He doesn’t listen, taking another step toward me, his hands moving from his pockets to reach out for me. There’s a kindness in his eyes I don’t understand. “It’s okay, treasure, you’re safe with me.”
My head spins, the whoosh of the waves, the night sky, and the throbbing in my head all blurring together, making me feel lightheaded, and I stumble backwards trying to catch myself. Adrenaline tells me to keep running from him, but my ankle rolls on something hard and sharp, twisting painfully, sending me sprawling to the wet sandy beach below with a thud. I hit the ground hard, the impact jarring my body as searing pain pulses up through my leg in a way I have never felt before. Grasping my ankle, I scream out in pain.
Chapter 7
Orlandopeersdownatme, a slow, deliberate step bringing him closer, his shadow looming over me and making him look bigger than ever before. “Are you done running from me now, treasure?” His eyes gleam with something ruthless, knowing he now has the advantage over me.
I narrow my eyes in on him, a fresh wave of hatred filling me. “Never. I won’t stop trying to escape until you take me home,” I sob through the agony now throbbing through me. It’s like my ankle has taken on a life of its own, with a pulse. Pain thumps through me, joined by a cold sweat trickling down my forehead.
He drops down to his knees beside me, looking over my ankle. “Sloane, you can’t escape the watchtower. There are no boats kept on the island. No way off short of you swimming the eight miles back to the mainland, and we both know you can’t swim.” He looks almost sympathetic for me, like he’s feeling my pain right now. “The last thing I wanted was for you to get hurt on my watch.” He goes to touch my ankle, and I flinch away from him.
My heart hammers in my chest as a cold shiver comes over me, making nausea churn in my stomach, knowing he’s right. Thiswas his plan all along. I’m trapped with absolutely no way of escaping. “I can’t stay here with you. I have people who rely on me, a business to run, girls who I need to protect,” I lash out at him. “Why the fuck are you doing this to me? What did I ever do to you that you need to destroy my life? The longer I’m trapped here with you, that’s exactly what you’re doing.”
“Sloane.” He reaches for me, but I shuffle along the sand, trying to get some distance from him. It’s no use, my ankle is screwed, the thrum of the deep throbbing almost overwhelming me.
“I can promise you they’re being taken care of,” he says, his eyes not leaving mine for a second. “And so are you. I’m not going to destroy your life, I’m making sure you still have one.” This time when he reaches for me, I don’t shove him away. I’m too weak to even try. Large arms gather me up gently, cradling me like a child.
“Put me down,” I demand, but my voice holds no power anymore, it’s as weak as the squeak of a little mouse. “Leave me here, I don’t want your help!” Tears blur my vision as the intense, burning pain in my ankle pulses through my entire body. But it’s more than that. My head hurts too, drumming through me relentlessly. I feel like I’m losing all control, and there is nothing I can do about it.
Like he knows my inner thoughts, he hugs me tighter into his chest. It’s almost a tender, caring movement, but it’s firm as well, and I know I can’t break free of his grip. The scent of his cologne fills my senses, making me feel even more lightheaded than I already did. Why does he have to smell so damn intoxicating? “We both know I can’t leave you here. Don’t hate me, treasure, you’re safe with me.”
His words send a bitter cocktail of emotions flooding through me. A potent blend of anger, sadness, and confusion. He wantsme not to hate him, but he continues to push me to the edge of insanity.
All the way along the beach and back to the house, he cradles me, whispering, “You’re safe with me,” on repeat. The steady thump of his heart pounding in his chest and his constant breaths are the only thing keeping me here in the present with him.
I’m so weak, my body utterly defeated. The pain in my ankle is a constant dull throb telling me exactly that. I don’t even fight him anymore. What’s the point when he’s got all the control here.
Quietly he takes me back through the house to his bedroom, placing me delicately down on his luxurious bed before he moves into the bathroom. I hear a faucet come to life, then he returns, looking me over as he dries his hands with a towel. “You need to take a bath, then I can see to that sprain.”
“I just want to sleep,” I mutter, closing my eyes, needing to block it all out, him included. I don’t give a fuck if I’m covered in dirt and blood.
He props me up with one arm, taking the weight of my body. “You can sleep after your bath.”
I groan out a protest but already know there is no arguing with him. With his help, I stand shakily, my legs screaming at me, as we slowly make our way to the bathroom.
I grip hold of the vanity for support while he checks the temperature of the bathwater and squirts in some bodywash. The smell of lavender and chamomile fills the air in a way that makes me feel uneasy. Nostalgic even, memories dancing through my foggy brain. I have been in this scenario before with his brother. Right after I freaked out on my birthday.
I watch him as he checks the water temperature again, new questions formulating in my head. “Do you have access to the security tapes from the club?” I ask, my voice barely a whisper,but something deep inside of me already knows he does; he knows how to take care of me because he watched his brother do it. Not only that, but I think hewantsto take care of me. This is him proving to me he’s not the monster I think he is.
His gaze rises inquisitively, his eyes wide, as he places a damp washcloth on the side of the bath and turns off the gently running water. “Why would you ask me a question like that?”
My heart goes into overdrive, but not out of fear that he might hurt me this time; this time it’s something far worse. It’s the reality of what this means. He knows too much about me, and that is fucking scary. “You watched me with your brother, didn’t you?” My cheeks flush with heat knowing what he saw, me losing my virginity to his twin. Not only that but me losing my shit that night as well when Romeo tried to find out more about me. Here he is, the man who caused all my pain, and he was watching me fall apart because of him and the trauma he caused me. It’s sick and fucking twisted.
His lips twitch up at the sides ever so slightly, and I know I’m right even if he won’t admit it. “Time to get that dress off. Do you need help?” he asks me instead of coming clean.
“No,” I snap, wrapping my arms tighter around myself, protectively. He’s not touching me again or removing any more of my clothing. “Answer me, asshole. Did you watch me with your brother?”
He moves toward me, his eyes flaring with heat, his gorgeous face alive for what feels like the first time since I got here. He faces me eye to eye and stares right into my soul. He reaches out and runs his hand down the side of my face delicately, before tracing the line of my bottom lip. I stare back at him, frozen, something inside of me not allowing me to move away from him like I know I should. “I’ve watched you with all three of them, treasure. I told you I have eyes and ears everywhere.”
My heart quickens and butterflies flitter their tiny wings all through my insides in a way I don’t understand. Fuck, he did, but I didn’t think to that extent. Heat radiates off me, embarrassment, shock, horror, but worst of all, lust at the way he looks at me like he wants to eat me alive. I’m turned on knowing he watched me. “You’re fucked in the head,” I say to him as much as myself.
He tilts his head, considering my words. “Not as much as I used to be, but for you, yeah, I guess it might look that way.”
I gawk back at him. What kind of answer is that? For me he’s fucked in the head. My chest rises and falls quickly as I try and get my breathing under control. My body is alight with desire knowing he’s been watching me. And how messed up does that make me? I know who he is, how evil he is, but right now, my body won’t get with the fucking program and see him for the monster he is. Desire pools deep within me, fucked up and real, my panties wet, my nipples pebbling so hard in my bra it’s painful. I should hate him. Idohate him, but I want him as well.
His eyes lock with mine in a way that tells me he knows exactly the effect he has on me; he’s enjoying this moment between us.
I drop my gaze from him, not needing this to escalate, because if I keep staring into his dark eyes, it’s going to, I already know it.
