Page 3 of Fallen Petal

Chapter 1

J

It’s been less than a week since she vanished off the face of the Earth. A lot has happened since then, with her, with me, with the two of us. She woke up in a state that was far more shocked than I anticipated, but backed with the kind of strength that has always kept her on her feet.

I only did this to her because I knew she could handle it. I knew she would hate me for it. I knew she would fear me. I knew she would suffer, she would cry and try to fight me as well as she could.

But I also knew that she would soon turn this experience into her very own reality. She made it her own long before I expected her to. I hate it when my plans get toyed with, when someone interferes and robs me of control that is solely mine.

She did that when I tied her to the bed. I never planned to allow myself to explode like that, to mark her beautiful body with my cum before I forced her to lick it clean. But I couldn’t help myself. Seeing her spread out in front of me, her naked body at my disposal, with no one to stop us, no one to disrupt the tension between us—and her dark eyes looking up at me with that horny despair.

I should have fucked her then. I was very close to doing it. But something held me back. Those damn voices at the back of my head, the judgmental faces. Will I ever be able to get rid of them? I’ll have to if this is to turn out the way we both want it to.

But how do you cast away inhibitions that have been forced on you for most of your life? I was never allowed near her, not since that day when I helped her for the first time. She wasn’t even brushing at the transition between a child and a young woman back then, way too young to consider her this way.

But that didn’t stop me from falling for her, ten fucking years ago. My agony has accompanied me for an entire decade. It shouldn’t surprise me that there was no power left for restraint.

At least I didn’t give in to the urge of fucking her.

Yet.

I can’t do it until she’s ready, until she asks me to do it. That’s the deal. And I’m a man who’s true to his word, especially when it comes to her.

Unfortunately, I’m also a man who’s made a name for himself and who’s sought after, no matter whether I’m up for it or not. I can’t disappear into the shadows, as much as I’d like to. But while I was prepared to face the outside world, no matter what was going on in my own home, this particular call is especially annoying.

Because it’s him.

Malia warned me that Christopher would reach out to me, but when his call came only a day later, I still felt overrun by it. And I certainly don’t appreciate the fact that he’s asking to see me in person. When I asked him why, he kept it vague, excusing himself by saying that the matter was too precarious to be discussed on the phone.

That’s why I’m sitting here at the station house like a fucking idiot, waiting to be called in by him. It’s my first time out of the house ever since she woke up, and while I’m sure I shouldn’t have anything to worry about, I can’t help but. Malia is there, but not inside her room, because I wouldn’t allow it. Every time Malia stepped inside to bring her food, I was standing outside the door, out of sight, granting her access to the room and waiting right there until she stepped back out—while watching every single move and listening to every word spoken between them on my tablet.

She may not be able to get inside Petal’s room without my help, but she’s inside the house, with access to one of the panels that display the images caught by the camera in Petal’s bedroom. If anything were to happen, if Petal did anything we wouldn’t want her to, Malia would alert me about it right away. Still, I fucking hope my phone won’t buzz in the middle of my conversation with Christopher.

“Jayson!”

He greets me as if we were old friends, marching toward me with wide and confident steps as he reaches out his hand for a shake. Christopher has aged since I last saw him. His hair is thinning as is his waistline, emphasizing the new furrows on his face. He’s a few years younger than me, still a young man, but looking at the two of us, most people would assume him to be the senior. The smile on his face is crooked and so fake that it makes my blood boil. I know he only wears it out here, for show. It’s not for my benefit but for the people in our vicinity, his colleagues mostly.

I refrain from displaying my inner disgust at his friendly gesture and opt for a friendly smile instead, taking his hand in mine with a tight squeeze that makes his face twitch. “Christopher.”

“Glad you could come,” he says as he beckons me to follow him.

“Didn’t really have a choice, did I?”

He casts me a curious look from the side, no longer smiling but with a hardened expression on his face. Whatever he may have to say in response remains his secret, because my remark is met with nothing but silence.

We step inside an office at the far end of the hallway. Christopher hurries to close the door behind us, making it seem as if he couldn’t wait to be alone in a room with me.

I can’t say that the feeling is mutual.

“Sit,” he tells me, pointing to an uncomfortable-looking armchair opposite a small gray desk that must be his. “Want something to drink?”

“No thanks,” I reply, following his brusque offer as I sit down. “Let’s just get to the point.”

He takes his seat opposite to me, falling back into his leathery office chair with his arms crossed in front of his chest.

“Alright,” he says, arching an eyebrow at me. “When was the last time you saw her?”

I sigh. “You know we didn’t have much contact. Not after she left town back then—”

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