Page 17 of Betrayal (Corrupt Empire 1)

It was a man who always visited us late at night. I’d never seen his face.

“But he is. You know his father wouldn’t be happy.”

“Don’t you bring him into this.”

“Please, I will do as you wish.”

“Fine. Sweetheart, arrange a nanny for her son.”

“Of course, darling,” came the voice of the woman who always arrived with him.

“Thank you, sir. Thank you.”

“Don’t fucking thank me. I’m not doing this for you. Get on your knees.”

There was no more talking. Only the sounds of grunting and moaning rang in my ears. I didn’t understand what was happening, only that the man did bad things to her.

Later, when the front door slammed, she came into my bedroom. She climbed into bed beside me and hugged me to her chest.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I’m so sorry.”

“It’s okay, Mummy. I love you.”

“I love you too, sweetie. Go back to sleep now.”

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My eyes flew open. I felt hot. A dream. Just another fucking dream. I wasn’t stupid enough to think they’d ever stop.

I shifted, grabbing my phone from the bedside table. It was four in the morning. At least I’d managed five hours. No way in hell was I getting back to sleep after that shit.

I hauled myself out of bed and pulled on a t-shirt before picking up a set of keys. My footsteps were quiet across the carpet. Standing outside the reinforced steel door, I wasn’t sure whether to check on her or not. I hoped she’d be asleep.

When I unbolted it and turned the locks, the door swung back. She was still lying in the exact same place I’d left her in, curled up on her side with her eyes closed

I ventured in. She didn’t stir, but it couldn’t have been comfortable for her lying like that with her hands cuffed behind her back. I walked around and squatted down. I unlocked the cuffs and slipped them into my pocket.

A whimper cut through the silence. I brushed her hair back from her face. Her cheeks were wet. A very small part of me felt responsible for her misery.

Avery didn’t know why her parents needed to die. To her, I was just the guy who’d taken away her loved ones. Now she didn’t have anyone else but me.

I didn’t think. I just did. Picking her up, I walked backwards until I was up against the wall. I sat down with her in my lap and cradled her to my chest.

“Shhh,” I whispered, stroking her hair when she whimpered again.

Her fingers curled around my t-shirt, gripping it with her fist. She was so fucking small in my arms. I knew she was about twenty years old. She certainly looked and felt all woman, yet she was still so small compared to me.

And here I was being a fucking idiot. I’d never offered anyone comfort before or held someone because they needed a hug. That just wasn’t me.

It was like some part of me knew what Avery needed right now was someone to take care of her. That if I wanted to make her mine, I had to make her need me. No matter my sick attraction to the girl, I still had to carry out my plan. I needed her for that.

Avery shifted in my grasp. I looked down at her. Her eyes were open. For a moment, we just stared at each other. Tears spilt down her cheeks unheeded. Then Avery did something I didn’t expect. She let go of my t-shirt, placed her hand right above my heart, buried her face in my chest and sobbed. I sat there, stroking her hair. I let her cry on me without saying a word.

Her skin was icy to the touch. Given I’d left her on the concrete floor in nothing but her underwear, it wasn’t a surprise. She needed to get warm again.

I pulled out the key from my pocket and unlocked the manacle around her ankle. I stood with her in my arms. She didn’t raise her head when I carried her out into the hall and along to the bathroom. I set her down on the edge of the bath before putting the plug in and turning on the taps.

Only then did she look at me. Her eyes roamed across my face and down to my arms. She bit her lip. It was the first time she’d seen me in anything but a shirt. I knew she was staring at the intricate designs snaking up from my wrists. It had taken years to have my entire torso and arms marked in ink, but it was a badge of honour for me. They told the story of my life. Except no one would be able to decipher their meaning without context.

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