CHAPTER 15
RANSOM
Then.
Lawrence was the first to go solo.
When he turned eighteen, he got a full ride to college. We all thought Moruzzi was gonna change his tune. Sweeten up the deal for him to make him stick around in Chicago and do his biddings.
Not so. Moruzzi had decided, instead, to steal all of Lawrence’s savings and told him if he moved, his life would be over.
Lawrence moved, anyway. Tom and I chipped in to help him. Together, we both had about two grand, which wasn’t going to get Lawrence far, but it would buy him some time to find a job before he started his school year.
The night Lawrence left, Moruzzi drank. A lot. Mrs. Moruzzi wasn’t home. She’d gone to Toronto, to spend some time with her lover. I wondered why people stayed together. Marriage looked like a terrible cage to be trapped in. I vowed to never marry.
Moruzzi decided Tom and I should fight. We had no choice, so we did. Normally, I came out on top. But this time, I saw how down and depressed Tom was about the whole thing, so I let him win.
Later that night, Tom crawled over to my bedroom to stitch me up and share a bottle of whiskey he’d stolen from Moruzzi. We did it a lot—drank his booze. Moruzzi never paid attention. He was too much of a drunkard to keep track of his liquor stash.
“We need to kill him,” Tom said, after a long silence. “Or he’ll kill us. I know he will. When I went to get this whiskey from his office, I saw his desk. He is trying to figure out where Law lives. I think Law’s in danger.”
If Tom and I killed him, we wouldn’t have anywhere to go. Plus, we’d be the immediate suspects, after the police looked into it and found out what we did for him.
“We’ll need to get creative first.” I shook my head. “Buy time before we both turn eighteen.”
For the next two years, we slowed Mr. Moruzzi down. Made him as useless, toothless, and clawless as one could be. We slipped some of the drugs he let us sell into his drinks and food when he wasn’t looking, getting him unknowingly hooked. When he wanted to take a spontaneous trip to the state where Lawrence attended college, we very mistakenly loosened one of the stairs in the house, which resulted in Mr. Moruzzi breaking his leg and canceling the trip. We began messing with his sanity. Tampering with his electricity. Changing light bulbs to create different hues, different atmospheres. Cut his shoelaces shorter. Made his important documents and work things go MIA.
He became more vicious toward us. The women he’d once brought over to reward us for our good behavior were long gone. He hid food. Locked us out when we came home late. We counted down the minutes, then seconds, until it was all over.
Tom got out first. He found a good college, got a scholarship, and bailed. He asked me to come with him. Said he’d take care of me the last year before I turned eighteen. But I didn’t want to slow him down.
That last year with Moruzzi was a blur. He became the meanest when we were alone. But finally, and through hard work at school, I managed to get out, too.
I remember that day. When I turned eighteen.
I didn’t even bother to return home after work.
Tom picked me up. My pocket was full of money I was supposed to give Mr. Moruzzi.
“Ready to start your new life?” Tom asked. He looked good. Like he was having fun. I wanted to have fun, too. Though, I knew my upbringing had corrupted me, made me a dysfunctional person. Tom, Law, and I, we were going to make up for everything we’d lost.
I nodded. We left Chicago behind in a cloud of dust.
Craig’s allergic reaction excuse sent guests into a frenzy. Nobody noticed him limping into a tinted Lexus through the back door, escorted by a group of frat boys with receding hairlines and dad bods. One of them took the driver’s seat and floored it out of the estate. I slipped into one of the bathrooms to regulate my breathing and scream into the shower curtain.
Brat got hurt.
Brat got very hurt.
Brat was more than just a brat. She was a broken-winged swan. One who thought of herself as an ugly duckling.
When I got out, Hallie was standing with her family in the corner of the drawing room, assuming the role of the designated, worried sister with distinction.
“But I didn’t even know he was allergic to wool,” Hera sulked, while Julianne patted her shoulder and Anthony rubbed at Brat’s arm. “I mean, he wears wool all the time. He prefers cashmere, of course—who doesn’t? But…”
Unfortunately, her shit-for-brains fiancé hadn’t come up with a brilliant excuse. He should have gone with something more believable. Like reptiles or pollinated fruit.
“I read somewhere that allergies can develop as you grow older,” Hallie suggested helpfully, standing a bit to the side from the rest of her family.
“You read?” Hera cocked an eyebrow. “Now there’s a shocker.”
“Hera!” Julianne chided. “What’s wrong with you? Just because you’re upset doesn’t mean you can pick on your sister like that.”
“She’s explaining allergies to a doctor.” Hera bared her teeth. “Now get rid of the guests. I guess I wasn’t destined to have a wedding rehearsal, after all.” She pushed past her mother, trekking upstairs to her room, grabbing a bottle of wine from a champagne bucket on her way there.
The wedding was tomorrow, which meant that Craig somehow had to snap back into shape in that time. I’d kept that fact in mind while smashing his skull into broken glass. His face stayed pristine. Ugly as sin, but unmarred.
Julianne squeezed Hallie’s arm. “Sorry about that. Hera is under a lot of stress. Give us one moment, Bunny.”
She charged after her elder daughter, trying to soothe her. Anthony stayed behind, putting a hand over Hallie’s shoulder.
“Why don’t you stay on the ranch tonight?” He ping-ponged his gaze between us. “I know it’s hectic and teeming with staff. But the wedding’s tomorrow. We can go to the venue together from here. Save all of us the trouble. And we really did miss you.”
“I don’t have my gown with me.” Hallie’s hand fluttered over her midsection. She wanted to stay at the scene of the crime like I wanted to shove my dick into a meat grinder. But leaving hastily might spike her parents’ suspicion. Not that I cared if that bastard, Craig, went down in flames. However, I knew Hallie didn’t want people to find out about the assault, and I had to respect that.
“I’ll send someone to fetch it.” Anthony mustered a smile. “Whaddaya say, Sugar Pie? Make your old man happy?”
I stepped between them, noticing that Hallie felt more secure next to my body than with her own father. “We accept. Thank you for your hospitality, President Thorne.”
“I’ll have Annika show you to your rooms.”
“Room,” I corrected him coolly. Both he and Hallie eyed me curiously.
“Security here is through the roof.” Anthony frowned.
“And I would really rather spend the night alone,” Hallie added bitingly.
With forced patience, I said, “I don’t doubt your security measures, sir. All the same, I’m the one in charge of Miss Thorne’s protection. It goes without saying I’ll be sleeping on the floor, if at all, while on duty.”
I wasn’t going to share a bed with the woman, especially after finding out just how royally I’d fucked things up by messing with her. Up until today, I had still assumed that Hallie Thorne was a reckless, overtly sexual woman who took her pleasures where she could find them. I didn’t for one moment suspect what we’d done seven nights ago was anything more than an expression of curiosity.
Anthony stroked his chin, nodding. “Your jurisdiction, your rules. Annika will show you to your room in a bit. You all right there, Sugar Pie?” He turned to his daughter. “You look a li’l pale.”
Hallie smiled sunnily. “When am I not, Pops?”
As soon as he was out of earshot, Hallie turned around, slamming her fist into my arm.
“How could you?” she whispered.
You’re about to have a massive meltdown tonight after being attacked, and“I want to keep an eye on you.”
“I can handle myself.” She clenched her teeth.
I didn’t doubt that, but I didn’t want her to wander this vast, strange house all by herself, either. Couldn’t chance Craig returning to seek his revenge. And some screwed-up part of me really didn’t want that vicious snake, Hera, to get any alone time with her.
“As I said before, I’ll take the floor.”
“A place fitting for a dog.”
“Exactly.”
Annika materialized out of nowhere, appearing in the hallway in her pressed uniform. She gave us a bow. “Miss Thorne, your parents are beyond happy you’re here. Will you be attending dinner?”
“You couldn’t pay me,” Hallie grunted.
“Excuse me?”
“No.” Hallie cleared her throat. “I’m not hungry, I’m afraid.”
“Oh. Okay.”
Annika showed us to a fairly large room on the second floor. The house was mostly empty by now. All the guests had trickled out in the last hour or so, after realizing the unappeasable Hera Thorne was locked in her room, roaring at her mother.
The room was spacious and impeccably decorated. A king-sized bed with pressed Victorian linen, a few landscape paintings with heavy golden frames, two dressers laden with fresh flower vases, and a walk-in closet. The floor was carpeted—thank fuck—and there was already a stack of pillows and blankets on an antique, regency couch in the corner of the room. Since the couch stretched to about the length of my thigh, it didn’t hold much promise.
“It’s not too late to ask for your own room,” Hallie reminded me, tucking her hands under her ass while sitting on the bed, legs dangling mid-air.
“And miss all this fun?” I looked around, finding a good spot on the floor by the windows.
“Your funeral.”
“Wouldn’t you wish.”
“I would, actually.”
A terse smile touched my lips. “That would’ve held more weight if you didn’t cling to me every time your father was around. You trust me more than you do him.”
She blew a raspberry at me childishly. “You’re deranged.”
Stomping to the bathroom, she returned half an hour later in an oversized gray Harvard sweatshirt, boxers, and no makeup.
I was taken aback by the sheer beauty of fresh-faced Hallie. She was stunning.
I stood by the window, watching security personnel pack their shit and retreat back into the night.
“They brought our toothbrushes and clothes from the hotel.” Hallie pressed a towel to her wet hair. I could see her through the window’s reflection. “It’s in the grand bathroom, two doors down.”
I glanced at my watch. It was ten o’clock at night.
“Will you be okay?” I asked.
“Oh, no.” She rolled her eyes. “I’ll collapse into a puddle of emotion and tears as soon as you walk away.”
“Stay here,” I said.
“Famous last words.” She slid under the covers, which were tightly tucked under the mattress. “Last time you asked me to do that I was assaulted.”
“Good point.” I reached over to release the covers from the mattress for her. “New rule: stay here unless you feel that you’re in danger, in which case come and get me.”
“Better.” She turned her back to me, curling into a fetal position, signaling the conversation was over.
“Hallie…” I halted, wanting to say something but knowing whatever I said was going to sound stupid.
“Please go away.”
Sighing, I padded to the bathroom, grabbed a shower, shaved, and brushed my teeth. I slipped into a pair of sweatpants and a wifebeater. When I got back to the room, the lights were off. Hallie’s figure rose and dipped to the rhythm of her breaths.
Rearranging the pillows on the floor, I turned my back to her, trying to get comfortable. She’d crashed. I, however, had trouble sleeping, knowing her sister’s fiancé was free to roam the streets.
He wouldn’t touch Hallie again, I was certain of that, but that didn’t mean there wouldn’t be other victims. I wanted nothing more than to throw the bastard in jail. Problem was, it wasn’t in my job description, and was highly counterproductive to my main goal, which was to get the hell out of here once time was up and stay on Anthony Thorne’s good side.
“Do you think I’m damaged goods?” Her voice pierced through the air.
Not so asleep, after all.
“I don’t think of you as a product.”
“You know what I mean.” She let out a soft yawn. “Do you think I’m…broken?”
“Anyone with half a life story is broken.”
“You keep dodging the question.”
“No, you keep missing the point,” I said calmly, shifting to turn around and look at her from across the room. Her eyes sparkled in the dark. I wasn’t sure if she was crying, tired, or both.
“You have issues, yes. I don’t know many people who don’t. Your working assumption is that everyone else has their shit together. That’s inaccurate at best and self-destructive at worst.”
“I don’t know many women who got themselves into the same situation I landed myself in with Craig.” She picked at a fray edge of her duvet. A tear slipped down her cheek.
“You don’t know many women, period,” I whispered.
“What do you mean?” She sniffed.
“All your friendships are fake. You said so yourself. You surround yourself with people who hide their pain in the same way you do. You buy their act—and they buy yours.”
She said nothing.
“But that’s beside the point. You didn’t insert yourself into any situation. It was all Craig. You were fourteen. Young, impressionable, and sheltered. He should be in jail right now.”
“He can’t go to jail.”
I didn’t reply. Tom would hang me by the balls if I overstepped and fucked up this post. And for good reason. I’d react the same. But the situation wasn’t so simple anymore.
“Besides, if you hated rape so much—” she started.
“Stop,” I cut her off. “Not the same. Not an iota of similarity. My fantasies and kinks have nothing to do with reality.”
“Why do you have them, then?”
I swallowed. “Because, growing up, the way I was introduced to sex was kind of a task. That guy I told you about, Moruzzi? He made me and the other kids do bad stuff for him. And as payoff for our jobs, he’d hire prostitutes for us. The sex wasn’t optional. It was mandatory. A rite of passage. For a long time, I associated sex with something I was obligated to do.”
“So this is your way of taking back your sexuality.” She let out a breath.
“Yes.” It was the first time I admitted this to anyone.
“I get it. Then why do I get turned on by all this?”
I gave it some thought. “Maybe because you want to remind yourself of the important part.”
“Which is?”
“That you survived.”
Silence lingered before she spoke again.
“You looked like you cared about me today.” She shifted under her blanket.
“Just did my job.” I cleared my throat. It felt tight.
“It was your job to protect me, not to almost kill him.”
“Some jobs have perks.”
Another silence.
“Ransom?”
“What?”
She hesitated. I held my breath. I really shouldn’t. I’d avoided her for seven days. I had no business waiting for more of her words.
“Can you…”
No.
“Maybe…”
Fuck, no.
“…hold me?”
The worst part was that I couldn’t actually say no. I wanted to. I could not deny her anything right now.
I felt my body rising up and rounding the bed. I slipped behind Hallie, staying on the far end of the mattress. She didn’t turn around. I wrapped my arms around her shoulders, leaving room for Jesus between us, and a few other biblical folks if they wanted to squeeze in.
She was shaking like a leaf. I wanted to butcher Craig until nothing was left of him but dust and those fake-ass veneered teeth.
Slowly, in hopes of calming her down without awakening my cock—which had no qualms about Hallie’s distress—I began stroking her hair. It was soft and long. It smelled of coconut and flowers. Since I’d never before cuddled—I doubted I’d even said the word out loud—I went off what I saw people do in movies.
Her shakes slowly subsided.
“I want to kill him,” I heard her whisper.
“I can do it for you.” I was only half-joking.
“Have you ever killed someone?”
I stilled, my hand halting over the nape of her neck.
“Never mind.” She burrowed deeper into me, sighing. “I don’t want to know, because it’s not going to matter. You’re still the only one who treats me half-decently. How sad is that?”
“Very,” I admitted, swallowing hard. My cock was straining against my sweatpants, hyperaware of the fact the only barrier standing between it and Hallie’s ass was a flimsy pair of worn-out boxers.
“Keep holding me.”
“Stop moving, then,” I barked.
“Why?” Her voice dropped an octave, becoming sultry.
“Because my cock is as hard as your day has been and I would very much like for my balls not to fall off.”
She wiggled that luscious butt in response. My erect cock was nestled between her ass cheeks through our clothes. I looked down under the duvet. It was the hottest shit I’d ever seen.
“Hallie.” I closed my eyes, shuffling back. Half my body was hanging off of the damn mattress. I was about to fall off the bed. Still, I held her.
“Hmm?” She chased my crotch, moving her ass up and down, grinding against my cock, which needed absolutely no further encouragement to release a pearl of pre-cum which stuck to my sweatpants. My shaft swung back and forth, tapping her ass. She purred. She knew exactly what she was doing.
“Stop,” I groaned, my balls tightening.
“See, I know I should.” She laced one of her legs through mine, continuing to grind against me. “But you’re the only man who’s ever made me feel…desire.”
“See, saying that to a Dom means whatever’s happening here should end immediately, since I’m the adult in the room right now.”
The words sounded right and felt right. I’d practiced the lifestyle long enough to know boundaries—mine and my partners’—and yet I couldn’t fucking deny her.
She snaked a hand between us, gripping my cock through my sweatpants. “I want you, Ransom.”
“I don’t want to ruin you,” I croaked. And I generally ruined everything I touched. Unless it was work-related.
“Ruin me anyway.” Her hand slipped into my sweatpants, her thumb twirling the drop of cum on the crown of my cock, rubbing it against the sensitive part. “There’s not much left to destroy as it is.”
The remainder of my self-control shredded into confetti. I flipped her around so we were face-to-face. We stared at each other in the dark. I wanted to kill myself for what I was about to do.
“Kiss me,” she grumbled.
Helpless, and completely fucked, I shoved my fingers into her hair, pulling her forward as my mouth crushed down on hers.
Our teeth clashed. I growled, drawing away. This was my first real kiss, at age twenty-nine, and as far as first kisses went, it was probably a lackluster one for her. Then I remembered she probably hadn’t really kissed anyone, either. We were both new at this.
Hallie wouldn’t let go. She tugged me closer, clasping her legs around my waist, like a human octopus, not letting me go.
She shook her head, opening her mouth against mine, the tip of her tongue searching inside, exploring, sweeping against my teeth and my tongue and the roof of my mouth.
“We aren’t doing this right,” I grunted. I was no expert, but I knew. She froze inside my arms. Her mouth disconnected from mine, and she pulled away, searching my eyes.
“Ransom, have you ever been—”
“No.”
“Okay, I won’t ask.”
This was painful. This was why I kept my sexual liaison on the kinky side. It was so much easier to explain why there wouldn’t be kissing and cuddling.
She kissed me again, slowly now. Touching her lips to the side of my mouth. Her tongue traced my lips. Her arms wrapped around my neck. I opened my mouth. She tasted of toothpaste and something sweet and Hallie. Of her jokes and quirks and idealistic, environmental agenda.
We did that for a while. I didn’t dare touch her clothes, remove anything. But I was relieved when she scooted back a little, grabbed the hem of her sweatshirt, and flung it to the floor. I kicked the blanket off of us, allowing myself to admire her tits. Her tattoos. All of her.
Take a good look and have your fill, because you’re about to fuck the client and with it, your entire business plan.
My thumb traced her ink. The lotus along her midriff, the mermaid tail on her hipbone…
“Do you want to kiss me somewhere else?” Her voice sounded timid—almost childish—in my ears again. And if I wasn’t too far gone, this might cause me to pull away and get my shit together.
I looked up at her, nodding. “I want to kiss you everywhere.”
“Please do.”
I started with her neck. I licked the outline of her breasts, biting softly the part where the curve met her ribcage. It was a lovely torture. My skin felt different. More sensitive. Perhaps I was allergic to making out. Unlikely, but not out of character.
Clasping one of her nipples between my teeth, I angled my cock between her legs, finding her sleek and ready for me. I knew, as my tip nestled between her hot, wet folds, that I was making a mistake.
I knew, and still, I pressed home.
She gasped, pushing her hot mouth into my neck.
“This feels so…” she stuttered.
Please say good and not horrible, because my dick will fall off if I have to stop now.
“Yes?” I urged, moving inside her slowly, so slow it hurt. Not only because I wanted to make it good for her, but because I was pretty sure I was about to come.
“Insane!” She dropped her head to the pillow, nails digging into my waist, drawing me closer.
I swallowed her moans with demanding, deep kisses, driving into her, spiraling with each thrust, feeling her clenching around me. I wanted her to come so badly I disgusted myself. This new version of me, the one that gave a shit, was a danger to my identity.
“Right there.” Her mouth dropped into an O-shape, her eyes finding mine in the dark. I was making eye contact now while fucking. This was just great. What came next? Spooning.
You already spooned her, idiot. Pre-sex.
Her hips rolled, meeting each of my thrusts. She was good at this, I realized. A natural. One day, she was going to find someone else, hopefully someone good, who’d get to enjoy that on a daily basis.
That someone wasn’t gonna be me.
Grabbing her ass, I tugged her down to the edge of the bed, sinking my feet to the floor. I couldn’t stand the tenderness. The romance of it all.
Spreading her wide, I started pushing into her jerkily, the way I would if she were another faceless, highly curated Tinder hookup.
Tell me to stop. Tell me it’s not good for you. Tell me I’m a bastard.
“Shit! Oh! This is so good,” she cried out instead, her tits bouncing to the rhythm of my thrusts.
This was when it hit me. I wasn’t wearing a condom, for the first time since I’d started having sex.
“I gotta pull out,” I groaned. “We’re bareback. Are you coming?”
“Gimme a few.”
I drove into her harshly. “Hurry up.”
As if on cue, she fell apart beneath me, her muscles squeezing my cock greedily. Her breathing became shaky. A drop of sweat rolled from my forehead, exploding inside her navel.
I pulled out, strings of my white cum ribboning over her tatted body.
This never happened. I never went off-script. Never screwed a client. Only it did happen. Was happening. Right now.
Shoving my legs into my pants, I staggered out of her room.
Now wasn’t the time to start catching feelings.