CHAPTER TWO
Pet
Istare at the house. Its huge white columns tower above us, and I feel small and dirty beside them. A street rat in a palace. They say I grew up here, but I don’t remember it. I don’t remember the man standing next to me who’s supposed to be my father. Nor do I know the uniformed maid, or the hired goons spit-shined and polished in expensive suits, and I definitely don’t know the man waiting at the top of the stairs with a huge bouquet in his hands.
Parker. According to Doctor Flynn, I was ready to spend the rest of my life with him, but I don’t feel anything when I stare at his perfectly put together ensemble, or his light sandy blond hair, or the bright blue eyes filled with so much . . . hope?
I sigh.
My father turns to look at me. “He’s had it hard, you know?”
He’s had it hard?Why? Because his girlfriend was kidnapped, abused, and turned into a sex slave, and his perfect life is now tarred by association? “How terrible for him.”
“He was very worried about you, Camille.”
That’s not my name!I shout it over and over in my head, but no one hears. They couldn’t possibly understand why I hate being called that.
My father grabs my elbow, and I jerk away.
“Don’t touch me.”
“You’re making a scene.” He warns. I glance around at the gathered staff, at my fiancé. All of them are strangers to me.Making a scene?I can give him a scene.
“I’m not staying here.”
“Of course you are.”
“I don’t know you.” I turn and glance at my father. “I don’t know any of you.”
“Don’t be ridiculous. This is your childhood home.”
“A childhood I don’t remember!” I turn and stalk back to the car, but my father’s security steps in my way. “Move.”
“I can’t do that, miss.”
I reel around and glare at the man I’m meant to trust because people told me our blood is the same. I’m just supposed to go with him? To stay here with these people I don’t know? I think I prefer the sterility of the hospital room. At least there, I had Maximus.
Doctor Flynn’s expression is cold, his eyes narrowed into icy blue slits, and his features are filled with distaste.
“You can’t keep me prisoner here.”
“Actually, he can,” Parker says, stepping closer. “You’re not of sound mind, Camille. The doctors released you into your father’s care only because they believed you would heal better at home, in a familiar environment.”
Parker hands the flowers to the maid. Wild red curls spring free from her bun. She has a kind face, full of empathy and pity, and she wrings her hands around the stems. Parker takes my arm.
No! He’s not my Sir. I hate him.
“Don’t touch me. Don’t you dare fucking touch me! I don’t know you! You do not get to touch me. I belong tohim!”
Silence falls over the gathered strangers. Parker and my father exchange alarmed glances, and I shrink into myself, crouching on the ground. I can’t breathe. I can’t do this without him. He let me go. He set me free, and he signed my death certificate all with the same selfless gesture.
Ares left me.
Strong arms band around my waist, and I screech. I kick and flail as the bodyguard lifts me over his shoulder in a fireman’s carry and surges up the steps and through the front door. I beat my fists on my captor’s back, wriggle, and attempt to knee him in the stomach as he carries me up another flight of stairs. He walks into a room at the end of the hall and tosses me on the bed. I spit at him, and he points a thick, stubby finger in my face. “Stay.”
The security guard stalks away and slams the door. A key turns in the lock, and then the sound of his footsteps retreating sends my pulse skyrocketing.He locked me in. No.No!
I sprint across the room, frantically yanking on the doorknob. I pound my fists on the door.He let me go. Ares let me go, and here I am, imprisoned in another cell. This one is far worse than the cage he put me in, because he’s not here. He let me go, and I’m no freer than I was in that room.