“No. She won’t leave. As long as Luc is alive, her family’s at risk. Why didn’t I see this before?” He found it difficult to speak the words with his throat constricting.
“What the hell are you talking about?”
“She’ll protect her family no matter the cost. She’s going to kill Luc or die trying.” Henry jumped up. The tension moved to his chest. “I have to stop her.” Grabbing a gun from the dresser, he headed toward the door.
Simon called after him. “You’ll be the cause of her death if you show up guns blazing. Think. You never reacted like this in the service.”
Henry paused. The reason for his actions struck him in the gut like a lead bullet wrapped in lace. “I’ve never had so much at stake.”
Chapter Twenty-Nine
When the last guest departed, Alex lumbered toward her room with Pascal close on her heels. “Can you hold my crutches a minute?”
He obliged her by pushing her into the oncoming stairs. Her wrist hit one stair and the cast slammed hard into another. The pain shot throughout her body and caused her eyes to tear up. She stayed in the awkward position, inhaling and exhaling until the stabbing ache receded. Pascal stood over her grinning like a schoolyard bully.
Her gown had ripped in the fall. It didn’t matter, though. She didn’t intend to wear it again. She forced herself into a sitting position and caught her breath. The marble chilled her through the thin material and sent an arctic shiver through her limbs. If Luc thought she was tormenting Pascal, he’d hurt one of her sisters or the children again. She needed to hold herself together until they were safe.
With a burst of adrenaline, she struggled to stand. The crutches remained a few feet away on the floor. Lifting the dress past her calves to prevent herself from tripping again, she climbed step by step. The pain in her leg made for a slower climb, but it also prodded her forward, a warning of things to come if she didn’t buck up and fight.
Luc had left the table with some redheaded tramp named Matilde. The girl was looking for a shortcut to wealth and would find that shortcuts typically led to dead ends. But she might provide Alex a few extra hours to figure out a way to finish this game tonight.
Limping toward her room, she maintained a certain distance from Pascal. He didn’t seem worried about her trying to escape. Instead, he mumbled apologies into his phone for his long absence from whatever desperate female he’d convinced to date him.
She entered her bedroom and shut the door, leaving Pascal on the other side. The lock clicked into place. Luc had arranged to keep her in, but not him out. Dragging herself over to the bed, she leaned against the headboard and elevated her leg with a pillow. After a few minutes, she shifted her foot. As much as the position helped the swelling, her leg felt as though fire ants were swarming under the cast. She kicked the pillow aside with her other leg and let her broken leg rest flat.
They’d left her with nothing in the room to use as a weapon. No lamps, statues, fireplace tools. They’d even taken her crutches. Only two Queen Anne chairs remained by the window. The heavy brocade curtains over the windows wouldn’t help her, either. She had nothing.
She wouldn’t rely on anyone else. Were Simon and Nicola allies or enemies to her or each other? She didn’t know who to trust anymore. The dining room had quaked from their open hostility. After Simon had left, Luc knelt at Nicola’s side and caressed her shoulders to ease her fiery emotions. She’d left dinner early, while Luc had escorted the redhead to someplace comfortable to discuss “opportunities.”
For the moment, Nicola and Alex shared a common imprisonment. Luc would never allow Nicola to walk away from him, even while he was interviewing someone else for her job. They had to stay put and wait. Hopefully, Nicola would be free after Alex figured out an escape from this nightmare existence.
The handle to the door turned. Luc walked in. His blazer was gone and his shirt untucked. He looked like a man who’d just finished screwing a redhead. He shut the door behind him and wandered slowly to the bed.
“Alex, darling, you look tired.” She hated when he called her darling. He’d called her darling before raping her the first time, and the word now burned her ears.
“Exhausted.” Every tired muscle alerted, ready to fight.
“Feel free to fall asleep. I’ve decided to consummate our marriage tonight. Your body is all I need.” He spoke as though molesting her was a bore, but a necessity.
Icy fear spread through her veins. She shifted to the opposite side of the bed. Rejection would infuriate him, but she couldn’t convince herself to cooperate with his demands.
“Don’t play hard to get. I’ve already had my share of dominating someone against her will tonight, and I’m not in the mood to call Pascal in to hold you down.”
The thought of Pascal seeing her so vulnerable soured her stomach and stopped her retreat.
“That’s my girl.” He stretched over the bed and pulled her toward him. “You’re mine, Alex, until your death. Never forget that.”
She scanned the room again, in case a magical weapon appeared since Luc had entered. No such luck. He had the upper hand.
He brushed her hair back. “I miss your long hair. If you live long enough, you’ll have to grow it out for me.”
Kissing her shoulder, he slowly unzipped her gown. Alex shivered at his touch. His fingers felt like a scorpion crawling on her skin, waiting for the right moment to sting. The gown loosened; a strap slipped off one of her shoulders. Her body began to tremble. How do you fight a man who strips down your defenses, both physically and emotionally?
“You’re so beautiful. The perfect complement to my art collection.” He kissed behind her ear and grasped a bunch of her hair to expose her neck. “If you behave, we could do amazing things together in the art world.”
She tried to back away. His hand had twisted her hair through fisted fingers.
The grip on her hair tightened, and he wrenched her head back. “What the fuck is this?”