Any explanation dies at the back of my throat. All of my anger dissipates. She’s broken because of me. This happened because of me. I fucking hate myself.

“I’ll protect you,” I tell her. I only hesitate for a moment before taking the seat next to her. My weight causes her small body to lean into mine, and I’m surprised when she doesn’t resist. She lets me hold her for a moment as her cries get softer and she wipes the tears from beneath her eyes. I’ve craved this warmth since she found out the truth. “I promise.”

I lean forward and kiss her hair, taking in her sweet scent but it makes her withdraw. She doesn’t look at me, and the moment she has her composure back she pulls away from me.

“Is it really that bad to stay with me?”

Her body stiffens at the question, and she doesn’t answer.

“You have no other options but to stay where I tell you and do what I say. You need to convince everyone in this city that you’re mine, that everything between us is better than it’s ever been.”

“I just want to go home.” She’ll never know how much that desire damages me in the worst way. How empty and hollow her confession leaves me. “I won’t tell anyone,” she adds, peeking up through her thick lashes.

“You don’t have a choice,” I tell her as I cup her cheek in my hand. I run the rough pad of my thumb along her lush lips, and they beg me to kiss her. Her pale skin is flushed a beautiful shade of pink and everything in me wants to hold her close. I want to take her pain away; I want to remind her who she belongs to.

“You’re mine, Jules. There’s no changing that.”

Jules

Pressed against a hard wall,

No choices, no way out.

Without the air to breathe,

And only left with doubt.

There’s no way to move forward,

No will to make amends.

Nothing but what he gives me,

Trapped and at dead ends.

I’m desperate for my mother, of all things. Desperate to call her, to confess what’s happened, to plead with her to protect me. As if something so simple could save me.

I pick at the comforter on the bed and wish I had my computer or my phone. Or any way at all to contact someone.

Not a single soul has come up Mason’s driveway since he brought me back here. There are no neighbors close enough to just drop by, not that Mason’s the neighborly type. Even the mailbox is all the way at the end of the long driveway. I’m trapped in this house that’s practically a gilded cage without a damn thing to do other than write down every forsaken emotion and thought that comes to me. Time is moving slowly; the past three days have felt like a year, and all I can do is be consumed by the thoughts of how I got here. How did this become my life?

The moment I look out a window or walk toward a door, Mason’s there. Watching me, waiting to see what I’ll do. He went from being my lover and my hope, to a prison warden. Every time he enters the room, I can feel him.

Yet he’s pretending he’s not monitoring me, that he trusts I’ll behave because I’m afraid. Part of that’s true, but mostly I’m waiting, simply biding my time. I’ll be quiet and listen until I have a chance to leave him. He can’t keep me here forever.

The bathroom door opens with a soft creak, stealing me away from my thoughts as Mason steps into the bedroom from the en suite. He’s bare-chested, his tanned skin on display as he strides toward the dresser with only a towel wrapped around his waist. His demeanor is casual, as if nothing happened. As if I can live with the fact that he’s a murderer, and my life is in danger because of him and his father. If I’d known he was tied to anything at all like this, I’d never have gone home with him that first night. I’d never have flirted, I’d never have touched him, let alone fallen in love with him.

I have to bite my cheek to keep from screaming, to keep from doing something stupid as Mason turns his back to me, letting the towel drop as he selects a pair of boxers from the top drawer of his dresser. Between the multiple heartaches and chaos, loss is there. Loss of someone I thought I loved who didn’t exist. Loss of the independence I was so sure I had.

“I bought you a dress for Saturday,” he informs me matter-of-factly as he unzips a garment bag with his back to me.

My eyes flicker to the beautiful evening gown hanging on the back of the closet door. Its jewels sparkle as the light hits it; they’re sparser on top, just a faint pattern that forms the outline of an hourglass, overlaying the darker gray on the sides and absent on the light gray inlay. From the hips down, the gown is completely covered in the dazzling Swarovski crystals.

It’s stunning. I’m sure it would impress everyone at the charity event. I don’t remember which one this is; I only know that Mason wants to attend to discuss business with a number of investors and it’s an annual charity gala I’ve gone to without fail for years.

For a moment, I can only watch Mason continue with the business of getting dressed, wondering how he could even consider the two of us attending an event together. “I don’t see how I could possibly go.” I can’t imagine standing in a room smiling and playing nice when I feel like this. When I’m trapped and cornered. When I’m literally scared for my life.

Mason’s steel gray eyes pierce through me as if he heard every one of my thoughts when I look at his reflection in the cheval mirror.

“You’ve had a couple of nights to think about things. You’ll have another handful of days to come around,” he says confidently and breaks my gaze to shut a drawer, holding a pair of socks in his right hand.

“Where are you going?” I ask him, feeling a touch of hope rise in my chest at the prospect of him leaving. I just want to go home. The thought plays in my head on a loop like a broken record.

His lips press into a thin line and he turns slowly to face me, leaning back against the dresser. “Do you think it would be wise?” he asks. He hasn’t moved but somehow he seems much closer than he was a moment ago.

I feel the blood drain from my face. “What do you mean?”

“Jules, my sweetheart,” he says as he sets the clothes on top of the dresser and strides toward me. The bed dips as he sits on the edge, my heart racing from the proximity even though he doesn’t touch me. “I’m still the man I was,” he says calmly; his voice is soft and it breaks something inside of me. The smile he gives me is sad and doesn’t reach his eyes. Leaning forward, he adds, “I can practically hear what you’re thinking.”

Thud, my heart pauses, caught in a trap that snaps shut around it. I swallow and focus on calming down to pry it free from the steel bars, attempting to pretend I don’t know what he’s talking about.

My head shakes to deny the truth but he reaches out, grabbing me by the nape of the neck and my hip, holding me in place and forcing me to look at him. It’s possessive, it’s dominating and it steals my breath. He hasn’t been this close to me in days. His lips are so very close to mine. Just like my heart, I’m trapped.

“I’m not going to lose you, Jules.” He speaks with an intensity that makes the world blur around him.