Total pages in book: 74
Estimated words: 72931 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 365(@200wpm)___ 292(@250wpm)___ 243(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 72931 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 365(@200wpm)___ 292(@250wpm)___ 243(@300wpm)
I blink back tears and straighten my spine. I can’t be weak. Not here. I walk over to my door and knock, knowing Renaldo will be waiting. With a soft click, he unlocks the door and rakes his greedy stare down my front.
“Cover those,” he snipes.
“I already tried,” I lie. “Now move, asshole.”
He allows me to push past him. I storm down the hallway with false bravado. Inside, I’m trembling. I don’t want to see my father. I don’t want to be here. Carefully, I make my way down the stairs and into the dining room. Daddy sits at the end. A chair is placed beside him. All the other chairs have been removed. A half empty bottle of cognac sits on the table and his face is ruddy, which means he’s halfway to being fucked up.
Great.
He turns his head and points at his cheek. Like the trained dog I am, I walk over to him and plant a wet kiss there. Before I can pull away, his hand captures my throat. His bloodshot eyes rake over my exposed flesh, making him snarl with fury.
“Koynakov did this to you?”
Koynakov?
“Yes.”
“Motherfucker.” He caresses my neck. “To get back at me?”
I tug from his hold and rub away the soreness. “What? No. Why would you say that?”
“Francis, bring dinner. My daughter is famished.”
I’m used to his ignoring me or changing the subject. This time, I don’t mind because it means he’ll leave me alone while we eat.
But what happens after we eat our meal?
After an exhausting dinner watching my dad get drunk as shit and ranting about how fucking rich he is, I managed to escape back to my room. Even though I was locked back inside, it felt like a haven. I stripped out of the dress and threw on a nightgown before falling back into bed. I tossed and turned, dreaming of Koyn.
Warm hand on my stomach.
Up, up, up to my breasts.
I moan and push my ass out, seeking the feel of his cock pressed against me. He ruts against me, his fingers tweaking my nipples. I beg and plead for him to push inside me. To come and make me his. He ignores my pleas, but instead slides his hand between my thighs. Rubbing and rubbing until I’m whimpering with pleasure.
More.
I need more.
He tears off my gown and pushes me onto my back. His body nestles between my thighs. I hear the familiar tear of the foil on the condom before he rolls it on his dick.
Wait.
No.
Koyn doesn’t—
All thoughts escape me as he thrusts all the way inside me. I run as fast as I can in my head. Away. Away. Oh, God. So far away. With each thrust, he reminds me I belong to him in every way.
I want to scream, but no one will come. They never do.
Instead, I slap and claw and shove to no avail. He easily pins me down, calls me Juliette, and groans out his release. Then, he pulls roughly out of me, stumbling to pull off the condom. The bathroom light flicks on. I hear him peeing. A cough. He clears his throat. Then the room goes dark again.
I remain frozen in the bed, caught between dream and reality. The throbbing between my thighs reminds me it’s not a dream at all. Hot tears roll down my temples as I bite hard on my lip to keep from sobbing. Please go away.
“Goodnight, sweetheart,” he slurs. “See you at breakfast.”
Click.
The moment he’s gone, I curl into a ball and drag the pillow to my face. I cry and scream into it, wishing I could suffocate.
I’m in hell.
Koyn delivered me himself.
Two months later…
They took away all the sharp things. My crowns and trophies could be used as weapons. Or tools for self-destruction. The mirrors have been removed because glass is bad. My room has been stripped to nothing. When I behave, I’m allowed out to eat with my father and to hang out with him in his office. Sometimes he lets me browse the Internet because it keeps me from asking him questions. I use that time to look up my obsession.
Koyn.
Or should I say Jared Koynakov?
All the pictures of him are from ten years ago. He was much like my father, a business mogul. Rich. Famous. Revered. In his expensive suits, he was mouth-wateringly handsome. Such a far cry from his rough, dangerous older version of himself. From my hunts, I learned that his wife and daughter were brutally murdered and he fell off the grid after that. Closed up his company and retired. His brother is Jeremy Koynakov, federal agent of the FBI. I’d remembered him wearing the FBI jacket when they took me, but now it’s been confirmed. I wonder if the FBI knows what shit he gets up to in his spare time.