused in the word. He was strong and masculine, with rage and sorrow in his gaze. I was fragile beauty, housing the soul of a decrepit whore, with resignation and fear in my eyes. His gaze searched mine and I held nothing back. There was nothing I could hide. It wasn’t so much the girl in the mirror was still there as it was that she’d died. I’d died in that warehouse, even if my heart still beat. Lorcan had broken something irreplaceable inside of me, and I couldn’t regain it.

“Dress me however you want,” I whispered, “you’ll just make me messy later.”

Caesar leaned forward and slid his fingers over mine in her lap. His hot breath fanned my cheek as his musky cologne filled my nostrils. I hated it, but my body swelled for him. As his fingers intertwined with mine and he gripped me in a white-knuckle grip, fear and longing washed over me. How could he do this to me? My body, a traitor despite all the pain it had been through, leaned toward him, sucked up his heat. His soft lips traced over my pulse, a threat and command, and, God help me, but I shifted my head to the side to give him access as I inhaled and my eyes slid to half-mast. I watched through my lashes as his tongue snaked out and tasted my flesh. His beard tickling the sensitive skin on my back, I shuddered.

“Yes. I’m going to make you dirty, Ash, and you’re going to let me. You’re going to want it. If I put my fingers to your pussy right now, will I find you wet?”

“Yes, because I’m a dirty whore,” I answered honestly.

He clenched his fist tighter, and I swallowed my cry. His body took up the mirror as he stepped closer and crowded around me. My heart pounded and my mouth went dry. Each breath was more difficult than the last, and I shrank away from him as best I could.

“I’m sorry. Please don’t hurt me. I’m sorry.”

“Fuck.”

His terse reply rang around me as he pulled me to my feet and dragged me from the salon. He paid no mind to the stylist as she watched us worriedly. I didn’t have the heart to reassure her. It was exactly what it looked like, and I wasn’t safe, but there was no stopping Caesar or men like him. They took and took, not giving back a single ounce.

That’s a lie.

I ignored my wayward thought and let Caesar pull me into the car. He said something to Franco, but I didn’t pay it any attention. People lied when they said knowing what was coming made it easier. It didn’t. Anticipation of the event worked the mind and muscles into a frenzy until you couldn’t think of anything else. And you couldn’t be prepared for the pain. Even when you knew it was coming, the shock of it never ceased to amaze. So why know about something I couldn’t be ready for? It was better to know pain would come, I would scream and cry, and maybe I would survive. That was all I could hope for.

But Caesar saved me.

He did, but he’d saved me for his own pleasure. He took me in the hospital bed, snatched me from the comforting darkness, and he wanted more from me now. I thought I’d learned about being careful what I wished for, but I hadn’t. At the end, when I thought all Lorcan had done to me had finally killed me, I’d wished for Caesar. I wished for him to be by my side. I wanted to see his face one final time before I died. I’d asked for it; instead, I’d gotten much more than I could handle. I’d gained back my life and would swallow more pain.

When the car stopped, we were not back at the high-rise where Caesar had his penthouse. Instead, glittering stores sparkled in the fading sunlight. I recognized Collins Avenue from Miami Beach drives, but I didn’t know where we were.

My confusion must have shown on my face because Caesar spoke. “We’re on a barrier island north of Miami Beach. These are the Bal Harbour Shops,” he said, pointing to a shop with gold cursive lettering. “Santoni just opened their shop here this year. You will get your heels here. Then we’ll go to Escada and Prada for your clothing.”

Franco opened the door as Caesar looked over at me expectantly. It wasn’t until I looked down that I realized he held out his hand. He didn’t belong here, among the rich and famous, dressed in a graphic white t-shirt, open vest, black jeans, and Converse. His tidy beard and wild hair marked him as a man from the outskirts. His visible tattoos belied the upscale shops he wanted to walk into beside me. But, as he slid on dark circle sunglasses, I realized this was his world.

Franco waited without saying a word. Further behind him, at the entrance to the shop, a saleswoman waited with a smile on her face. They waited for Caesar, this man who didn’t belong. This murderer who’d made the city run red to find me. The madman who could have everyone in the vicinity obliterated with the snap of a finger.

And he waited for me.

With an odd sense of power and fear, I took his hand. A disarming smile curled his lips as he exited the car with me. When he tucked me against his shoulder, I wrapped my arms around his waist, knowing that was what he wanted, but it left me confused. It was reminiscent of the time so long ago in the warehouse. When he’d taken me on our first date and helped me kill the demons roaring inside of me. Now, he escorted me into an exclusive shop, the scent of leather and fresh fauna from outside peppering the air. So many colors, shoes, and handbags. I didn’t know what to choose, or even where to look.

He sat on a chair in the center of the store and pulled me into his lap. “You’re quiet, Ash. I thought women liked shopping.”

I shrugged, unsure how to answer.

He pinched my chin between two hard fingers and turned my head toward him. “I’m not good with the silent treatment. And I’m not above bending your ass over, right now, and fucking you in the middle of this place. Don’t test me.”

I swallowed hard.

Fucked up. I was so fucked up. Part of me wanted him to do it, to show me the pleasure we shared before. But so much of me feared the pain, too. I trembled and clenched my thighs, unsure of which way to go. When he touched me I couldn’t think, I couldn’t argue. It bewildered me, and I hated it.

“I never could,” I told him finally.

“Never could what?” he asked.

“Never could shop. All my clothes came as hand-me-downs from my mother.”

His nostrils flared, and that same time, a wild, crazy look in his eyes confused me. He cocked his head to the side, his fingers bruising my chin. “What did you say?”

“I never bought clothing. When I got to college … Jason wanted me in things he demanded, so I wore them, or he’d hurt Matt.”

Caesar glared at me and called the saleswoman over with his free hand.

“Yes, sir?”

He pulled a black credit card from his wallet. “I want her to have shoes for daytime, casual, night, and couture. Add the other stuff a woman needs,” Caesar stated. “And you will pick every one of them,” he directed toward me.

I swallowed as he turned me in his lap so my back was to him and my feet were between his. The saleswoman—Frida, her nametag said—knelt and put a curved metal plate with a ruler under my feet. She fiddled with the sides and length until she stood triumphantly.

“A size six and a half. I have a few things to show her to get a sense of her style.”

She brought out box after box, each one a different look, and Caesar never said a word. He remained a quiet watchman as I relaxed enough to enjoy the shoes in front of me. Stilettos, wedges, pumps, and even platforms—I saw them all. I found I liked higher heels and could walk in them easily enough. Wedges felt too clunky, and the platforms, while very pretty, changed my stride. I lifted my leg, admiring a salmon-colored stiletto on my foot.

Caesar moved for the first time, his big hands tracing down my thighs as he pulled me tighter against him. “A woman after my own heart,” he whispered in my ear.

His cock pulsed thick and hard under me, and I sucked in a breath. I remembered his threat, the chance to be fucked, right there, right then, and I wasn’t so sure I was completely terrified. In the relaxed state he’d lulled me into, I felt almost normal. His heated skin against mine warmed me in places I thought were too damage to feel anymore.

“Keep those,” he demanded.

They were mine from the moment he spoke. I flushed, and heat crept up my neck and across my face. He still had that strange power over me—he could still make me want things I shouldn’t—and it confused me.

But before I could sort anything out, he sat back, releasing me. “She’ll take them all. Have them all stowed in the back of the car waiting outside. We’ll be on to the next shop.”

Caesar stood as she charged his card and brought it back to him. Then he gripped my hand and pulled me from the store.

“Franco, make sure everything makes it to the trunk.”

Franco nodded and went into the store, but Caesar was already pulling me away. The salmon heels he loved so much clicked on the sidewalk as I hurried to keep up with him. He looked right and left and turned around corners until he reached the destination he sought. I caught a glimpse of the Escada sign before he dragged me inside.

“Good evening, sir,” another saleswoman greeted us. She smiled at me, but her gaze was immediately riveted on Caesar. She swallowed as her eyes widened delicately. “C-can I help you?”

I wanted to scratch her eyes out, to bash her head into the ground and watch all the pretty blood splatter over these dresses I could only dream off. I curled my fist, digging my nails into Caesar’s palm. She stepped a bit closer to him, as if mesmerized, and he glanced down at our hands, then my face, then back at our hands. Whatever he saw made him smile.

“A fitting room, and then, a dress that will match these shoes,” he ordered.

She blinked as if coming out of a fog, noticing me again. Bitch. The rage felt good. I preferred it to the feeling of falling, of terror and helplessness. So I reached for it, wrapping it around me like a cloak until I stood taller, and looked down my nose at her.

“Is there some reason you haven’t moved yet?” I hissed.

“I’m s-sorry. R-right this way,” she stammered.

“Temper, temper,” Caesar said, his voice low.

She led us to the back of the store and pulled the curtain. On one wall was a large mirror behind a raised platform and a comfortable chair in front. Caesar sat down as I stood on the platform. After some measurements, the woman left to find clothing, making sure not to look at Caesar again.

“Are you jealous?” he asked.

“No,” I lied.

I couldn’t be jealous. I shouldn’t want him. I shouldn’t want any of this.

He stood slowly and stepped up on the platform, saying nothing as he stalked around me. Then he gripped my neck in an unbreakable hold and smacked my ass hard with his free hand.

“Don’t fucking lie to me.”

I whimpered, the hot pain sliding down my body. His grip kept me from running, from sinking to my knees and begging for forgiveness. He kept me standing, my head held high and my feet firmly on the ground. He smacked me again, the slap echoing around us. Heat flared once more, but it didn’t buckle my knees.

“Good girl,” he whispered in my ear.

My pussy wept.

It throbbed and grew soft at his voice. At the pain he gave me, on the edge of too much but enough to make me feel it. When was the last time I’d felt this sense of urgency? The need to be handled roughly so I could feel good? He stalked away from me and sat back down just as our helper returned with a few items. The first two dresses, one an asymmetric piece in powder blue, and the second a standard black tea-length with an embellished neckline. Caesar ordered them to be packed up and added to my growing collection of items. Then she pulled out a colorful sleeveless dress that fell just above my knees. Each thin stripe was a different tone, from white to salmon, like my heels. The horizontal design was breathtaking and simple.

“Leave that one on. We’ll buy it. If you can handle selecting ten more dresses along this line, I’ll purchase them as well. I expect to not be disappointed with the choices,” Caesar said to her.

“Y-yes, sir.”

I curled my lip at her. When she left, she didn’t close the curtains all the way. I watched her pace around the store, casting glances over her shoulder at Caesar every few seconds. I boiled.

“Are you jealous, Ash?” Caesar asked again.

Remembering the sting in my ass, I didn’t lie. “Yes.”

He smiled, warming me from the soles of my feet to the tips of my hair. “Good.”

He stood from the chair and stuffed his hands in his pocket, and I could see the imprint of his cock against the material of his jeans. Did he want her? Was he attracted to the unbroken bitch?

“She’s not dirty,” I whispered.

“No. And I like my women filthy,” he countered. “Do you want to show me how dirty you are?”

I swallowed, unable to answer him. If I were filthy, he may want me, but what he’d want would hurt me. I didn’t want to be broken anymore, didn’t want to be battered. And yet, when he glared at me, his mouth in a hard line, I wondered if I did. If, somewhere inside, that’s exactly what I wanted—a man who knew how to pull back before I shattered and choked on my own blood. I stared at him, tears filling my eyes. I didn’t know. I just didn’t fucking know.

So he chose for me.

“Come here and bend over. Grip the back of the chair, and let me fuck you where she might hear. Let her see me fucking you and know her pretty sunshine ain’t shit.”

I stumbled off the platform to the chair. God, I breathed a sigh of relief as I did as he’d instructed, when I felt his hands frame my ass before lifting the hem of my brand-new dress.

“I’m going to get you messy, Ash. And then we’re going to finish shopping.”