Pain pulsed across her backside. The ones on her shoulders she could separate into the individual marks, but her ass and thighs felt like one solid bruise. Her skin was hot, aching, and when she looked she could see where the belt had wrapped to the outside of her hip or thigh at times. Bright red rectangles, some with little purple dots where the bruises were surfacing fast.

He’d chained her up and beaten her, used the belt so many times she’d lost count, and she knew she should hate him the most, every ounce of the futile rage she felt should be aimed at him — but it wasn’t.

Selling a company takes time, Lianna.

Her father had sounded so calm, so detached, and then he’d hung up while she had screamed and begged him for help. It had to have been more than a day by now, maybe two, and there were no police breaking down the doors. There was nothing except the man in the mask, and her father’s voice in a tone she’d never heard him use with her. Tears pricked at her eyes again as she curled closer to the wall, head pressed against it.

Her wrists were a wreck, darkly ringed in bruises, she seemed to hurt everywhere, and her father was lecturing her about the complications of selling companies. Didn’t he remember what he’d tasked her with for the past two years?

Acquisitions.

Literally buying companies and folding them into the umbrella of Mercier Systems. She knew exactly what it took to sell a company because she’d sat in hundreds of hours of meetings listening to the fucking process. Assisting with it, supporting it, managing it.

She knew the board had power, but her father ran the company. He could sign whatever he fucking wanted to. He rarely asked permission before acting, and it was that attitude that had infuriated stakeholders in the past. In meetings and on calls where he got into shouting matches, his voice echoing through the apartment even through the closed door. That man wouldn’t let this happen to her, would he?

Unless he was angry with her? Furious that she had let herself be taken? Did he see this as some sort of suitable punishment?

Did she deserve this?

Doubt spiraled like razor-winged butterflies through her mind. Torturing her and tormenting her. Slowly, inexorably, breaking her down.

She pulled her lip between her teeth and bit down, trying to stifle the sob that swelled in her chest. Eventually it escaped, and she focused on staying as quiet as she could until the exhaustion finally pulled her down into sleep.

* * *

Bleary eyes opened to find the room brightly lit again, no more half-gray haze, and Lianna turned over before she remembered her welted ass. It hurt, but not as much as it had before she’d slept. A dull throb instead of the sharp sting.

Beside the door was a plastic grocery bag and she stared at it for a moment before she pushed herself off the floor. As she stood over it, she wondered if he’d come back as soon as she picked it up, but then she looked inside. There was a toothbrush and that was more than enough temptation. There was also an unopened travel-sized toothpaste, a washcloth, and a protein bar. Vanilla almond, her favorite flavor. The little bag seemed like a trick of some kind, but she wasn’t going to question the opportunity to brush her teeth or eat something other than lunchmeat and white bread.

After the food, she brushed her teeth and scrubbed herself with the frigid water from the tap, keeping her back to the cameras while standing over the little drain in the floor.

Now, she was shivering hard enough to make her teeth clatter, yet it still felt good to be somewhat clean, even if she was freezing.

Lianna filled the plastic cup, but the sudden jolt of the lock on the door made her drop it. Water splashed on her legs as the cup bounced on the floor, and then the man filled the doorway once again.

Tall, and broad, and terrifying.

His bare chest stunned her, carved muscle leading down to the same dark pants and boots. There was no question in her mind where the strength in his limbs came from, because he would have resembled a Greek statue if his skin weren’t so tan. But for all the bared skin, for every shadowed curve of muscle, that damn mask was still in place leaving him an expressionless, foreboding wall of male aggression.

“Against the wall,” he commanded and she pressed her back firmly to it, but he growled and snapped his fingers. Impatient. “Face the fucking wall, hands behind your back, and do not turn around.”

With a shudder, she obeyed, turning and holding onto one wrist. There was movement, something soft and heavy dropping onto the floor and then being moved. The rattle of chain came next and she whimpered, fighting the urge to turn and see what it was. When the door slammed shut, she jumped, almost risking a glance before she heard him moving, accompanied by the metallic sound of heavy links scraping over the concrete.

Eventually, his heavy footsteps came closer, stopping just behind her, and she tried to suppress the shiver of fear. “It seems your father still doesn’t take me seriously. Deadline is almost up, princess.”

Her stomach dropped, and she shivered again. “Just give him more time, he just needs—”

He ripped her head back by her hair, a gasp of pain escaping as he pulled her away from the wall and turned her so she could see the thin, bare mattress on the floor.

No, no, no.

“Didn’t I say I’d give you something to sleep on?” He shook her hard by her hair, the ache spreading across her scalp. “Say thank you.”

“I don’t—” Her words were cut short as he threw her to the floor, and she barely caught herself on her hands before he dug his boot into her hip and knocked her to her side.

“Say thank you, slut.”

When she didn’t immediately respond, he reached for her, but she scrambled backwards. “Thank you! Okay? Thank you.” She faced him, trying to move back a little further as a tremor of fear raced up her back. “I said it, just please don’t—” When she put her hands out to hold him off he simply grabbed a wrist and started to drag her towards the mattress.

“That didn’t sound very sincere,” he muttered as he hauled her behind him.

Lianna tried to stop him, tried to slow his advance, but her struggles were useless as he shoved her onto the dingy fabric. “I’m sorry! Just please—”

“I don’t want to hear it, lay down.”

Twisting at the waist, she caught sight of the cluster of chain at the top of the mattress and she tried to run, to throw herself off the thin, padded surface, but he caught her. His heavy body absorbed every flailing hit as she fought and scratched, ignored every screamed plea that tore at her voice.

Useless.

He overpowered her easily as he pinned her shoulders down, his thumbs digging furrows of rage above her collarbones. “Is this how you show gratitude?”

“Let me up! Just STOP!” She recognized the impending threat in him, but she didn’t want to be chained again, didn’t want him to hurt her again. She couldn’t. “Don’t do this! Please!”

“You can thank Daddy for this, princess. Apparently he doesn’t love you as much as his precious company.” The words were like a punch to the stomach as he straddled her hips and forced her wrists down above her head. She sobbed and kicked, trying desperately to buck him off her — but all of it was pointless. A waste of precious energy.

Why wasn’t her father doing everything he could to save her?

Fuck the company. Fuck the board.

He could do what he wanted and they both knew it.

The pile of chain above her head shifted and he released one of her hands to clasp the other into some kind of leather cuff. She inched her free hand down towards her chest, but he simply huffed and snagged it again, gripping it tight. “Stop fighting me, these cuffs won’t fuck up your wrists as bad as handcuffs or the chain.” In a matter of moments he had both of her wrists bound, tiny locks keeping the new cuffs closed despite her desperate attempts to rip them open again. That masked face stared down at her, ominous and blank. “This is where you say thank you again.”

Lianna almost laughed, confused and angry. “Why would you care about my wrists now?”

“Because if you break them there’s a ton of fucking issues that could happen that I don’t want to deal with.” Rage snapped in his voice and she flinched, squeezing her eyes tight, but he didn’t hurt her.

His weight settled over her hips, and she clenched her jaw tight.

“Your father is a selfish bastard, you know that?”

“You don’t even know him!” The urge to defend him was automatic, even when a tiny voice inside her agreed with the asshole right now.

“Apparently I know him better than you do,” he growled as he leaned forward and tugged the two lengths of chain taut through the ring in the floor. He dug in a pocket, his abs stretched above her, shifting under his bronze skin. Finally he moved and she watched as he linked the sections of chain with a large padlock. When he let go she couldn’t lift up at all — held down as sure as if his hands were still on her.

“Why are you doing this? What company do you want him to sell?!” She half-screamed the questions at him as he checked the lengths of chain to ensure she had no slack.

“That’s not what you need to worry about, princess. You just need to worry about convincing Daddy to do it.” Moving to one of her legs, he caught her foot when she tried to kick him, and the glare he gave her through the mask made her start crying. His torture from before was still fresh, and there was no way she could win against him — but she still hated herself as he wrapped the cuff around her ankle. Locking it to the chain, he ran it through another ring on the floor before he secured it in place.

And she let him.

Passive as a sacrifice, doing her best to ignore how wide he spread her legs to repeat the process on the other ankle.

The bright light of the room highlighted his toned arms as he worked, and she couldn’t figure out why he had taken the shirt off. It was cool in the room, the chill making her shiver when she wasn’t curled up, but there he was half-naked, hidden behind a mask, using another padlock on the last bit of chain. Closing her eyes tight, she tried to block out the feeling of his eyes on her, the quiet buzz in her skin that waited for him to touch her.

Foolish. Helpless. Weak.

“Why are you doing this? Please, just tell me why.” Her eyes opened to find him staring at her, that tawny brown gaze losing some of the predatory gleam now that his prey was secure.

His fingers brushed over her leg almost reverently, his body stilling as he settled beside her on the thin mattress. “Because you’re the only weakness he has, princess.”

“Stop calling me that!” she screamed, but with a quick movement he pinched her inner thigh hard and she yelped in pain.

“You’re such a brat. A spoiled fucking brat.” He shook his head, looking back at the door before he turned that masked face towards her and sighed. “I would teach you a lesson right now if we weren’t waiting for your father to miss another deadline.”

“No, no…” There were tears in her eyes, and she tried to blink them away, to summon some internal strength again. “You have to give him more time, you have—”

“You know, princess, Daddy’s nickname for you actually fits very well. You’re the pretty little heiress to his corrupt fucking kingdom, aren’t you?” His voice was a rumbling murmur as he talked over her, twirling a section of her hair around one finger, white gold against his tan skin. “Do you enjoy being at the right hand of the devil?”

Lianna dropped her head back and clenched her eyes tight, refusing to answer. Refusing to entertain this bullshit. Why was he even talking to her like he thought she was a person? He’d made it more than clear what he thought of her. Nothing more than a tool to use as he pleased.

Despite her silence, he continued in that strangely calm monotone. “Is that why you got the MBA after the Bachelor’s in art history? To guarantee a spot in his empire?”

“Why the fuck do you care?” she snapped.

He spanked her inner thigh, the fiery shock making her hips lift involuntarily. “You will speak respectfully or you will be gagged. Understand?”

When she stayed silent, he pinched the delicate skin again and twisted, sharpening the pain to a pinpoint of lightning. Her yelp made her gasp. “Fine! Yes!”

“Good girl.” The man smoothed his hand over the sore spot, petting her like she was an animal, and she hated that some level of her found it soothing, even as he poked at the one issue she couldn’t even answer for herself. “So, is it everything you ever dreamed of? Working for Daddy?”

“It’s my job.” Lianna forced the words through gritted teeth, and he tilted his head as he started to trace his fingers up to her lower belly, down across her waist, and then over her hip to return to her thigh.

“There are a lot of companies in the world, princess.”

“What do you want me to say? That I took the job because it was handed to me? Fine. I did. I’m lazy and selfish and spoiled and all that other shit you keep shouting at me. Okay?” With a jerk at the cuffs, she muttered curses under her breath. The dull ache in her wrists reminding her that she wasn’t healed, and that his calm behavior was nothing more than a fleeting respite.

Even if he was tormenting her in ways he couldn’t possibly know.

“You’re not lazy,” he mused.

“Thanks,” she mumbled, refusing to look at him.

“In fact, you seem to work all the time.” His fingers stroked up until he brushed against the apex of her thighs, and she pulled hard at the cuffs binding her ankles in an effort to close her legs.

“So?” she hissed, digging her nails into her palms.

“Just like Daddy.” There was an odd quality to his voice, something strange that belied the anger she’d normally heard from him.

“Why do you keep calling him that?” Lianna swallowed hard when he raised his eyes to her, the only expressive part he allowed with the rest of his features covered in that dense mask.

“Because I’m not going to say his name.”

“Robert Mercier?”

“Yes, that asshole.” His hand stilled on her skin, ceasing the endless circles he’d been making.

“Why do you hate him, us, so much?”

A low chuckle left his lips and he lifted his touch from her completely, giving her his back as he turned away. “You have no idea.”

“Why? Tell me. Tell me what you want from us.” She rattled the chains at her hands and feet. “It’s not like I can do anything, so why not just tell me what the hell we’ve done to deserve this before you decide to torture me again?”

“Oh, princess…” For a moment she couldn’t tell if he was just fucking with her by using the nickname, or if he didn’t want to say her name either, but when he twisted to look at her again the hunger in his eyes seemed to be something else entirely. “You don’t want to know what I know.”

“Don’t tell me what I want or don’t want, because trust me, you don’t know.” Their gazes locked for a moment, and she didn’t budge, didn’t back down, even when he faced her and slid his palm up her leg to cup her mound.

“I think I know what you want more than you want to admit, and you have no idea what you’re asking for, princess.”

“Try me.”

He shook his head slowly, one finger dipping between her lips to tease the liquid heat that her traitorous body summoned around him. “Tell me, did Daddy ever touch you, princess? Is that why you stick so close to him?”

“What?! No!” The recoil from his words was immediate, but when she struggled he just pushed inside her. Teasing her with torturously tender touches.

“Are you sure? Not once?” He shifted until he was looking down at her, his hand still buried between her thighs, a crook of his finger sending a tremor through her muscles. “He never snuck into your room to have a taste?”

“You’re sick!” she screamed at him, but he just rolled his eyes and pulled away from her, leaving the stoked heat at her core untended.

“And you’re apparently blind, princess, but that’s why you’re chained to the floor while he walks free, isn’t it?” There was a poisonous edge to his tone as he stared at her. Her lips parted to respond, but her mind froze. It was something in his eyes, those tawny pools filled with some kind of knowledge, and for a flash there was no anger — just pity.

For himself? For her?

He broke their gaze then, facing the wall he’d pinned her against before. The memories were bitter fire, twisting and winding their way through her. Urging her to fight, to scream, to demand he answer her. But then, without another word, he stood and walked to the door. Leaving before she could rally her thoughts enough to respond. When the door clanged shut, she let out a frustrated scream, bucking against the chains as if they’d suddenly decide to free her.

“You don’t know anything! Not about him, and not about ME! This is just some sick game you’re playing, you asshole! You bastard!” Her throat ached with how loud she shouted the words, her vocal cords straining.

He doesn’t know me. He doesn’t know my father.

He’s a liar, a monster, and my father will fix this. He will.

When she dropped back to the thin mattress, she hated how much warmer she felt on top of it, hated how her body seemed to urge her to sleep since, for the first time in what seemed like days, she wasn’t curled up on a cold, hard floor. The lights dimmed a bit, but they didn’t go out, and despite her racing heart and bubbling anger at his twisted accusations — she was grateful he kept the soft glow in the ceiling.

As much as she wanted to nurse her rage, the exhaustion was winning. It didn’t care about the aches across her backside, or the pulse between her thighs, or the terrible things he’d said. There were only the eight glowing eyes blinking to life as sleep swallowed her whole.