Page 41 of Brutal Savior

That absolute bastard. I roll over to glare at him, wincing when it presses the plug further in. He smirks, and a loud buzz sounds out. “I’d hurry, unless you want Seb to see you naked. He’s here.”

Chapter Sixteen

Quinn

I mope around inthe bedroom, trying on my new outfits and counting the minutes until it’s time to go to Annie’s party. Anything to keep me out of the way of Jacob and his friend. Sebastian is pleasant enough, but I can’t get past how fucked-up the situation is, and it’s tripping me out.

The whole time he’s shaking my hand, smiling, and asking polite questions, he knows I’m a captive and doesn’t care. Soon, he’ll have a sex slave of his very own. I want to shake him and scream, “Don’t you see how wrong this is?”

People who kidnap women should be creepy disgusting monsters, not smartly dressed and friendly. Even Jacob fits the bill of a kidnapper in some ways. He’s got that dangerous, mobster feel to him. Sebastian seems like he should be working in a fancy law firm, having lunchtime cocktails, and screwing half the office girls.

What made these men choose this life? What is so special about this place that it made them separate themselves from everything normal?

I finally settle on an outfit. I wish to all fuck Jacob would let me wear pants, but I broached the topic with the same result as the first time. No chance. Not until I prove I can behave, whatever that means.

My new dress is white slashed with pink to match my hair in funky sections and stops mid-thigh. It’s form-fitting with long sleeves, but I add a tight blue sweater anyway because it’s still cold.

My chunky new boots cap off the look nicely, and Jacob gives an approving nod when he sees it, probably the closest thing I can expect to a compliment. He only seems to compliment me out loud when I’m naked.

The butt plug is driving me crazy. It’s not painful; it’s justthere,and it makes its presence known every time I move. Sitting pushes it in, which reminds me that Jacob didn’t let me come this morning. The slightest shift makes me want to touch myself, but I won’t get away with it while Jacob is here.

Later, though? Maybe. He hasn’t produced the sinister device yet.

Finally, Jacob breaks off from his laptop. “I think that’s as good as it’s going to get.”

He stands, stretching his back, and looks my way. “I’ll get dressed and take you over to Annie’s.”

He heads into the bedroom and shuts the door. Sebastian lets out a low whistle. “Annie’s, is it? I hear those parties get wild.”

He winks at me before wandering into the kitchen, opening Jacob’s fridge, and taking out a beer as if he owns the place. He waves one in my direction. “Want one? It’s weird British shit, but better than not drinking at all.”

He didn’t ask Jacob’s permission. It instantly makes me like him, and some of my wariness disappears. I snatch it out of his hand before he can change his mind or Jacob can appear in that silent way he has and take it off me.

I take a long swig, then regret it. The taste is harsh and bitter, and the texture is thick. Like a nasty alcoholic milkshake.

I screw up my face, and Sebastian laughs. “Warned you. I’ve tried to give him a little class, but as you can see—” He gestures to the bare living room with its weird sporting memorabilia and Western posters. “—I haven’t been successful.”

I smile and brave another sip. It’s better this time, but not by much. “Is this really what he likes to drink?”

“Yep. You’ll have to try and educate him. And for the love of God, decorate this place, will you? I’ve never seen anywhere more in need of a woman’s touch.”

Just for a second, I can see it. Funky art on the walls. Plants and flowers everywhere. Warm lighting to make it feel welcoming. This apartment could be beautiful, with a little bit of effort.

But no. This is how it happens. I’ve heard of women taken from their lives who end up playing happy families with their captors. Becoming so enmeshed with them they don’t run even when the chance arrives. I can’t let that happen to me.

I’m saved answering because Jacob appears. And holy good shit on toast, I can't stop staring.

Big men usually look stupid in tuxedos, like nightclub bouncers trying to fit in with the real guests. Not Jacob. The way the tailored jacket displays his body is criminal. The effect goes beyond dashing, into fucking dangerous. James Bond on steroids.

It hits me that this man, who could have had any woman in the world—a literal Choose Your Own Adventure, “I’ll take that one please,” free choice—has settled for me. Not the girl heoriginally wanted. Not one of the other millions of more suitable candidates. Why? What made him do it?

Another question to add to the list.

I’m still staring. Bowties aren’t usually the manliest accessory, but the way Jacob straightens his, then smiles when he catches me looking has my stomach flipping over like a stupid teenager. I’d have expected him to look uncomfortable in black-tie, but if anything, it’s given him even more confidence.

I can see it now. The leader who was always hiding behind the rough exterior. I can imagine this man making a speech in front of hundreds of people without breaking a sweat.

“Take it I scrub up okay, then?” he says, smirking, and I pull my eyes away.

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