He smelled like it when he stole me, and he smells like it now.
He might not have changed much, but I’m as different as the furniture in this house and there’s no way I’m going down without a fight. It took me years to reclaim my mind after he warped it with his talk of a demented future where I’d be his wife and we’d live out our lives together in marital bliss. And if he thinks—
I’m smacked to the floor with a hard fist across my mouth. More blood.
“I know what you’re thinking, Daisy. And I don’t like it. Get up.”
I can’t get up, my fucking hands are bound behind my back. He knows this, but he rolls me a little with his boot. “I said get the fuck up.”
I wiggle around until I can roll over and get to my knees, then I rock forward and stand, my leg muscles straining to lift me up without the use of my hands.
“Sit,” he barks.
I sit again. And then he plops a laptop down in front of me.
“You are a disgusting whore, Daisy.” He points to my Twitter account. “Password.”
Is this a battle I need to fight? I’m not sure, but the blood is still dripping down my face, so I decide that’s a big no. If he wants to play around on my Twitter, more power to him. “My friends will all know it’s not me.”
“Oh, don’t worry about that. It’s you. Password.”
I turn my head up so I can meet his half-hidden eyes again. “My password is ‘I heart Vaughn Asher.’” He grits his teeth, clenches his jaw. I’ll probably be hit again for that, but I don’t care. “The heart is a less-than sign and a three.”
He types it in and pulls up my profile, then gives me a sidelong glance. “We’re gonna cure that affliction right now. Break up with him.”
What?
“Give me a Filthy Blue Bird-worthy tweet that will let him, and the police, know that you left of your own volition and don’t want to be bothered. One. Tweet. And it better do the job, because if the police come here, I’ll kill both of us. I will never let you leave again. I told you back when I let you go, you are mine. I always mean what I say.”
And then he stares at me so hard and for so long without blinking, I have to turn my head away.
“You have one minute.”
I drop my head and stretch my neck. God, that feels good. I do it again and I can almost feel his anger. A clock is ticking on the wall, and I count those seconds as I imagine the thin hand sweeping around the center, counting down to my captor’s next act of violence.
I wait until the minute he straightens up. I imagine his hand drawing back as he plans where he will strike me. And then my mouth opens and I feed him the words he thinks he wants.
“‘Hashtag time to delete. I’m over it. Have a nice life, bitches.’”
I look up at the masked man to see what he thinks.
“Delete?”
I nod. “Yes, I’ve been meaning to do it since I left Saint Thomas. I want to stop all this. So type that and delete the account.”
I know he’s got a mask on, but I swear to God, I see him smile.
Asshole. He’s just another asshole who thinks with his dick.
“You’re done with Vaughn Asher?”
“So done.”
“He married you.”
That’s right, let’s play, you psycho. I keep my edge hard, I make myself stare him in the eyes. And then I tell him what he wants to hear. “Vaughn can’t marry me. I’m already married. To you.”
Chapter Three
I KNOCK again. “Gra-aaace.” I blow out a breath of air and look over my shoulder at Bigmy. “She’s still here, right? I mean, she never left last night.”
“She never left, boss. Someone was here all night.”
“What time did you leave?”
“Hmmm.” He hums as he thinks. “The guard from Ray’s team relieved me around midnight, I think? I got called back after a few hours. You were already asleep on the couch. The doorman saw me.”
I knock again, but the feeling in the pit of my stomach can’t be denied.
Something is wrong.
“Grace,” I call out, pressing my forehead to the wooden door. “Answer me or I’m coming in.”
I press my ear up against the door and listen.
Nothing.
“Here.” I thrust the coffee and muffin at Bigmy and fish through my pocket for the key to Grace’s apartment. I push it into the lock and twist the handle. “Grace?” Maybe she’s sleeping. I walk into the entryway and then turn down the hallway where her bedroom is. The cat comes out of the door, meowing. “Hey, kitty. Where’s Grace?” The cat rubs up against my leg and I peek into the room.
Nothing.
“Fuck. Bigmy, what the fuck? She’s not here!”
“Let me check the rest of the apartment.”
He goes off to do that while I call Ray. He picks up on the first ring. “Yup.”
“Ray, she’s gone. Did you see her leave last night?”
“No. She never left. We had guys outside, both front and back. And the paparazzi was here all night too. They’d have seen her.”
“Not here,” Bigmy says as he comes back into her bedroom. “No signs of a struggle.”
“Did she get any calls last night, Ray?”
“Let me log in and see. I’m on my way up.”
I end the call with Ray and take my attention back to Bigmy. “Who was the guard last night?”