I wanted to shout at him, tell him what a horrible human he was—hurting people, stealing and lying for money and power—and really reiterate that if he was the best of this family, I hoped I was the worst. But I didn’t let a single word fall.
Somehow, he still saw it in my eyes.
His fist slammed into my sternum, just above my left breast, and immediately my chest ached as a wheezing cough escaped. One day he’d make a mistake and hit me too hard; at least then I’d finally be free of him.
Crumpling forward, I protected myself the best I could as he slammed more fists into me. He knew exactly where to hit to inflict maximum pain with minimal evidence and was always very careful about that since hospitals asked questions and that was the last thing he wanted in his life.
Appearances mattered to Blake, and for that reason alone, I was slightly spared.
Small mercies.
2
Hot water beat down on me as I scrubbed my skin, needing to remove the memories of my brother’s hands on me. I could already see some bruises and welts, and if I didn’t desperately need this evening with Dylan, I would have canceled.
I’d just have to insist on no lights so that awkward questions were avoided.
Dylan didn’t give a fuck; he was only there for… well, the fucking. Full sunlight or pitch black, it didn’t matter as long as his cock could find my pussy. He wouldn’t notice my puffy, red eyes or the slight tremble in my limbs.
And for once, I was thankful to be nothing more than a warm body available when he visited Colorado.
When I was done showering, I stepped out and toweled off quickly. It took me a few minutes to run a brush through my long hair before I rubbed some styling gel into it to stop the curls from frizzing into a hot mess. The green in my hazel eyes was brighter than usual—typical after I’d cried. It frustrated me that Blake could still make me cry after all this time … that the pain still stole my breath and brought me to my knees. I should be stronger than this.
A scream built in my chest, and I gulped huge lungfuls of air to stop it from bursting free. One day I was going to explode. But it wasn’t today. Today I had a billionaire to seduce.
Once I was dry and dressed, my hair falling in loose curls, I used a small amount of makeup to cover any visible bruising. I wore only faded blue jeans and a white shirt, no doubt underdressed when rushing off to meet one's secret lover. But Dylan would just strip me the second I walked in the room anyway, so it didn’t much matter what I wore.
Better to be comfortable for the sneaking out part since it was where all the danger lay. It was almost time, too; I just had to wait for Mary’s final check-in. She was the only one allowed near me after Blake had gotten to me, and I’d already had hugs, tea, and a sneaked cookie earlier. This last visit would be just to say goodnight.
Her soft knock came a moment later. “You okay in here, sweetheart?”
“Yep,” I said. “Come in.”
When her familiar, caring face came into view, I almost cried again, somehow holding myself together long enough to give her a hug. She gave the best hugs, and even though we looked nothing alike—she was half a foot taller than me, slender to my curves, with gorgeous black skin—I thought of her as a second mother. She could do so much better than suffering under Blake’s arrogant bullshit, too, but she’d been with us since both Blake and I were kids and she was too good of a cook for him to ever fire her.
Actually, she was too good to be anyone’scook. She deserved to be a head chef in a fancy restaurant somewhere. One day, she’d get there.
“We need to get you away from him,” she growled as she released me. “He can’t be allowed to keep hurting you.”
I shook my head. “It’s fine. I’m fine. Don’t do anything that will draw his attention. I need you to still be here.”
My greatest fear was that she’d die, and even though she was only in her early fifties—and looked at least a decade younger—with Blake as a boss, you never knew what would happen. Especially the way he threatened her health and well-being to keep me under his thumb. Until Mary and I had quietly pilfered and pawned enough of the Lawson family assets to make a fresh start for ourselves, and enroll Mary in culinary school, then I was gritting my teeth and bearing it.
“You don’t understand how hard it is for me to see you be hurt,” she told me, her voice breaking. “If…” She cleared her throat. “If I had a child, I would hope someone would help them if needed.”
“I love you,” I said, hugging her again. There was nothing else I could say because we were both victims to circumstance. But there was light at the end of the tunnel. We had plans to escape eventually.
“I love you too, child. Like my very own.”
Mary had always poured so much motherly love into me that I thought it a shame she’d never had a child of her own, but I was also grateful that she hadn’t. It allowed her to be with me, and I was selfish enough to want that, even if it was a hard life for her as well.
We chatted together longer than normal, and even though I’d probably be late for Dylan, I didn’t hurry her away. We both needed comfort, and it was so rare these days. Eventually though, Mary had to get back to work, and that left me free to escape from this hellhole.
My room was on the second floor, but I had long ago chiseled some holds in the stone that ran along my side. It was disguised with well-placed ivy, which Mary had convinced the gardener to grow on this wing of the house. It’d taken me a good year before I could use it, but it was well worth the wait.
Grabbing my small leather backpack, I slipped it over my shoulders, pulled on my Vans, and took a moment to check out the window on my side of the estate. There shouldn’t be any guards and the garden staff had finished for the day, but I never took chances.
That’s how I stayed alive.
