9
Kane
I seethe look on Brielle’s face. She might not want to be here, but she’s intrigued. On every floor, she watches the couples with a mixture of curiosity and fascination. I’d bet all the money in my bank account, if I slid my hand under her dress and panties, I’d find her soaked.
And I’m trying to figure out how to go about testing my theory when we approach a room where a couple seems to be arguing. Quickly, I realize it’s a fantasy rape scene. He throws her on the bed and rips her clothes off. Then he flips her onto her stomach and is about to fuck her ass when Brielle releases a choked gasp and takes off running down the hall.
I follow her down five flights of stairs, out the emergency exit, and halfway to the guard gate when I finally catch up to her and pull her into my arms from behind. “Brielle! What the fuck?” I have no clue what is going on, but her entire body is shaking, and I’m assuming the scene triggered something inside of her. “What the hell is going on?”
I spin her around, and her eyes are red and glassy.
“I want to leave—now,” she demands.
“Okay, but first, you need to tell me what happened in there. One minute, you were turned on, and the next …”
The next, we were watching a rape scene.
Could that be it? Could Brielle have been a victim of rape?
My first thought is,Who the fuck raped her? And do her brothers know about it?
And my next thought is,If whoever did it is still alive, I’ll slowly fucking kill them.
“Brielle, did someone?—”
“I said, I want to leave.”
She backs out of my touch, and I want to demand she let me in and tell me what happened, but I can see the defiance in her eyes. Her walls have been fully erected, and she’s not going to let me in tonight.
Of course, Daniil—who has the worst timing ever—approaches, and since I don’t want to continue this conversation in front of him, I relent.
“Okay,” I tell her, “let’s go.”
Since she clearly doesn’t want to be touched, I head back to the car with her an arm’s length away, Daniil following. Brielle might think this conversation is over, but I’m going to find out who made my future wife like this, and once I do, heads are going to fucking roll.
The drive back to Brielle’s is quiet, and once we pull through her brother’s guard gate, she starts taking off her seat belt, ready to bolt.
But before she can get out, I place my hand on hers to stop her. “What happened back there?—”
“Is none of your fucking business,” she finishes, shaking my hand off her and getting out of my car.
“Brielle!” I yell once I’m out of the car, trying to get her to stop, but like the stubborn woman she is, she ignores me and goes inside, slamming the door behind her before I can get another word in.
“Good date?” the guard asks with a smirk.
“Tell Dominick I need to speak to him.”
If anyone would know what happened to Brielle, it’s him.
The guard clenches his jaw, but pulls out his phone.
A few minutes later, Dominick steps outside. “It’s late.”
“This couldn’t wait.” I glance at the guard, making it clear I don’t want to talk in front of him. Dominick nodstoward him, letting him know he’s free to go, and I wait until we’re alone to ask, “Who hurt your sister?”
I don’t bother asking if she was hurt. I already know she was. So, the only question is who fucking hurt her.
Dominick’s face turns dark. “Why are you asking that?”
