He was her enemy, the man who would probably murder her, not her knight in shining armor. She’d always had the worst taste in men. Now that she was old enough to think objectively, Scarlett blamed a lot of her poor decision making on her deadbeat father. Desperate for acceptance, part of her forever tried to gain his approval through the eyes of men,. It was the only reason she could be attracted to Bain, thriving off his compliments and yearning for his affection. She knew it was wrong and twisted, but she couldn’t help herself. Maybe he’d see something special in her, unlike his other victims, unlike Alexei Semenov.
“So you’ll just stay by yourself forever? That sounds lonely.” Scarlett tried to convince herself she was just calming the beast, befriending her captor so he’d have pity on her. But that was a lie. Bain interested her—the reporter, the victim … the woman.
“You’
re not married,” he said.
“That’s not by choice. My past relationship didn’t exactly work out according to plan.”
“If you’re so worried about being lonely, why didn’t you make it work?”
Scarlett didn’t want to talk anymore. She felt her body stiffening, closing from the inside out. It was easy to block out the past, but it was always there, eating away at her. Soon there’d be nothing left.
Bain turned around and looked at her. “I thought you wanted to talk?”
“Not anymore.” She refused to look him in the eye.
“Soft spot?”
“Whatever,” she said.
“Yeah, that’s why I like to be alone. People always disappoint. The only person I trust is myself.” He rolled out his shoulders and settled back into the tub. “Now, tell me why you didn’t make it work.”
She narrowed her eyes, even though he couldn’t see her. “I said I’m done talking.”
“Actually, you’re not. We had an agreement, you and I. You know the consequences if you piss me off.”
Tears stung her eyes. He couldn’t make her talk about herself. Then again, if she wanted to live she had to humor him. She could lie, give a good story to appease him, but she was all about the truth. It was why she became a reporter in the first place. She started by helping families being taken advantage of by unethical landlords and women struggling to recoup child support from absentee fathers. She wanted to make the world a better place.
“I told you why I didn’t make it work. My last boyfriend was abusive. I couldn’t live like that,” she said.
“But you wouldn’t be lonely.”
She shook her head. “There are things worse than being lonely.”
He ran his hands over his scalp, the short buzz cut making a scraping sound. “Exactly my point.”
Was he referring to the men who’d abused him? “You said you wanted to tell your story. What’s your reason for living here alone?”
“If you’re talking about a woman, it’s not possible for me.” He rose to his feet, the water rushing down his hard, muscled frame as he stood. This time his back was to her, each muscle hard and defined. He reached for a towel, first drying his face, then wrapping it securely around his lower half. She studied the artwork on his torso as he moved. “I was one of the oldest boys in the compound, and because of my looks, they trained me to seduce women. It’s all a blur now, the fucking, the killing. I really don’t want to remember those days.”
“I don’t understand,” she said.
“You asked why I’m alone.” He walked into his bedroom. Bain twirled her chair around, with her still securely on it, as he left the en-suite. “That’s why. I was forced to be with so many different women for so many fucking years that it numbed me. Emotions, love, everything—it’s all gone. Why would I choose to be with a woman now? I just need to be left alone.”
“People can change, recover from unspeakable horrors. I’ve seen it. I know it’s possible.”
He put on black boxer briefs that hugged his hard ass and strong legs. Scarlett watched him walk about the room from the closet to the dresser. He finally tugged on a pair of navy jogging pants but didn’t put on a shirt. She tried not to be too obvious as she snuck in peeks of him. Would he be as hard as he looked? Bain settled on the corner of his king-sized bed, staring at her with such intensity that her words caught in her throat.
“You have no idea the horrors I’ve lived, sweetheart. I promise whatever you’ve been through is a cake walk compared to my shit life.”
“There’s good left in everyone,” she whispered. Scarlett wouldn’t let him drag her down. She’d been fighting depression for too many damn years. She was barely a shell of woman, fragile and empty. She wanted to think positive, to improve herself and move upward—and she firmly believed Bain could do the same.
He smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “Those bastards said I was handsome, irresistible to women. That’s why they used me.” Bain stood and approached her, grabbed the edge of her chair and dragged it back to his bed. He sat back down on his mattress, only a breath between them now. “All that’s changed now,” he said.
“What do you mean?”
Bain took her wrist and placed her palm on his chest. His skin was so firm and warm, her pussy throbbing from just that one touch. “Feel me. Really feel me.”