Page 94 of Wanted
“Not even Alex knew,” Jordan revealed, and my heart broke for his son. There were no secrets among these men. To find out that there had been a secret after all must have hurt. “Fylox didn’t want him to know. If we told Alex that it was sex trafficking, it was still a distant concept. Katantia’s all over the news. The internet is full of images. Fylox wanted it to be kept private.”
“HE THREATENED TO KILL ME.” I panted, unable to control myself. “Multiple times.”
“He didn’t, though,” Jordan commented, and for a brief moment, I wondered what it would’ve been like if the men that invaded Alex’s home had actually hurt him. It would’ve given him a lesson that he wasn’t invincible.
“You left me alone with a man who was raped in my country,” I miffed, my brain ready to explode. My babies hadn’t managed to distract me, after all. I was an angry mess. “And you know what? He should’ve just killed me. Then we wouldn’t be in this mess.”
“Don’t say that,” Jordan said. He took a step toward me.
“Why are you here, Jordan? Why did we come back here? We were fine in Indianapolis,” I asked, pacing. “WHY?”
“Time’s up.”
“What does that mean?” I implored. I exhaled in frustration. “Is that why I know Fylox’s dad? I recognized him at the wedding. He had a private audience with Aram once upon a time.”
Jordan remained quiet, but his eyes spoke volumes. He took one last glance at me, and then he turned around. Calmer, he walked back to my house.
Between the branches of the trees, I studied the outline of the palace.
This pussy is mine. Don’t ever forget that.
♥♠♥
I couldn’t believe my eyes.
Alex and Fylox sat on my bed, watching me pace around in my walk-in closet. Fylox traced lines on his arms, pretending to be absent. Alex’s eyes studied me closely. He didn’t want to let me out of his sight.
“You can’t go out in that,” Alex commented. His gasp sounded like music to my ears.
I glanced at myself in the free-standing mirror with the golden engraving. One look, and I knew that I was back in Katantia. My fingers jittered, but I hid them from Alex’s hungry gaze. He would worry too much. I wasn’t over the fact that Fylox had been abused in my country, but the men had buried the hatchet already. They’d talked about it behind closed doors. When they reappeared in my room, Alex’s eyes had been red. Fylox wasn’t mentally with us, but he acted like it. I pretended to go along with it.
My long red hair was wavy and loose. I had put on make-up, heavy one at that. I’d almost forgotten how to apply my dark blue eyeshadow that made my nearly black eyes pop. I had curled my eyelashes, and now they were huge. I wore red lipstick, a shade lighter than my cherry hair.
Aram would be proud at the sight of me. I swallowed. My heart pounded inside my chest, and I felt relieved that Alex wasn’t here to feel my pulse. I was as skinny as Aram had always wished me to be, finally after ten years of torture. It didn’t matter how much food Alex tried to stuff me with. I had lost a considerable amount of weight. My legs looked lost in the spaghetti-strapped indigo dress with an open back that ended midthigh. My chest size hadn’t suffered; I figured that all the horniness had paid off. The small group of anti-plastic surgery cults downtown were right after all. “Be horny! Don’t get botched!”
“Fylox, look at her,” Alex pleaded with his friend. My husband sounded like he was in pain. Butterflies fluttered around excitedly inside of me at the thought of Alex as my husband. The heavy ring on my finger cemented that. Jordan and Fylox’s dad came through for us. They forged a couple of signatures, and now, we were officially wed in the States.
“Yeah?” Fylox was indifferent. He preferred me naked and at his feet.
“What do you have to say about that outfit?”
“Pair it with heels. It’ll make your legs seem even longer,” Fylox commented with amusement. I chuckled. My legs were already endless but good idea. I was surrounded by tall men. Not even heels would make me look big next to them. I had the perfect pair for the occasion.
I tilted my head in their direction. “You can own me all you want, husband and… Fylox. But you’ll never tell me what to wear ever again. We did that for almost five months, and I felt like a nun.”
“So you don’t want to wear our shirts?” Alex asked, folding his hands on his lap.
I bit my lip. “You don’t make me wear them. I steal them from you, and Fylox always gets upset.”
“But… Is it safe? To walk around dressed freely like this?” Alex wondered.
I nodded. “For me, yes. People admire me, and they fear the palace. Other women… not so much. Unfortunately.”
“It’s not your fault,” Alex responded.
“It kind of is. I never saw past my own issues. I used to talk to these women every day… I could’ve made change happen.”
Sighing, Alex asked, “Did they ask you for help?”
