The lights snapped on, harsh and unforgiving. Vivian squeezed her eyes
shut, her trembling hands fumbling for the silk sheet to cover the brutal,
purpling marks that mapped the violation of her body.
"What's there to hide?" a voice growled.
The man who had entered tore the crimson gauze curtain aside, his
massive frame towering over the bed. A hideous, jagged scar cut across his
right cheek, making his contemptuous sneer all the more terrifying.
"You're already used goods, yet you still pretend to be some blushing
virgin."
He leaned down, ripped the sheet from her grasp, and his lust-filled
eyes roamed over her exposed skin with greedy possession. He pinched a swollen,
bite-marked breast, making her whimper in pain, then grabbed her chin, forcing
her to look at him.
"Colonel Jenson is very pleased with you," he sneered.
"He wants to take you to the Middle East for a few more days of 'fun.'
Remember your task—don't disappoint the Lady."
Vivian's body was a map of agony, too weak to struggle. She could only
endure this subordinate's humiliation. The mention of the Colonel Jenson—the
monster—who had tormented her for three straight nights sent a fresh wave of
terror through her. Compared to him, Julian's past violence had been child's
play.
She shook her head, a hoarse, broken sound escaping her throat.
"No... I won't... go. Please."
She feared she would never come back, that he would kill her out there
in the desert. A cold, stark realisation washed over her: she didn't want to
die. She regretted everything. If she had known the "client" that
mysterious woman had promised would be this kind of depraved animal, she would
never have made the deal, not even to save her own life.
What good was all the money now? She wouldn't live to spend it.
"I want to go home. Send me back. Please, just let me go..."
she clutched the man's wrist, her tears dripping onto his scarred knuckles as
she begged.
The man chuckled, a dark, soulless sound. "Let you go? Fine. But
we're in international waters. You're welcome to jump in and swim back
yourself."
Vivian's face drained of all colour. She couldn't swim. Even if she
could, the sea was a vast, black abyss, teeming with things that would drag her
down into the depths.
He gave her cheek a condescending pat. "What are you so scared of?
Keep Colonel Jenson happy, do what the Lady asks, and you'll get everything you
were promised. A life of luxury is waiting for you."
His voice dropped to a coaxing, sinister whisper. "Look, you've
held up just fine these past three nights. You're still breathing, aren't you?
I had a word with him. He's agreed to let you rest up until we hit the Middle
East."
Vivian's eyes flickered with a desperate, trapped light.
The man saw it. His calloused fingers traced the track of her tears.
"Vivian, from the moment you boarded this ship, there was no turning back.
The Lady never betrays her own. Don't you still want revenge on that woman,
Elara Thorne? Succeed in this, and the Lady will help you crush her. To die now
would be such a waste. No one would even remember your name."
He leaned closer, his breath hot against her ear. "With your
charms, wrapping Colonel Jenson around your finger will be easy. You're already
halfway there."
Vivian met his gaze, a spark of hardened survival igniting in the depths
of her terror. "I don't want to die," she stated, her voice steadier.
"You'll protect me, won't you?"
"Of course," he smiled, a predator's grin. "As long as
you play your part obediently."
"Fine," Vivian bit her lip until she tasted blood. "I'll
play my part."
"Good girl. Now, turn over. I'll apply your ointment."
He donned gloves and began smoothing a cool, green salve over her
wounds. "This is a special formula developed by the Lady herself.
Incredibly effective. A few applications, and your skin will be flawless again,
like none of this ever happened."
He smiled faintly, his lips curling into something chillingly sinister.
What he didn't tell her was that the ointment did more than heal. It seeped
into the skin, into the marrow, carrying with it a subtle, addictive compound.
The more she used it, the more her body would crave it, until she was utterly,
completely a puppet on the Lady's string.
Ashbourne
Half a month later, Aeterna Ventures was successfully launched, its
establishment smooth and efficient thanks to Molly's expertise. To celebrate
her fund's debut and this new chapter, Elara invited her best friend Chloe to officially
join the team. After a lively dinner, Chloe drove Elara back to the Rosewood
Mountain Manor in her own BMW.
They pulled up to the grand entrance just as Ben's black SUV arrived. He
stepped out, his mission-hardened body moving with a lethal grace, his face its
usual implacable mask—until his eyes landed on Chloe.
For a fleeting second, an unprecedented flicker of unease crossed his
stoic features. He quickly lowered his head and strode purposefully toward the
house, as if evading a tactical strike.
A slow, predatory smile spread across Chloe's strikingly elegant
features. She watched his retreating form, her eyes tracing the powerful lines
of his shoulders and back with open appreciation.
Elara didn't miss the charged exchange. She had long suspected there was
history between her bold best friend and her husband's most guarded bodyguard.
Black T-shirt, black trousers, Chloe mused internally, a ghost of a
touch memory tingling on her fingertips. He always wears black. Except for that
night... when he shed it all...
Heh. That tan was truly magnificent.
Muscles so firm, yet surprisingly supple. A rather... pleasant feel.
It was the reason for her recent, rather vivid dreams. The taste of
being taken by force, she had to admit, wasn't half bad.
Elara led Chloe inside. Silas was in the living room, and Ben halted
before him, looking like a man who had just escaped a war-zone.
"Boss," Ben said, his voice unusually urgent. "I need to
debrief. Can we speak in the study?"
Silas's deep gaze swept over him, then flickered to Chloe, who was
smiling like a cat that had gotten the cream. A knowing glint appeared in his
eyes.
"Let's go." He stood and gave Elara's shoulder a gentle
squeeze. "Elly, enjoy your chat. We'll be upstairs."
Only after the two men had disappeared up the staircase did Chloe
finally withdraw her hungry gaze from Ben's retreating form.
Elara nudged her friend, a teasing glint in her eyes. "Alright, out
with it. What was that look about? Did I miss a good show?"
Caught, Chloe felt a rare blush heat her cheeks. She cleared her throat,
trying for nonchalance. "Well, I asked him. He doesn't have a
girlfriend."
She made a mental note to question Silas later about why he'd claimed
otherwise, causing that initial misunderstanding.
"So?" Elara prompted, habitually stroking her noticeably
rounded belly, a knowing, ambiguous smile on her lips.
Chloe glanced around, ensuring they were alone, then leaned in close,
her voice dropping to a scandalised whisper that was full of triumph.
"So... I slept with him."