Page 27 of Power and Possession

It was even darker and quieter there. The staircase led to a hall off of the entryway, and my footsteps echoed until Ireached the rug in the middle of the room. A grand piano stood in one corner, as well as a huge, ornate fountain surrounded by greenery. I was used to large mansions, used to echoing noises and the smell of antique rugs, but something about this place was…off. The hair on the back of my neck stood up, and my bare arms prickled with goosebumps, like a sense of foreboding. Still, I wanted to be free of Steele, free of this horrible situation my father put me in. I had no doubt that he had done something to undermine Steele. I wasn’t unaware of my father’s unfavorable qualities. He was known for his ruthlessness, his unwillingness to back down and admit defeat. When I was a freshman in high school, my father bought out an entire company and then ran it into the ground just because the owner used to work for him. He wasn’t a forgiving man.

I believed my father loved me, but I also knew that he was cold and distant. I didn’t want to admit it to even myself, but I worried that he wouldn’t bother to retrieve me from Steele, especially after Steele’s harsh confession to me in the garage last night. If this was the case, I had to do Steele’s bidding in order to free myself. And, once I did, I’d leave the UK and go somewhere different and set up a new life for myself, using a new name. Perhaps I’d go to Iceland, or New Zealand…and I’d never be Ashlynn Phillips again.

My foot hit the first step of the carpeted runner—which featured an ugly flower pattern with mauve colored birds—and I tiptoed up the stairs. There was a huge balcony above the second floor, and I looked down to make sure there was no one to witness my trespassing. When the coast was clear, I headed to the right, looking in the first room I found. It was a guest bedroom, with a large four-poster bed and a giant wardrobe in the corner. On the walls were several impressionist paintings, tying together the carpet and the white linens. Not what I was looking for. I closed the door gently, glanced over my shoulder, and tried the next door. This room was a music room, and except for some framed music sheets, there was no art to be found.

The third door on the right opened up to an elegant study,with solid oak bookshelves lining two sides of the walls. A desk was in the corner, and, on the other side, a couch. Against the farthest wall there was a large stone fireplace, and, above it, the painting.

I moved closer to it, examining every inch. Oil on canvas, the title ‘Nafea Faa Ipoipo’ etched in the corner. This was the painting Steele needed info on. I carefully looked around the frame and the back; there didn’t appear to be any kind of security around it, and instead it just hung by a simple wire. I stepped back, taking in the bright colors for a few minutes, becoming more entranced by the painting the longer I studied it. I looked at the two figures in the foreground, trying to discern their mood, and their relationship to the two figures in the back.

Suddenly, a large hand covered my mouth, and another arm wrapped around my torso, holding my arms in place. My muffled scream didn’t make it more than a few feet, so I did the only thing I could think of, and bit down as hard as I could on the fingers covering my mouth. The hand let go, and I screamed and turned, trying to make it back to the door.

I wasn’t fast enough. My attacker got there first, his large, portly frame blocking the exit. He was tall, perhaps as tall as Steele, but he was easily twice the weight. His belly hung over his slacks, and his tuxedo buttons were straining to keep his enormous girth in place. His dark hair was slicked back, and his mustache was oiled, making him look like a vaudeville villain. I moved back towards the corner of the room, behind the desk, as the man stared at me with beady, hungry eyes.

“Well what do we have here?” he asked, his voice throaty and oddly high. “A little intruder? Did you slip into the party and hope to make off with some treasures?” Without taking his eyes off of me, he pulled a key from his inside pocket and locked the door.

I gulped, fear gripping my heart. My back was literally against a wall. I didn’t know how I could possibly talk my way out of this situation, but I had to try.

“I was looking for the bathroom,” I croaked, voicewavering.

He sprung toward me, and I ducked under the desk, crawling through it and then scrambling to the door. I kicked it sharply with my heel and banged as hard as I could with my fists, praying someone would hear me.

I was dragged backwards by my hair and then thrown on the floor. I rolled onto my stomach, trying desperately to crawl back towards the door, but I’d had too much to drink, and I wasn’t thinking or moving as fast as I should. I was pulled backwards again.

He leered over me, flipping me onto my back and holding me down with his legs. With his full weight on me, I couldn’t move at all, and I felt a hot tear run down my cheek.

“American? Just look at those lovely teeth,” he said, his face red with exertion. He placed a finger on my lips before forcing one inside my mouth, then pulling it out before I could bite him again. “I’ve always wanted to fuck an American.”

Panic seized my chest, and I bucked my hips, trying desperately to get him off of me. But he just laughed, the sound sinister.

“I think you want it just as much as I want to give it to you,” he said, and then he tugged at the strap of my dress.

“No!” I cried, trying desperately to free my hands from his grip, but he was too big and too strong. My dress strap snapped and he pulled down the front of the gown. I stopped breathing, my worst fear coming to life before me.

It was like everything was moving in slow motion, and my mind instantly tried to protect me from what was happening. I could hear my breath, feel my pulse hammering in my neck, but my attacker’s words were suddenly drowned out as I focused on my breathing. I was vaguely aware of my dress being lifted to my thighs, and my attacker reaching down to unzip his pants.

A loud crash brought me out of my stupor, and the man’s eyes widened as he was suddenly pulled off me.

Steele grabbed him by the neck and forced him againstthe opposite wall, strangling him. The man sputtered, his face changing from red to purple at an alarming rate.

“What the fuck do you think you are doing to my woman?” His yell was so loud, so feral, that I imagined everyone outside could hear it. “I’ll murder you here in cold blood for even thinking about touching what ismine.” He growled the word mine, and for a second, I couldn’t help but feel like his property, and for once I didn’t care.

The man’s eyes continued to bulge, both spit and mangled sentences spewing from his mouth. Steele knocked the man’s head against the wall again, and his body hit the rug with a loud thud. I watched as Steele kicked him in the side so hard there was no doubt that it would cause internal damage.

He turned to face me, and I realized that even the angry Steele I’d been dealing with before was the tame version—a teddy bear compared to the cold, savage beast that leered before me. His blue eyes, the warmest thing about him, were now glacier blue, and his brow was so furrowed that it actually formed a true v. His cheeks were crimson with anger, and his entire body seemed to grow in size. Every muscle shook with untamed rage, and his eyes were wide and unblinking.

I started bawling.

Huge, obnoxious sobs racked my body, and I trembled from head to toe as I lay on the carpet, missing a shoe, my dress torn. My bra was exposed and the dress was shimmied up my thighs. I was broken. There I was, far away from home, trapped and forced to live with a beast, taken hostage again, stolen back, and then almost raped by a monster. I closed my eyes, hating this version of me. My breath became so uneven that I was gasping, pulling air into my greedy lungs as I tried to figure out the shamble that had become my life.

A gentle touch to my cheek forced me to open my eyes, and before I could acknowledge what was happening, Steele moved to the floor beside me, and pulled me delicately onto his lap.

“Shhhhhhhhh…” he whispered, stroking my hair as he held me. “I’ve got you, Ash. He can’t hurt you. None of that now, love. Where’s my fiery bird? The girl that would burn down the world rather than take shit from anyone?”

I blinked, and a few more rogue tears trailed down my cheeks. I hiccupped a few times, my body quieting as Steele continued to rock me, murmuring in my ear and rubbing my back as if I was a newborn babe. I hated this man, but, for the second time in two days, he was my savior. My jailor, and my savior. The juxtaposition messed with my thoughts, but the unthinking, visceral part of me clung to this man, and I burrowed my face into his strong chest, smelling his masculine scent, feeling safe in the arms of my captor. It was so incredibly messed up.

I didn’t know how long Steele held me for, but eventually my breathing returned to normal. Once I started shivering, Steele moved me off his lap and helped me to stand upright. The second I stood, my broken dress strap fell, and I put my hands in front of my chest, desperately trying to cover myself. Pity crossed his face as he removed his tux jacket and placed it around my shoulders, before buttoning it up. I instantly felt safer, feeling the weight of his jacket surrounding me. It was like a magic cloak, protecting me from everything that went bump in the night.

Steele turned and bent over to retrieve my lost shoe, and I noted the irony when he slipped it on my foot. Cinderella, my ass. He inspected my ankles carefully, and I knew he was thinking back to the night before when I was wearing another captor’s chains.

---