I don’t stop when I feel her weight on my lap, her summer dress moving up her thighs as she spreads her legs on top of me.

  My hands find their way on her hips while my eyes are glued to hers.

  I know I shouldn’t do it. But I’ve denied myself for so long. For years, I’ve been watching from afar, fearing for her, worrying to lose her when I’d never owned her.

  She’s about to embark on a journey that will enable her to build a life without me, far away from here. And I sent her on that journey. I helped to make sure she gets everything she deserves.

  But now she’s offering me a taste of what could have been.

  And I’m not fucking denying myself this time.

  Chapter 19

  J

  “You were inside her room while I was gone?”

  My voice thunders through the hallway, making her jump up from the kitchen table, where she’s been sitting with the newspaper and a cup of coffee.

  Malia stares at me through wide eyes, displaying the face of a guilty person. She knows she got caught doing something wrong, and for a moment, I see delicious fear scurrying across her face. The kind of fear I expect to see in a situation like this, the kind of guilt-ridden anxiety that will make a person bend and apologize, pleading to better themselves in the future.

  But Malia has never been this kind of person with me. Unlike many, many others, she’s never been struck with awe by me in the same way. I always respected that about her, and it’s one of the reasons I thought we could work well together.

  But today, right now, after she betrayed me, being so underhanded and negligent, I expect this kind of discernment from her.

  And I grow even more furious when I don’t see it written on her face. There’s a streak of fright when she first sees me, but it’s more caused by my sudden outburst and the volume of my voice, and not so much by the fact that she’s scared of what I might do to her now that I found out about her betrayal.

  She has her arms crossed in front of her chest and one eyebrow raised by the time I close in on her at the table.

  “We had an agreement!” I bark, pointing my finger at her. “You are not supposed to be in there without my knowledge, and even less when I’m not inside the house!”

  I take a breath, trying to keep it together as her provocative stance drives me up the walls.

  “How the fuck did you even get in there?” I want to know. “Where did you get the code?”

  She laughs at me, only worsening the agonizing fury that’s taken a hold of me.

  “Oh, you just hate this, don’t you,” she snarls at me, casting me a sinister smirk. “You have to control everything and everyone around. All the freaking time! It’s a sickness, Jayson. You’re no mysterious genius like they claim, but a psychopath who lives for the control he can exert over others. It’s sick! You are sick!”

  I take a deep breath, curling my fists as I pierce her down with a threatening glare.

  “How. Did. You. Get. Inside?”

  She pauses for a moment, pressing her lips together as she gathers the courage to respond. Despite her unyielding attitude, this obviously still takes a lot of effort for her. But it needs nothing more than a few breaths before she’s back at it.

  Malia rolls her eyes. “It’s not that hard to figure out, Jayson. You punched it in about a hundred times in front of my eyes. A fourth grader would have been able to memorize it after a while.”

  I flare at her, boiling with rage so violent and hot that it makes me sick.

  “You weren’t supposed to! I strictly forbid it—”

  “I didn’t do anything!” she cuts me off. “I didn’t tell her anything she isn’t supposed to hear, I didn’t give her anything she isn’t supposed to have, and I didn’t even think about letting her out.”

  She scoffs, shaking her head as she shifts her weight from one foot to the other.

  “Even though I probably should have,” she adds, lowering her voice just as her gaze. “With what you’re doing to her...”

  I frown at her, jutting my chin forward in question.

  “You knew what this was—”

  “No, Jayson, I didn’t know!” she interrupts me again, taking a step forward as she glares up at me. “I didn’t know you would beat her up! I never agreed to that! I never said it was okay to treat her this way, and I didn’t know that this is what you wanted her for!”

  I close in on her, moving so close that my breath makes her black curls dance. Any other person would be intimidated enough to retreat, uttering an excuse while trying to hide in the shadows of distance. But not Malia. She remains, narrowing her eyes as she stands her ground.

  “We warned you,” I hiss at her, closing what is left of the minimal distance between us. “Her and I, we both told you that you might be uncomfortable by some of the things you’ll see.”

  “Yes, but—”

  “No but, Malia,” I cut her off. “We agreed. We signed a contract, all three of us. I’m not doing anything to her she didn’t sign up for her. She wants this—”

  “No, she doesn’t!” Her voice is trembling and the look on her face tells me that she’s not quite sure about the truth behind her words herself.

  “No one could ever want something like this,” she adds, sounding even more insecure.

  I sigh. “She does. You know it. You talked to her. You tried to talk her out of this.”

  I pause, trying to swallow my anger at Malia’s treason to divert to another tactic with her, one that might get me further than yelling furiously.

  “Look,” I say, lowering the tone of my voice to a calmer level. “She may be your best friend, and I know you’re worried about her. But you must know that there are some things about Petal you may neither know nor understand.”

  Malia’s black eyes flicker with disdain. “Her name is Liliane. Not Petal.”

  “In here it isn’t,” I insist. “She gave up that name when she signed the contract.”

  She rolls her eyes at my words, letting out an exasperated sigh.

  “I can’t do this anymore, Jayson,” she says, the expression on her face tensing. “This is going too far. She’s desperate, confused, and suffering on a level that is just... too much.”

  “The contract we signed is legally binding. If you break your confidentiality, we could sue you.”

  “We?” she repeats, arching her eyebrows. “You think she would sue me for getting her out of here? For saving her from a lunatic like you?”

  My chest tightens. Quite frankly, I would love to know the answer to that question.

  How would she react? Would she be glad? Would she be disappointed? How would she feel after I help her remember? How much of her memory would I have to restore to sway her decision in my favor?

  What would I have to do to remind her of the feelings that brought her to me in the first place?

  “Besides,” Malia adds, tearing me out of my contemplations. “I’m pretty sure Christopher would see things very differently. And he is the police. Don’t you think it would be up to him to decide in this matter?”

  “Don’t you dare threaten me, Malia,” I warn her, my eyes turning to slits as I lock her in place with a malevolent look.

  “I’m not threatening you, Jayson,” she replies. “I’m just reminding you of the reality you like to ignore while you’re playing your sick games in here.”

  She huffs, walking in a wide circle as she moves past me, heading toward the door.

  “We all make mistakes,” she says without looking back at me. “And I’m beginning to think that there have been a few too many here.”

  I watch as she marches toward the door, a dark frown on my face as I clench my fists.

  She opens the door, and I don’t move.

  She walks out the door, and I don’t move.

  My mind is racing, jumping back and forth between options as I try to decide what to do about her.

  Should I let her go and trust that she remembers our deal once she’s calmed down? Should I follow her and make sure she’ll never tell a living soul about this?

  My feet move before my decision is truly finalized.

  I hope I don’t regret this.

  Chapter 20

  Petal

  I’m starving.

  My hunger has never come to an extreme like this. The hollow feeling in my stomach may have been pretty bad on my very first day, but it was overshadowed by so many other emotions then. Ever since I adapted to my situation, I have been provided with meals on a regular basis. As simple as they were, there was always enough to keep me fed and not suffer from an empty stomach.

  Until now.

  The girl hasn’t been back ever since she brought me that delicious stew, and while I can’t say for sure how long it’s been since then, it feels like it must have been at least an entire day. A long day.

  I slept in between, but I’m not sure whether it was just a short nap or a full night’s sleep. It’s funny how little I can tell these things, even after discovering the tiny peek into the world outside. I held my hand up to the window several times, not finding a hint of light every single time.

  Does this mean it’s been night this entire time? Or is the weather outside gloomy and lacking sunshine bright enough to pierce through the small crack?

  I wish I knew. I wish I could get an answer by asking, but even if I could hope for a simple response, there’s no one around to question. I haven’t seen him in a while either, ever since he stormed out of the room. He was mad, but his anger wasn’t directed at me. The expression on his face changed when I told him that she’d brought me food that day. I didn’t think much of it, but it appears there’s more to it than I suspected.

  She told me he was out of the house, that’s why we were able to talk. Did she break some kind of rule by visiting me then? Did I accidentally tell on her?

  I feel terrible for it, especially because it seemed like there was some kind of ruckus, shaking the walls of this house, right after he left my room. There has never been any kind of noise that was able to penetrate the walls and door of this room, but I feel like I heard something going on shortly after he left me with that furious expression on his face.

  Movement. Voices even. A door being slammed? Something shook the walls, and there was some ominous thumping, making me believe that he was about to return to my room, but when I sunk down on my knees, awaiting his return, it was for nothing. He didn’t show up.

  He still hasn’t.

  The rose keeps wilting, time keeps passing, but for me, it may as well stand still. I may not know how long it’s really been, but I know for certain that I’ve never been by myself for this duration. I’ve never grown this hungry, and my mind has never been this idle, lacking any kind of external dissipation.

  I wander, I sleep, I climb up the bench to check the crack on the window—and then I repeat. I inspect the room, unsure what I’m looking for. I try the door to the hallway and the door to the dungeon, knowing that both of them are locked.

  I miss him.

  At some point, I even called for him. I stood in the middle of the room, knowing that there are hidden cameras somewhere but still not in the know of their precise location—and I called out his name. It was a deliberate move of disobedience. I wanted to provoke him, unsure whether I’m already being punished for something or if the answer for my long solitude was a different one. He always announces and explains his punishments before they happen, so I doubt that this could be it.

  Is this about my dependence on him? He is starving me on more than one level, denying me food just as much as the things I’ve come to enjoy with him. It may be carnal, just like my craving for food, but I’ve found myself yearning for his touch more than once. I fantasized about it, imagining myself tied to the cross or the bench, or bent over on the floor while he had his way with me.

  It’s more than lust, more than simply being horny. I crave him in all his essence. His voice, his eyes, his scent, his hands, his cock. His appearance was a dark solace from the beginning, if only because it promised change and dissipation. But it’s come to a whole new level ever since he played my body like an instrument, evoking not only sounds but emotions that are overwhelming and addictive.

  I want more of it. Like an addict, I find myself willing to give anything for another taste of him. Anything.

  Maybe even my freedom. This choice has never been put to me, but if it were... I’m scared thinking about what I might do.

  Just like many others, the thought keeps creeping up on me, if only to entertain my empty mind while I wait.

  How much longer will it be? And what if neither of them ever returns?

  What if something happened to them? What if the noises I heard were caused by intruders? Robbers, murderers? What do I know of the dangers that may lurk behind these walls?

  And if that’s what happened, when and how will I ever get out of here? Is that how it will end? Will I just starve to death?

  My thoughts move in a vicious circle like that, always returning to the same horrifying scenario before I force myself to discard it. But just as I’m beginning to ponder whether I could break the windows by throwing one of the chairs against them, I hear a subtle noise outside the door.

  Steps. His stride. It’s not so much an actual noise that makes me aware of him, but the faint vibrations his footsteps cause as he walks along the wooden hallway.

  I’m down on my knees before the door open, my heart beating faster this time. Something has happened. Something has changed. It’s the only explanation for this long absence of any human contact, neither him nor her.

  And I hope to find out about it now.

  He’s moving fast today, faster than usual. I can see his dress shoes before me just moments after he dashes through the door. And it’s just another breath before I can feel his hands on me, grabbing a fist of hair at the back of my head to pull me up on my feet.

  I mewl in pain when he drags me across the room, barely looking at me as we approach the bed.

  “You’ll have to be strong today, Petal.”

  His words send a shiver down my spine, only worsened by the way he looks at me when we come to a halt at the foot of the bed. He looks just as impeccable as always, dressed to the nines, his hair kept in place with gel, his strong jaw neatly shaven—but the expression on his face looks strained, more so than it ever has before.

  “Did something hap—”

  “Hush,” he cuts me off, undermining his command with a demanding kiss. He wraps his arms around me, pulling me close and so tight in his embrace I can barely breathe. His craving is apparent in the way he devours me, giving meaning to the phrase of eating someone alive. His tongue attacks mine so voraciously that I find it impossible to keep up. I can’t move, I can’t breathe. I can only feel him and take in his delectable taste, relishing the way my heartbeat rises in delight and not fear before my vision turns blurry from lack of oxygen.

  I squirm in his arms, trying to come up for air. When he finally lets me, he only does so for a few brief seconds, putting just enough distance between us so I can breathe, before he hooks his hands under the neckline of my gown. The backs of his hands meet right at the middle between my breasts, only resting there for a moment before he pulls them apart in one quick yank, ripping the white silky gown from my body.

  “Get on the bed. On your back. Face me.”

  I comply on instinct, my eyes locked on to his as I climb on top of the mattress, while he begins to unbutton his shirt.

  “Spread your legs, offer yourself to me,” he hisses under heavy breaths. “Play with yourself.”

  I’m torn between subtle fear, the kind that’s always there when he is with me, and the hot throbbing that dictates my center as I follow his orders. He peels himself out of his clothes in a hurry, almost tearing his outfit apart as he did with my gown. His eyes are on me the entire time. I can relate to the hunger on his face, feeling it run through every fiber of my body as well. My heart races, sending hot rushes of lust to my core while I watch him undress. My hand moves where he wants it, the tips of my fingers met with a clear telltale of my arousal.

  “Yes, good,” he breathes, nodding with approval as he exposes himself in front me. He is rock-hard, the head of his length dripping with precum when he steps closer. He wraps a hand around himself, stroking as he looks down on me.

  “Who do you belong to?”

  Lunacy kisses his sinister gaze as he pins me down with an unyielding look. He’s breathing heavily, driven by impatient lust and a kind of possessiveness that trumps everything else.

  It could be scary to be looked at like this. I feel like I should be frightened, and there’s a part of me that wants to call him, to address him with his name to produce the person hiding behind this expression of insanity.

  But my excitement overshadows this whisper of fear. I know I am safe, or at least I’m led to believe that I am. My current concern is nothing but a spice to our game.

  Or at least, I want it to be.

  “You,” I breathe. The response leaves my lips with ease. “I belong to you.”

  Triumph flares up in his eyes as he nods. “That’s right.”

  I suck in a sharp breath in anticipation when he joins me on the bed, positioning himself between my spread legs while he continues to stroke his length. He remains on his knees for a few moments, our eyes locked on to each other while our erratic breaths hiss through the room. Something is troubling him. It’s written all over his strained expression and the luscious mask adorning his expression is not hiding it one bit.

  But whatever it is, he won’t verbalize it in front of me.

  He breaks the tension between us with sudden motions, grabbing my hips and lifting me up while his pelvis thrusts forward. A deep moan leaves my lips when he parts my lips, stretching me with his size as he moves forward in one brute motion. There’s desperation in the way he fucks me, turning him feral as he takes me with such vicious need that the tremors shock my entire body. My fingers dig into the bed sheet, holding on to it as I try to keep myself in place instead of being pushed away by the sheer brutality of his assault.