LILIANA STARED AT the ceiling, and wondered what time it was. How many days had she been in this goddamn room now? She couldn’t be sure—the guard assigned to her door only opened it once a day to throw two bottles of water inside, and then he promptly closed and locked it up again.
He never said a word.
Never even looked at her.
She couldn’t tell how many days it had been by the rising or setting sun considering the windows in the bedroom were boarded up, too. She suspected it must have been at least two days, but probably three or more if she were going on the amount of times the guard had opened the door to give her water.
If that’s what they called throwing the bottles at her.
She’d fallen asleep twice.
The second time, Rich had been watching her from the doorway when she woke up. His gaze had raked over her, and the absolute and total fear that climbed up her throat in those moments was enough for her to know … Liliana fucking swore she wouldn’t sleep again after that.
It made her vulnerable.
Weak.
Liliana sucked in a deep breath, and exhaled slowly as she kept her gaze on the ceiling. Next to finishing off the last bit of her water—she only drank in small sips instead of gulping it down like her body wanted to do—her rhythmic breathing was the only damn thing keeping her awake, and her mind away from the pains in her stomach.
Aching, panging pain.
She was starving like nothing else.
Liliana refused to ask for food, though. She wouldn’t shout, cry, or scream. And she most definitely was not going to beg at the door.
Something told her that was exactly what Rich wanted more than anything. To hear her pain, and terror. Then, he might think he had broken her.
She was far from broken.
It was only the murmurs outside the door that dragged Liliana’s attention away from her current task of distracting her mind. Her mind said it was closing in on the time when the guard would open the door, and throw in more water, but she wondered if that was just her body envisioning what it needed, and not what actually was.
It was hard to fucking say.
And then …
Shit.
And then she heard Rich’s voice clearer when he said, “It’s been a while—let’s see if she’s more compliant today, hmm?”
Liliana shivered.
Disgust rolled heavily through her body. Dread climbed up her spine with hard, punishing steps. Her hands balled in fists so tight that her fingernails nearly broke the skin, and her throat tightened with the promise of closing up entirely, so she wouldn’t be able to speak at all.
Somehow, she managed to shove all of those reactions down. She was not going to let Rich see her fear—he wanted that. She was sure of it.
Once the door was finally opened, Liliana had already turned her head back toward the ceiling, so she was staring at anything but Rich. Still, his presence was a tangible fucking thing whenever he was within seeing distance of Liliana. Like her nerves and blood and heart were all screaming at the same time for her to run, run, run.
She had nowhere to run.
Not right now.
“Liliana, darling, how are you doing? Hungry, I bet.”
His voice came off like brown sugar, and black coffee. Sweet, warm, and bitter.
She saw his comforting tone for what it was, and nothing more. Trickery to try and make her trust him, but she was far from fucking stupid.
“Liliana!” Rich’s shout practically slapped her in the back of the head. “Speak to me!”
Fine.
“Hungry,” she admitted.
“Are you in a better mood today?”
How quickly and smoothly he went back to his previous demeanor and tone. Nice, comforting, and promising.
Liliana still wasn’t stupid.
“A little,” she said.
She only kept talking to—at the very least—keep Rich from shouting at her. She knew what his shouts would lead to, and it was nothing good for her. He was vicious, and unpredictable. All of this had taught her that, frankly.
Somehow, Liliana needed to get out of this place, and get out alive. So, if that meant she had to play along with Rich’s dumb fucking games for a little while, then that’s exactly what it meant.
Surely, she could play along.
Even if it killed her.
Liliana turned to glance at Rich, but was surprised to find he had already come to stand practically right beside her. In fact, his hand was reaching out to touch her. She had all she could do not to stiffen when his fingers drifted through her dirty blonde hair to sift the strands between his fingertips.
“I hated when you cut those few inches off your hair,” he murmured.
Jesus.
That was six months ago or more.
“I had some split ends,” she lied.
Really, she had just needed a change.
“You’ll let it grow out again for me, won’t you?”
Her throat tightened.
No.
“Of course, Rich.”
“That’s my sweet girl.”
Fuck you, you—
As though Rich could read her goddamn mind, his fingers grabbed tight to the hair at the base of Liliana’s skull before he tipped her head back, and forced them both to stare at one another in the eyes. She couldn’t look away from him while a snake-like smile slid over his lips, and his gaze drifted down her face, over her throat, and down her shirt where the neckline was cut with a deep V.
The disgust was back.
So was the rage.
The sting in her scalp made her eyes prickle with the promise of tears, but Liliana held them back. She wouldn’t even let this asshole see her eyes glisten. He would get too much enjoyment out of it, frankly.
“You need a good change of clothes, some time to work on that face of yours, and probably a shower, too,” Rich murmured.
Liliana nodded. “All of that sounds good.”
To say the least.
It would likely get her away from him, too. She was not going to complain about that, either. The more time she got to herself while outside of this damn room, the more likely it was that she could figure a fucking away out.
“That could be arranged if you continue to behave,” Rich said.
Liliana offered him a small smile.
It was the best she could do.
“Why wouldn’t I behave, Rich?”
“You know, when you look like this, I am almost willing to believe anything you say, Lilibet.”
That fucking nickname again. The nickname meant for a queen, but one she didn’t want at all. She had to swallow her desire to tell him to stop using it … again.
“But then I remember you’re still the same whore you were a week ago,” Rich continued on, seemingly oblivious to Liliana’s internal struggle, “and I can’t possibly believe anything you say or do.”
Liliana stiffened.
He grinned again. “Try not to think I’m stupid, girl.”
“I don’t.”
Far from it.
“Good.”
His murmur was followed by his lips crashing down on hers. The move was unexpected, and Liliana had all she could do not to push him away. She couldn’t hide the way her lips twisted in a cringe when Rich’s tongue forced its way into her mouth, or how her instincts made her try to back away from the kiss.
Wrong move.
She knew it was wrong the second she did it. She saw the anger flash brightly in Rich’s eyes when he realized she wasn’t responding the way he wanted her to. The apology was already on the tip of Liliana’s tongue, but it was too late.
There was nothing she could do to make this better. No excuse she could use to distract him from the fact his kiss was the very last thing she wanted.
He disgusted her.
She couldn’t pretend.
Not even to save her life, apparently.
Rich pulled back just enough to hiss at her, “Kiss me, Lilibet.”
“I—”
“Kiss me, now.”
He didn’t offer her the chance to refuse him again, instead kissing her again without warning. This time, he let go of her hair, and grabbed her arms. She found herself dragged onto that bare, thin mattress on the floor with Rich’s heavy body forcing its way between her legs.
No, no, no.
He was hard already.
His erection there already.
No, no, fucking no.
Liliana was not a weak woman—her strength came from years of ballet training, and she was more than capable of fighting back. And yet, all her efforts to get Rich off her were quickly shut down when he pinned her arms above her head with one hand while his other one slipped between her legs.
Still, he kissed her.
Touched her.
She had pants on, sure, but they would only last as long as she could keep them on. They certainly didn’t stop Rich from rubbing his hand against her vagina, and they didn’t seem to keep his erection from grinding along her thigh.
If anything, her fighting only seemed to spur him on even more.
The pig.
“Get off me,” Liliana hissed.
She bit him, then.
It was the last thing she could think of, really.
Probably the wrong move, considering the rage that flooded his features when he pulled back with a bleeding lip. But it got him away from her for a spit second.
And then he was right back again.
With a closed fist.
His punch landed hard against the side of her head—right at her temple. For a split second, Liliana’s gaze blacked out as she saw stars. By the time she was able to regain some of her vision and focus again, Rich was pushing away from her, and getting up from the mattress on the floor.
“I see you still need more time in here,” he muttered, fixing his suit jacket.
No.
Not more time.
Not in here.
She needed to figure something out, and fast. She needed to get the hell out of this room today.
“I’ll be good,” Liliana heard herself say, “Please.”
He hesitated at the door.
She knew the begging would do it.
Predictable bastard.
“Fine,” Rich snapped, “then get dressed, fix your face, and find me downstairs. Don’t even think to pull some stunt, Liliana. It will not end well for you. I promise.”
“Are you just about finished?”
Liliana ignored the guard standing in the doorway of the bathroom. He hadn’t even left the spot when she stepped into the shower using only a towel to hide her nakedness. Now, she was fully dressed, and taking her sweet time to paint her lips a stark, bright red.
“I know you are not deaf,” the man spat.
Liliana rolled her eyes. “No, I’m not done yet.”
And she wouldn’t be for a few more minutes.
At least.
The longer she could stay out of Rich’s sight, the better. Even if that meant taking extra time and care to get ready. She usually wouldn’t put this much effort into her makeup and clothes, but hell, a good face could take an hour to put on.
She used that to her advantage.
It was almost fucking creepy the time and effort Rich had put into getting this place ready for her, and making sure she had everything she might want or need. Including jewelry, and makeup. Clothes, shoes, bags, and more. Anything and everything that she might need to look beautiful and appropriate for Rich was in the bedroom, connecting walk-in closet, and attached master bathroom.
Right down to the right shade of foundation.
Yeah, creepy.
“All right, that’s enough,” the man at the door grumbled. “You’re just fucking around now, and the boss won’t appreciate it.”
The boss?
Liliana couldn’t contain her scoff as she moved past the man. “Yeah, sure.”
“Excuse me?”
“Rich doesn’t know what being a boss is, but you know, he signs your paycheck, so.”
“Be careful,” the man said at her back, “because he won’t appreciate you saying something like that. I’m sure you already know this considering the bruise I just watched you spend an hour covering on the side of your face.”
Liliana’s heart stuttered.
Yeah.
There was that, too.
This was going to be harder than she thought.
The guard—who Liliana couldn’t even be bothered to ask his name—directed her through the long hallways of the mansion, and down two flights of stairs. They were headed back through a hallway she recognized from first arriving that would lead to the dining room. The voices filtering down from the space made her slow in her steps a bit.
The guard didn’t seem to notice.
Thankfully.
“This is concerning,” someone said. “Why aren’t you listening?”
“I am listening,” Rich barked, “but it’s not enough for me to think there’s something happening, or—”
“Trevor isn’t answering calls, and your mother? She hasn’t made a statement in days. Something is happening, or it already has, Rich. You’re messing with the wrong people, and I warned you. I fucking warned you.”
“Then leave,” Rich said simply.
“I beg your pardon?”
“Leave. Heed your empty warnings, and leave.”
“Boss—”
“Leave.”
Liliana stepped into the entryway of the large dining room at the same time a man she hadn’t seen before rushed out of it. He knocked into her on his way out the door, but mumbled a quiet, quick apology under his breath before he beat it down the hall.
“Fucking idiot,” Rich grumbled under his breath. And then, at the sight of Liliana in the entryway, his wide, welcoming smile returned. All lies. “And look at you.”
Liliana suppressed her shudder at the way his eyes raked over her. “Good evening.”
Her gaze drifted to the window to see the sun was setting. Evening seemed appropriate.
Rich looked past her to the guard standing behind Liliana. “Thank you for making sure she wore a dress, and you can go now.”
“You sure, boss?”
“Leave us.”
With two words, the guard scattered.
Rich waved a hand at Liliana, and then gestured at the table where a spread of food had been set out. Her stomach threatened to revolt on her at the sight of the food. Like she was so fucking hungry that just the sight of the food was enough to make her get on her knees and beg like a foolish girl.
No.
She wouldn’t.
She refused.
Rich smiled again. “Would you like to eat?”
“I could eat,” she replied quietly.
“Then, sit and eat, but I don’t want to hear you while you do it.”
At that statement, he pulled out a newspaper from his lap, and opened it up to read. His gaze didn’t even follow her as she moved to the table, and sat down.
What is happening?
“I have a gift for you,” Rich said.
Liliana had been all too aware that about half way through her plate, Rich had started watching her again. The feeling was unnerving, but she pushed through and finished her meal. She certainly hadn’t forgotten how the man used to point out every extra calorie Liliana shoved inside her mouth.
The world of ballet and dancers was already toxic enough for a young woman struggling with her body image and weight. Although, Liliana had never gone that far, thankfully—she had managed to find a man who was just as bad. Rich had nearly introduced her to the vile relationship that was an eating disorder during their time together, but somehow, it was the one thing Liliana never got trapped in with him.
Or maybe he just hadn’t gotten enough time with her.
Who was to say?
“Do you want your gift?” he asked.
“Sure,” she said.
Her mind screamed, Fuck no.
Rich stood from his chair, and pulled a small pale pink box with a white bow from the seat next to his. Liliana hadn’t even seen it resting there, but then again, she had been far too caught up in shoving food into her mouth.
Who could blame her?
Coming close enough to stand right beside her seat, making it impossible for Liliana to do anything but sit there like an expressionless doll who wouldn’t displease him, Rich set the box in front of her, and moved her plate away.
“Go on,” he urged, “open it.”
Yay.
Liliana tugged the bow from the box, and then flipped open the lid. Resting inside on white tissue paper was a pair of brand new pointe shoes. The soft satin ribbons and firm soles of the shoes felt like heavy weights when she plucked them out of the box.
Heavier than they should have been.
She loved dance.
Ballet was everything good for her. An escape that very little else provided for her in life. An accomplishment that was solely hers. Something she worked so very hard for, and was proud to say she had mastered.
And this man was going to ruin it for her.
He was going to destroy ballet for her.
She knew it.
“I was hoping you would dance for me,” he murmured.
Liliana wet her lips—find a lie. “These are new shoes, Rich. They would kill my feet—they should be broken in, at the very least.”
“Then break them in while you dance for me.”
She closed her eyes.
Searched for an excuse.
Anything; something.
She couldn’t.
“Right now, in fact,” he said, “so, let’s go.”
He didn’t allow her the chance to protest before he’d grabbed her arm, and pulled her up from the chair. She said nothing, and kept feeling that heavy weight in her hands as she looked over the shoes.
It felt like those hallways passed far too quickly, and in the next blink, Liliana was sitting on the studio floor in front of the row of barres to slip on the pointe shoes. She took her time tying the ribbons around her ankles and calves.
Perfect knots, like she had been taught.
Flexing her toes, to test the comfort.
“I should stretch a bit,” she said faintly.
Across the room, Rich shook his head. “No, dance.”
Of course.
Liliana dragged in a heavy breath as she stood, and began the few steps to a simple dance that wouldn’t put too much pressure on her, and didn’t require her to be en pointe for the majority of the moves. The shoes really did need to be broken in, and she did not want to break her goddamn toes in the process.
“Stop,” Rich muttered thickly.
Liliana did instantly.
Turning, she found him staring at her with narrowed eyes. “What?”
“Not that dance—I want you to do another.”
Her heart clenched.
“Which one?”
“The one from the time we first met—when I saw your show. That one. Do that one, Liliana.”
“I—”
“Do it!”
Jesus Christ.
“All right,” she whispered.
Back straight.
Legs tight.
Toes pointed.
Arms like wings.
Breathe in, and exhale slowly.
It was easier for her to hear her own voice in her head when she danced then because it kept her mind off the man across the room. Problem was, the dance he wanted her to do made her fucking feet scream in protest. She needed her shoes for this—not brand new ones that were too stiff, and difficult to move properly in.
“Shit,” Liliana hissed, dropping out of her en pointe pirouette, and barely catching herself before she hit the floor. “Sorry, sorry.”
She apologized out of habit.
Not for him, but because she fucked up a move.
A move she knew, and could execute perfectly with the right shoes.
“Get up and start again,” Rich said. “I’ve seen you do this dance perfectly, so I know you can. Stop wasting my time, and stop whining. Wipe the scowl off your face, and smile for me like you give a damn.”
“I can’t,” Liliana mumbled.
“Get up!”
“I can’t dance in these shoes, Rich!”
“Or you don’t want to, Lilibet.”
“Stop calling me that!”
Her scream was as good as a slap, if the expression on his face was any indication. She should have known better, frankly, but she had been keeping that in for too long now.
He crossed the space in a blink, and Liliana didn’t even have time to cover her head before he was attacking her. He didn’t hit her, though. And maybe that’s what was most surprising, and horrifying when he did abuse her.
No.
No hitting.
He stomped on her fucking foot.
Liliana doubled over in pain with a shout, and grabbed her foot. She swore she heard the crunch, and a sob caught in her chest when she realized trying to move two of her toes did nothing but cause immeasurable pain.
Vomit climbed high in her throat.
Fury saturated her.
“You bastard, you—”
He did hit her that time, but he didn’t even give her the opportunity to cover her head for the next hit before he was dragging her up from the ground. He said nothing as he pulled her—despite her clearly broken foot, and the obvious pain she was in—toward the door.
“Let me go,” Liliana cried.
“Time for you to learn, Lilibet. I have been very patient with you, but I am not waiting one more goddamn minute. We could have done this the easy way, and you could have just given it to me, but now … I see that won’t be the case.”
“Let me—”
They were almost to the stairs, now.
She heard the first shot.
Gunshot.
And then the second.
One came from the front of the house, and the second, from the back.
Rich’s head snapped back and forth, but his blank expression never changed.
“What was that?” Liliana asked.
He didn’t respond, simply started pulling her up the stairs again.
“Rich, what was—”
“Shut the fuck up,” he snarled.
Liliana turned just in time as they rounded the top of the stairs to see Rich’s men scattering to different spots on the bottom level. Their guns were already drawn, and the black hats they wore were pulled down over their faces like masks with only eye-holes for them to see out of. She didn’t get to see anything else, though, because Rich threw her into the closest room. The force of it made Liliana land on her broken foot, and she swore she heard another crunch.
Her gasp of pain was followed by another cry. Tears welled, and fell down her cheeks. She reached for her foot, but maybe that was her biggest mistake of all.
She should have been watching him.
The fucking bastard.
She heard the clink of metal a second before she heard leather hiss as it was pulled. Rich’s belt coming out of the loops.
The belt hit her hard.
Once, and then again.
Again, and again, and again.
Stop, stop, stop.
She heard her own cries.
Heard her screaming.
And yet, she couldn’t be sure it was her.
“You. Will. Listen.”
Another smack.
Another cry.
“You. Will. Learn.”
The next crack of the belt came down across Liliana’s face—splitting skin, and blinding her for a second.
The panic welled.
The fear took over.
She was frozen for those seconds.
“What is that smell?”
It was Rich’s distraction that allowed Liliana a few seconds of reprieve. A moment to gather her bearings, and look for something—anything—to use. To get her out of this, to help her fucking survive.
She realized she had been thrown into a bedroom, and while her one eye was impossible to see out of, the other one was just fine. There on the bedside table, she found a lamp that looked heavy as hell, and … well, it was something.
And that was all she needed.
It took all of her strength, and every effort in her body to ignore the protesting pain in her foot and shooting up her leg, to push up from the floor, and grab that goddamn lamp. She didn’t even think about it once she had it in her hands.
No, she simply turned with it and swung for all she was worth. She didn’t even think she had aimed it properly, but the lamp still crashed over the back of Rich’s head.
He swayed for a second.
His head swung back to her.
His gaze glazed.
Move, her mind screamed, do something!
In his confusion, Rich had dropped the belt, and his knees hit the floor. She didn’t know if he was going to move again, or how long it might take for him to snap back to reality. She didn’t know anything at all, and she couldn’t think beyond her mind still screaming for her to do something.
Liliana grabbed it before he could reach for it again, slipped the end tail in through the metal loop to create a noose of sorts, and then threw it over his head. When it hung around his neck like a piece of jewelry, she pulled. She tightened it as much as she could, and pulled again until she heard him gag. Yanked and fucking yanked until she watched his legs kick, and his hands try to pull the belt away.
Liliana didn’t care.
She got on the edge of the bed, and used the arm of the four-poster bed as leverage to help her keep that goddamn belt as tight as it could be.
Her pain intensified—she was probably damaging her broken bones even more. She could barely hold back the vomit. She didn’t even smell the smoke, or hear the shouts and the gunshots; she just saw Rich dying.
She just wanted him to die.
Fucking die.