Page 23 of Power and Possession

My eyes turned wide, the insult piercing my chest. The second he said the words, I deflated like a balloon. In my heart, I knew what my father was. But hearing Steele’s confirmation shattered my illusion.

He looked at me, and his hostile expression dropped. “Look, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that…”

I hung my head, feeling truly hopeless now. It didn’t matter. Nothing mattered anymore. I was never going to be free again. And the worst part? I wasn’t actually surprised.

Steele knelt by the side of the car, looking up into my face. “Stop that. You don’t get to feel sorry for yourself. That’s not the woman you are.”

I wanted to believe him, but more than anything, I wanted to go to bed. I wanted to wash this shitty day off of me, bandage and lick my wounds in private.

Steele sighed when I didn’t respond, and ran his fingers through his dark hair. It was messy, no longer combed back but sticking out at odd angles. He reached down pulled a knife out of his boot, and I just stared.

“I come at you with a knife, and you don’t even flinch?” He sighed again, then brought the knife up and cut the bonds securing my feet and hands. “Come on.”

I followed him through the garage, my feet leaving bloody marks on the concrete. He didn’t even look back at me, trusting I’d learned my lesson and wouldn’t try to run again.

The floor in the main hall was still soaked, and my feet left patterns of dirt and blood on the expensive rug. I was sure I would hear about it tomorrow. Steele stopped in front of the stairs, and motioned for me to go up. I half expected him tospank me like a misbehaving child, which both humiliated me and excited me. He gestured to another room, this one across the hall from his.

“There’s no windows in here, so don’t get any ideas,” he said, before shoving me inside. I heard the door lock behind me, and I groaned. I was back where I started, and it seemed like Steele was even less entranced by me than before. I was never going to be free. I laid down on the soft bed and let sleep take me.

A knock sounded at the door, and I heard the door unlock.

“Go away.” I was in absolutely no mood to see Steele after our fight.

“I have some new clothes for you. And if I was Mr. Steele, I wouldn’t have knocked.”

It was the butler. The more I interacted with him, the more guilt I felt for assaulting an old man, even though he knew I was being held against my will. But I was tired of wearing Steele’s clothing, and being surrounded by his scent was doing funny things to my brain. I sighed and sauntered over to the door, opening it just a crack to make sure Steele wasn’t present as well.

The man stood there in a crisp black suit, holding a garment bag and a pair of heels in his hands, as well as a small shopping bag. I recognized the hunter green bag and gold writing on it right away–Harrods. Steele might be a master manipulator, but he had good taste. I opened the door a bit wider, and the man strolled in, his shiny dress shoes squelching as he walked on the saturated carpet.

“What’s your name again?” I asked as he placed the clothing items on the bed.

“Quincy,” he replied, his voice a bit stern. I saw the small bruise on the side of his head from his fall. It was fair enough that he would resent me.

Walking towards the bed, I unzipped the garment bag,but there was only a black cocktail dress inside.

“Wait, this is just a–”

“Mr. Steele wishes you to be ready to go in an hour,” Quincy answered, and then shut the door behind him with a little more force than necessary.

Be ready to go in an hour? Where the hell was I going? I searched through the Harrods shopping bag and found a variety of cosmetics. Underneath that was the sexiest and most revealing pair of underwear I’d ever seen in my entire life. And of course, there was a matching bra. Black and see-through, it afforded barely any support, but given the fact that I didn’t have a bra in my possession at all, it would have to do. The fresh panties excited me more than they should, even if they were a ridiculous thong, which honestly had never made sense to me. What was the point of wearing a scrap of fabric that barely covered anything?

I rubbed my eyes and caught a glimpse of my appearance in the mirror. Dark circles made my eyes look sunken and dull, and my hair was flat. I was still wearing Steele’s shirt, and despite me trying to wash out my underwear in the sink, it was a far cry from fresh. I felt my resolve lessen throughout my body as I took both garment and shopping bag into the bathroom.

I hung the bag and dumped the cosmetics on the counter, searching until I found shampoo. Thrilled, I turned on the shower and hopped inside, fully enjoying the ability to get clean with actual beauty products. I spent a good half an hour under the water, humming and washing the mingled smell of sex and sweat off my body. Having Steele’s scent all over me was such a paradox. One half of me absolutely loathed the man, and the other part of me wanted nothing more than to get underneath him again, or perhaps even on top this time.

I dried off and then spent some time on my hair, arranging it in an elegant updo, and then I put on the make-up, feeling less pale and more like myself rather than a hostage.

I unzipped the garment bag and took a long look at the black dress inside, and then gasped.

I enjoyed fashion as much as the average Park Place resident, but this dress was a work of art. It had one strap that clasped at the shoulder with a thick band of diamonds holding the two sides of the dress together. It came down to the knee, hugging my curves as I pulled it up over my hips. The middle of the dress was cut out, but only tiny bits of my stomach were exposed; instead, intricate strands of loosely woven diamonds started at my hip and moved just underneath my breast on the other side, creating a shimmering diamond belt. I looked for a tag inside and couldn’t find anything, but I knew this was a one of a kind dress, and, more likely than not, based on what I’d pieced together about Steele, these were real diamonds.

I wanted to hate it. I wanted to throw the dress out the window and let it get bleached by the sun and moldy in the rain. I wanted the moths to feast on it, to show Steele that he couldn’t buy me off, couldn’t pass me off as another valuable possession he owned. But…I couldn’t help but stare at my silhouette in the long, floor length mirror, and admire how the diamonds sparkled under the light. I couldn’t get past how different I looked from just an hour before.

I heard the door open, and I stepped out of the bathroom to find Steele standing in the middle of the room, a tuxedo clinging to his large frame. He had shaved since that morning, and his hair was styled. He looked as handsome and dark as ever. And his eyes…they were hot and intense, focusing on every inch of my body, starting at my legs, feasting on the high stilettos that seemed to fix my lazy posture, then he moved up my legs, and I was glad I’d taken the time to carefully shave. When his eyes got to the diamond-studded cutout, his pupils constricted, and I knew he liked what he saw. Finally, I felt his hot gaze trail over my breasts before settling on my face. I could tell he was struggling to keep the calm mask he wore upon his face, but his mouth opened slightly as he took in the entire ensemble.

For the first time in a long time, I felt beautiful.

I had average looks—nothing special, nothing to stop a man in his tracks. I’d had boyfriends, sure, but none that lastedlong. Coming from the family I did, I was never sure who liked me for me, or who liked me for my wealthy father and prominent connections.

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