MIA
I stand at the window and look out over the blades of grass blowing in the breeze. There is a horse in the paddock today. One that is dappled with gray. It has a dark mane which it tosses as it runs, circling the edges of the field, running the length of the fences over and over. Occasionally it stops and whinnies into the air, head thrown back and hoofs stamping at the ground. It longs to be free.
I know how it feels.
Sebastian sits on his throne, one leg draped over the armrest of the chair. “You haven’t sung for me, yet.” He inspects his fingers, turning them over repeatedly before looking back up. “You will tonight.”
“Yes, Maestro,” I say, my eyes still stuck on where the horse sings to the breeze.
My stomach growls loudly and I cover it with my hands as though it will stop the sound from escaping. I’m so hungry my stomach twists in pain. All I’ve been allowed since I arrived is a few glasses of water.
Getting to his feet, he steps behind me, wrapping his arms around my waist and embracing me as though he cares. “You must be starving.” He takes my hand and tugs, spinning me to face him. “Come on, it’s time for dinner.”
I want to cry with relief; instead, I give him a hesitant smile, and he beams back at me, reaching out to tuck a strand of my hair behind my ear. His eyes fall to my mouth and he leans forward, hovering his lips over mine, waiting for me to make the final move. I tilt forward, pressing my lips to his and he sighs into my mouth before breaking the kiss and tugging me toward the door.
“Let’s go.”
The way to the dining room is just as confusing as it was to the music room. Hallways and doorways dart off in varying directions and there seems to be no pattern to the ones which Sebastian chooses. But occasionally I get a glimpse of a staircase that climbs up the center of the mansion, the main thoroughfare for people to navigate the house. If I could make it there, I could find my way out. But if I make it there, it would also increase the likelihood of being seen. It’s only when we’re on the bottom floor and we pass the bottom of the grandiose staircase that I actually see the main entrance to the house. It is gilded in gold and white. A stuffed horse elevated on a platform stands in the middle, the name Grace displayed on a plaque on the bottom. Large paintings cover the walls and detailed ornaments sit in the hidden alcoves. Sebastian drags me past it all, his eyes firmly ahead, not acknowledging the beauty around him. It amazes me that people live in such places as this. It reminds me more of a museum than a house, each treasure lit for maximum exposure.
I’m craning my neck around, up and down, trying to take it all in when we enter the dining room. A large table, almost as long and narrow as the room, sits in the middle of the floor. A man with under wrinkled and over-tanned skin sits at the head, while a severely beautiful lady sits to his side. She’s the woman from one of the photos of Sebastian. The one with ice-blonde hair and eyes paler than her son’s. Those eyes turn to me, starting at my feet and lifting slowly until they meet my gaze. One brow lifts in what I assume is surprise, but it’s hard to tell. She is breathtakingly beautiful. Her hair is pulled into a tight bun on top of her head. Her make-up is dark and dramatic. She wears the faintest of gray outfits which match her eyes.
His father, the Mr Atterton I’ve only heard about but never seen, looks over, boredom showing in his expression as his son pulls out the chair beside his mother and motions for me to sit next to him. It seems odd that we would sit down to a family meal. Strange to be expected to do something so normal.
An array of food is spread over the table, entirely too much for the number of people present, and my mouth waters at the sight. My stomach gurgles again and Mr Atterton’s eyes float over me lazily.
“Dear,” Sebastian’s mother says, nodding slightly in greeting. “What, may I ask, is she doing here, hmmm?”
“We’re here for dinner, Mother. It is dinner time, is it not?”
Sebastian senior grunts and nods to the waiter to begin serving his meal. I sit next to Sebastian junior and the smell of the food drifts over. I inhale deeply, wishing I could just reach out and grab one of the dinner rolls sitting so temptingly in front of me and stuff it into my mouth.
“Yes, my dear, it is.” Mrs Atterton smiles tightly at the waiter as he re-fills her glass with wine. “But we don’t allow whores at the table.” She takes a sip of the blood-red liquid.
Beside me, Sebastian draws in a deep breath, his chest rising, and then he holds it in for a few moments before letting it out slowly and turning to his mother.
“She is not a whore.” His words are clipped and tight as though rage is bubbling just under the surface and he is doing his best to keep it contained.
His mother takes another sip, the food the waiter placed on her plate ignored. “I’m sorry,” she purrs. “Would you prefer me to refer to her as a slut, hmm? Or maybe a harlot, a wanton woman, or a skank?”
“That’s a little hypocritical, is it not, my dear?” Mr Atterton peers at her over invisible glasses.
The tremor of Sebastian’s hand vibrates through the table as he grips it. “Yes,” he says between gritted teeth. “We’ve all seen the way you fawn over Ryker, running your hands all over him like a pet.”
My throat closes at the mention of Ryker and my breath leaves my chest.
His mother’s voice remains impassive, her features perfectly arranged into blankness. “And yet you don’t see me locking him up purely for my pleasure now, do you? I prefer my animals wild, not caged, my dear.”
Ryker and Sebastian’s mother? A small wave of nausea washes over me but I’m too hungry to care.
Sebastian’s chair falls to the ground as he gets to his feet. “Mia! We’re leaving.” Grabbing my elbow, he yanks me upward. My eyes dart over the food as he begins to drag me away. My hand pounces on a dinner roll and I grab it hungrily and grip it between my fingers.
“How dare she!” Sebastian seethes as he hauls me down the hallway.
I shove the roll between my teeth so I can use both my hands to hold the material of my skirt off the ground and not stumble as he pulls me behind him. He jerks me, tugging my elbow as we wind our way through the house. I chew on the bread, swallowing painfully but savoring the feeling of something sliding down my throat and filling my empty stomach. The dark eyes of his family bore down on me as he drags me along a hallway I’ve never been along before. Or, at least, I don’t think I have.
A dark shadow appears before us and Sebastian growls. “Move the fuck out of the way.” The figure ducks into a hallway to allow us by and, as I’m dragged past, I catch a glimpse of his ocean-eyes.
“Ryker?” I stop, barely believing my eyes. “You’re here? You’re okay?” Without thinking, I reach out and stroke his face, pushing my fingers through the strands of his beard.
His eyes bounce between mine, a storm of emotions battling for control. “Mia?” His hand hovers in the air, wanting to touch, but his gaze flicks to Sebastian and I tense, the cold feeling of terror creeping up my spine.
“Don’t fucking touch her.” Sebastian slides between us, his body a hard wall of disdain. His hand still grips my elbow tightly, his fingers digging into the flesh of my arm so hard it feels like they’ve drawn blood.
I lock eyes with Ryker over Sebastian’s shoulder. He chews his bottom lip, his eyes jumping between us before a smirk covers his face and he holds his hands up.
“I wouldn’t dream of it.”
Although his hands are lifted in surrender, everything about his stance claims otherwise. His chest is puffed wide, his shoulders broader and larger than Sebastian’s. The smirk that covers his face is one of arrogance, not defeat, but he’s careful to keep his gaze away from me, choosing instead to lock it on Sebastian. They stand like that for a while, glaring at each other, their bodies both tight and taut, lusting for a fight.
Just the sight of Ryker makes my heart sing. I want to race to him, wrap my arms around his neck and lose myself in his kiss. I want to melt into his embrace, cower in his arms and stay there forever. I want his fingers to trace patterns over my skin and his tongue to lick my flesh until I beg for more. I want him. All of him. Any of him.
“Well? Are you just going to keep standing here or am I free to continue on my merry way?”
Sebastian’s face twists with hatred. “Stay away from her.”
Ryker lifts his hands higher as he winks, as though the thought would never enter his mind.
Sebastian’s eyes narrow. “And don’t go running to my father telling tales, either. She’s none of your business anymore. Remember who you are. Remember who I am.”
“Don’t worry,” Ryker claps him on the shoulder. “I won’t say a word.”