Page 11 of Save You

I smile warmly at this beautiful, naïve boy, who is looking so incredibly disgusted, I feel bad for giving him an ulterior, dark reality to the one that he knows.

“Tom,” I whisper, “I have never had consensual sex. Not even when it was my sixteenth birthday and my soon-to-be husband climbed on top of my body and ripped my virginity away from me.”

We stare at one another for a long time, his eyes searching mine for some sort of hint that I’m exaggerating, or lying even, but when he finds nothing but the ugly truth of my words, he suddenly stands with quiet rage. He then walks over to the window with his hands balled into tight fists and leans up against the alcove. He takes a few moments to stare out into the garden I have yet to see in daylight. He seems to be seeking solace in the peace and tranquility of outside, in his normal everyday world.

“I’m sorry.”

I feel ashamed for sharing such personal information with him, particularly as it seems to have upset him so much. Tom looks around at me fast enough to give him whiplash, with a cold fury in his eyes and a look that scares me a little.

“Don’t ever say you’re sorry, darlin,” he growls through his clenched teeth, “ever!”

“Ok,” I mumble, still unsure as to whether he is angry with me or not.

“And you’re staying here,” he says decidedly, even pointing down toward the carpet as he says so. “I will make sure you are safe from him; I promise you that, Rosie!”

And I believe him.

Chapter 4

Now

Beth

“Oh, Beth, you look simply wonderful!” Mrs Lawrence grins at me like I’m a priceless ornament. “Wait until Oliver sees you!”

“Did someone mention my name?” All of us jump back to see Oliver dressed in his black tux, casually standing in the doorway where he is leaning up against the dark wooden frame.

As soon as he spies me from behind his mother, he suddenly stands up straight and gives me dark, hooded eyes, with no subtlety as to what he’s thinking about. He studies me up and down, taking just a little bit longer on my curves. I must say his ‘dream team’ has managed quite the transformation on me. I now look like a blond version of Jessica Rabbit, her chest included. Fortunately, my floor-length red dress is a corset back so I could discretely slip it over my slightly pronounced belly, while the dresser pulled me in so tight, I felt dizzy. My stomach is almost flat as I stand before him, though whatever extra weight I am carrying has now been pushed up into my already growing bust. My hair is set in big blonde curls and my makeup is as flawless as his mother’s. I hardly recognize myself; I hate it.

“Ladies, may I ask you all to leave so I can have a few minutes with my rather stunning fiancée,” he orders before sauntering towards me.

He hands over a wad of cash to the two girls who have just dressed and styled me to resemble someone I no longer recognize. They grin discreetly at one another, then rush out before he changes his mind. His mother is not so easily dismissed and crosses her arms to show as much.

“Oliver, remember what I said! Tradition!”

“Mother?” Oliver says as he slides his hand around my waist and crushes me up against his chest. “Get out before I ask Dad to come engage you in conversation.”

I see her grimace over the idea of that threat and part of me feels like giggling, but the bigger part of me is hoping she will ignore him and stay firmly inside of the room with me. She seems to be the only person who can tame his urges when it comes to me. Unfortunately, she tsks before stomping out in a huff and slamming the door firmly in her wake.

“Now, where were we earlier before my interfering mother came in without being invited?”

He brushes his hand over my face again, before pressing his erection against my stomach. He pushes his nose into the crook of my neck and takes a long inhale, groaning on the exhale as he simultaneously directs me back toward the bed.

“Oliver, please…” I whisper, but he doesn’t stop rubbing against me, making it abundantly clear as to what he’s after. “Oliver…”

Annoyed by my attempts to stop him, he grips my chin painfully between his finger and thumb, all the while giving me an expression that is halfway between lust and anger.

“A Mayfield wife doesn’t answer back, and she certainly doesn’t refuse. Do.You.Understand.Me?” His eyes look as though they are brewing a storm of anger within him, unnerving me so much, that I begin to shiver. I nod my head rapidly if only to calm him down and to stop him from hurting me. My body isn’t only housing my own life anymore and I need to remember that. “Good girl. You’ll get there, Beth, I promise.”

At that moment, fate must be smiling down on me because his attempts are halted by the sound of someone thudding urgently on the door.

“What?!” Oliver yells in frustration to whoever has dared to interrupt him from molesting his fiancé.

“Apologies, Sir,” a man dressed in a much cheaper black suit says in a fluster. The choice to interrupt someone like Oliver Lawrence is not one I can imagine many people choose to do, not unless they absolutely have to. Whatever the reason for doing so must be pretty dire, but it only makes my heart begin to beat a bit harder as it lets a fraction of hope start to seep in. “There seems to be a disturbance on the perimeter on the Western side of the property.”

“So, deal with it!” Oliver growls, still with his hands on me, but now looking seriously pissed-off. “Where’s Rogers?”

“That’s the reason I’m here, Mr Lawrence,” the poor man says with his Adam apple bobbing up and down, as though swallowing back his immense fear, which I can see swimming within his eyes. It must also be how mine always look when in this man’s intimidating presence. “Rogers has been taken out, Sir!”

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