Total pages in book: 93
Estimated words: 87996 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 440(@200wpm)___ 352(@250wpm)___ 293(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 87996 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 440(@200wpm)___ 352(@250wpm)___ 293(@300wpm)
He wrapped his hand around my thin calf and pulled it back so he could grab my shoe. He took it off and threw it over to one of the sculptures, then did the same with its mate.
“There. Now, you have a few options, princess. Do as you are told, like a good girl, and this will all be much easier for you. Or you can be a brat and keep fighting. You will no doubt ruin your brother’s wedding with all the commotion, and it won’t change a thing, except you will be punished severely. Either way, you are coming with me.”
He stood and pulled me to my feet.
“You do look so pretty with your makeup ruined. Like a fallen angel,” he mumbled to himself before asking me, “Are you going to behave?”
The lights from the party were visible over his shoulder as the music from the band drifted to us on the evening breeze. If I screamed right now, someone might hear me. But it wouldn’t do any good. Even if anyone heard me over the music, they wouldn’t get to me in time.
“Why?” I met his blue eyes. “Why are you doing this to me?”
“Because I can,” he said before picking me up and throwing me over his shoulder.
“I’ll behave,” I said as he started walking.
“Good,” he said.
Blood rushed to my head, giving me vertigo. Pressure built, causing a headache, while the champagne made everything fuzzy.
His shoulder dug painfully into my stomach with each step he took.
Nausea made my head swim.
“Put me down,” I begged, not wanting to throw up.
He slapped my ass, sending a shot of electricity through my body. “Shut up.”
I made a mental note to add that to the things to discuss when at therapy.
It had to be the alcohol confusing my hormones.
I most certainly did not enjoy being manhandled, or spanked like a toddler.
He took me past the border of the park, through a dense forest. The leaves were just starting to turn bright oranges and reds, so the forest floor was still blanketed in soft grass. The only thing I could hear was my own whimpering and his grunts of effort as he carried me. Even the insects had gone quiet, as if they could sense a predator on the hunt.
I told myself over and over again, this was Marksen DuBois.
His family used to be so close to mine.
We played together as children.
Well, he played with my brother.
I was the annoying little girl who followed him and her big brother around.
Still, there had to be some fondness for me in him somewhere.
“Marksen, please don’t do this. It’s not too late. Just let me go, and I promise I won’t say anything to anyone,” I pleaded.
“I know you won’t say anything to anyone,” he said, still marching through the woods, jostling me with every step. “If you make this any harder than it has to be, I won’t hesitate to make sure you never tell anyone anything ever again.”
He broke through the line of trees, and pressing my hands against his muscular back, I lifted my torso up and looked around.
He had carried me to a deserted parking lot behind a massive concrete building.
I couldn’t hold myself up too long, arching my back like that was awkward and painful. Plus, I was far too drunk to be able to keep my balance.
“Please,” I beseeched as I tried to look around his side. I caught glimpses of a hidden SUV that was parked behind some large green dumpsters. “Don’t hurt me.”
“Oh, princess, I’m not going to hurt you … probably. As long as you behave.”
He came to a stop. “I’ll get her in. You start the car,” Marksen said to someone. Then, to me, he warned, “Don’t bother. He works for me. My driver isn’t going to save you, and neither will anyone else on my payroll. My employees are compensated well for their obedience and silence.”
He put me down long enough to reach for the door handle but kept his hand around my wrist.
I tried to break free and make a run for it again.
Marksen easily yanked me back, flinging me into the car door.
Pain erupted over my entire back where it connected with the metal.
He was on me in a second. Holding both of my wrists in his hands, pinning them above my head and pressing his body to mine.
“Do you know what happens to little girls who don’t behave?” he said, looming over me.
I shook my head.
“They get turned over my knee and spanked.”
As if to underline his point, he pressed his thigh in between mine.
“Right now your life is going to get much easier if you accept one little fact. You are mine. Mine to order about, mine to decide what will happen to. If you just turn that pretty little brain of yours off and do as you are told, then you will be fine … physically. If you continue to fight me, bad things will happen.” He traced a line down the side of my face. “And we wouldn’t want that, now would we?”