Page 32 of Bound By Mistake
But as I strap my seat belt on, a tiny sliver of hope blooms inside me.
The business card is gone.
Chapter
Twenty
SIERRA
The bath feels like heaven to my bruises, welts, and aching muscles. I lay, submerged up to my chin in fragrant bubbles, with only the hand holding my very large glass of wine peeking out of the water.
In the comfort and security of my own home, I lean my head back against the bath pillow and allow myself to close my eyes.
Despite what I told the men, I actually had another few days left on my wilderness camping retreat, but there was no way I could stay after all that had happened. Once they’d dropped me off, fear had ripped through me, and I found I was more scared by the people who had chased me through those woods, than I had been of Gray, Erik and Cain. So, I’d grabbed my few belongings, which were miraculously still there, abandoned the brand-new tent, and driven home on autopilot in a complete daze. Then slept for a solid twelve hours straight.
I’m still feeling guilty about the tent, but I was in no fit state to even attempt taking it down. I make a mental note to call the booking agent and tell them… something. Make some excuse, but I’m sure someone can make use of it.
I’m still trying to process everything.
At least I have a couple more days before I have to go back to work, and I’m thankful for that. I’m going to need them. I’m wrecked, both physically and mentally, and right now, I don’t want anyone asking questions. I honestly don’t know how I’d answer or what I’d say if anyone were to ask how I enjoyed my break. Or worse, why I look like a walking advert for some kind of physical abuse. There are still chafe marks on my wrists and ankles, lash lines all across the backs of my legs, and bruises and bites on my neck and arms. And that’s just the obviously visible stuff. I took a photo over my shoulder in the mirror since I can’t see my back properly, and I look like I’ve been beaten black and blue.
I guess I have… although it’s not quite computing that way in my head. I figure that’s probably a blessing, all things considered.
After staying in the water until it starts to cool, I reluctantly drag myself out, wrap myself in a long fluffy robe, and pour myself another glass of wine. On the kitchen counter, my eyes drop to the business card I took from Gray’s vehicle, and I pick it up and twirl it in my fingers.
I’ve done my homework already, googling the company on my laptop and checking it out. Finding everything I possibly can about the three men who started it ten years ago before it took off to become a multi-billion corporation.
Gray Carter, Cain Smith, and Erik Evans.
I know their full names now. I know where to find them. If I wanted, I could file a police report…
Except I don’t want to. And yeah, I know there are people who might think I’ve lost my mind by not doing so. People who would insist it’s a classic sign of abuse not to make that complaint.
But I also know they weren’t being deliberately vindictive. No matter how it seemed at the time, they weren’t really kidnapping me and holding me captive.
Well, not intentionally, anyway. I’d long since worked out it was a case of mistaken identity.
And honestly, I didn’t hate it. In fact, I’d kinda loved it once I’d gotten over myself. There was something raw and uninhibited about everything that had transpired, and I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t indulged in my own fantasies over the years.
I’d checked that out too.
Primal Fantasies.
I remember one of the guys mentioning the name, so I looked at their website, and quite frankly their prices are eye-watering. Ironically, that’s what made me pause when I first considered getting in touch with the guys.
Well, that and the fact I haven’t replaced my phone yet.
They’d paid alotof money and then hadn’t exactly gotten what they paid for. Had they been disappointed?
It wasn’t like they’d said much before they dropped me off. But from what I can gather reading through the website, that’s kind of expected. There are some very strict rules, backed up with stringent penalties and the threat of legal action if clients didn’t adhere to the directives designed to keep all parties safe.
Oh, the irony in that!
But maybe they hadn’t wanted to, either. The whole ‘going home’ thing had equated to little more than an embarrassing morning after walk of shame scenario.
Well, it was for me, anyway, and they hadn’t really done anything to make me feel better.
But the business card… I was pretty certain Cain left it there for me deliberately.
