Page 102 of Release Me
‘You little bitch.’ His palm connects with my cheek, the sound piercing the air as the sting slides over my skin. I fall back down. This time he drops down on top of me, pinning my hands to the couch with his. His arousal presses against me, and despair drives through me like a sledgehammer. ‘Still, I suppose this is more interesting than you just lying there and taking it. This is the most foreplay we’ve had in ages.’ He laughs then, low and cruel. ‘Tell me, darling, are you wearing stockings under this dress, or will I have to tear the tights from your body?’
I struggle beneath his weight, kicking his shins as he pushes me flat on my back, mounting me. ‘You sick fuck,’ I scream. ‘You’ll never get away with this. My driver is downstairs.’
‘And so is mine,’ he says conversationally. ‘The last time I spoke to him, he was about to put a brick through a certain Porsche 911 and drag the driver out for a little chat.’
‘Patrick wouldn’t do that.’ I spit in his face, and he stares at me like he’s enjoying this.
‘Which is why I fired him and found someone who would.’ He lowers his cheek to my chest and wipes my spit over my breasts. ‘Like I said, this is the most foreplay we’vehad in ages.’ He leans into my neck, inhaling my scent. ‘Oh, I’ve missed you, Rebekka.’
‘I haven't missed you.’ I buck and claw and fight against him, but it’s no good he’s too strong. And now I know Carter’s not coming, the tiny flicker of hope harbouring inside is extinguished.
‘Ah, don’t be like that, darling.’ His cold eyes bore into mine. The man has lost it. He’s crazy. Delusional. He’ll never get away with this.
‘Wave for the camera.’ He glances over his shoulder with an evil laugh. ‘Say hi to Rian.’ He buries his mouth in my neck. ‘You didn’t think I’d let you walk away from me, did you? You’re mine, Rebekka. You always will be mine. ’Til death do us part. And if you ever try to leave me again, that death will come quicker than you can ever imagine.’
He uses his right elbow to pin down my left hand on the couch above my head, holding down my right hand with the same arm.
His left hand reaches for my breast, palming roughly down towards my waist, then my hips, thighs, until he finds the hem of my dress.
‘You fucking bastard,’ I scream, writhing to get away from his grip.
Then an almighty crash tears through the corridor.
The front door doesn’t open—it explodes.
A deafening bang ricochets off the marble.
Anthony’s head jerks up.
There’s more crashing—soles hammering on the polished marble, approaching fast and lethal. Three sets. Heavy. Hard. Getting closer.
My heart lodges in my throat. I twist beneath Anthony, craning to see.
And then I do.
Rian.
Flanked by Killian and James.
All three of them blow in like an oncoming storm, eyes black with murder.
The sight of Rian’s face—pure, unfiltered fury—hits me harder than any blow Anthony dealt.
He’s here.
And for the first time since stepping into this apartment, I know I’m going to be okay. I can’t say the same for Anthony though.
Chapter Forty-Six
RIAN
Rage blinds me. I roar, the sound leaving my lips before I even register it—pure primal, animalistic. If he’s hurt her. Touched her. I’m on them in a split second, ripping Anthony off her, throwing him to the marble floor.
‘You fucking bastard.’ His body flies backwards, crashing into the marble with a grunt.
I don’t hesitate. I’m on him in the next breath. My fists slam into his face, over and over, the red haze coursing through my blood. ‘I’ll fucking kill you.’
His blood sprays, his nose crunches beneath my knuckles.
