Bound by Lies: Bound #1 (Adult Romantic Suspence) (19 page)

Five years ago

It’s eight weeks after Jacob gives me my tattoo. It’s
healed. But I can feel it; when I walk, when I sit, when he grabs my ass to
pull me onto him. It burns my skin. A brand. I have been branded. Like cattle.

When I am with Jacob I am horrified at how my body still
reacts to his, how he can make me come apart with his fingers and how much I
still want him to kiss me and tell me that I’m beautiful. There is a small sick
part of me that likes the fact that I have become his.

Me.

His.

Out of all the women in the world, he picked me. And that
makes me feel loved. Special. He loves me so much that he goes insane with
jealousy. He needs this tattoo on me to warn off all other men.

But inside I know being with him is wrong.

I feel unbalanced, like my gravity has shifted to the top of
my head making me easily swayed. So side to side I totter. I love him. I hate
him. I need him. I need out.

Since the Winston incident, his jealousy is like the third
person in our relationship. She drapes her long limbs across Jacob and I can
feel them both staring at me when they think I’m not watching. She follows us,
sometimes quietly like a shadow, then other times she can’t stop whispering in
his ear. And I am coated in suspicion. Like a snow that continues to fall over
me, it gets thicker and it doesn’t matter how hard I try, I can’t shake it all
off and I can’t keep it from falling from the sky.

Where have I been? Who spoke to me? Who looked at me?

The sex becomes more violent.

I yank against my wrists which are held together in
chains, bleeding from the rough cold iron. The blackout curtains shut out the
world, the only light coming from the dimmed wall lamps of Jacob’s bedroom. My
face presses into the black sheets that smell like sweat and sex. My knees are
bent, ass in the air, pussy exposed for him. My hips are bruised from Jacob’s
fingers, my nipples bleeding from where his teeth have torn my flesh. My ass
and thighs are raw and slippery from cum.

At the moment Jacob is fucking me with the handle of the
crop. At least he has stopped hitting me with it.

“Jacob, please,” I beg. “I can’t come anymore.” I know he
wants me to.

His thrusting stops. The crop is yanked from me. I flinch
as it slaps against the wall when he throws it. He wipes his forehead with the
back of his arm. I can feel the anger rolling off him. I have hurt his ego, I
know it. I can’t come and it’s my fault. I want so badly to please him. But I
can’t.

“Get up. Get the fuck up.”

I can barely move; my body aches and the chains grow
heavier which each movement. But I push myself up and stand next to the bed.
Thank God it’s over. Jacob stands before me.

“On your knees.”

My heart sinks. I feel one of his hands pushing me down.
My knees hit the floor. I can barely see Jacob through my matted hair as he stands
over me.

“Jacob, please,” I croak. My mouth is dry. I need water.
My stomach is tight from not having eaten. “I can’t take anymore.”

“No.” I can hear the scowl in his voice. I am weak. I
have failed the man who just loves me so much. I try not to whimper as he wraps
his fingers through my hair and pushes his cock past my lips. “I will tell you
when you’ve had enough.”

Strangely, these are not the things to cause me to want to
leave. It’s the weight of this suspicion that crushes me so that I can’t
breathe. It’s the continuing exhaustion from being on my guard at all times. It’s
the gradual wearing down of all my edges.

I start to obsess about how I can escape. I dream about
leaving town, about catching my first plane out of this country to… anywhere.
Anywhere but here. Because this is the Tyrells’ country. And anywhere I go
here, I will still be in his territory.

At the university library I do an internet search on how to
apply for a passport. I don’t dare do it on my laptop. The laptop he gave me.
Just in case Jacob finds it in my browsing history. Or has some sort of key
tracking device installed. I almost weep when I realize that I would have to
apply in person because it would be my first passport. I know that Jacob is
keeping track of me and I would never get away with applying for a passport
without him knowing.

I can’t even ask for help. I damn anyone I involve. Look at
what I did to Winston. I am alone.

I withdraw into my studies. I sit by myself in lectures to
let Winston keep our friends. I know he won’t go near me anymore. And he
doesn’t deserve to be the one who sits by himself. So I go, willingly. It’s the
least I can do.

Jacob makes me spend every night at his apartment now. I
only go to my dorm between classes or to pick up more clothes.

One night, I wake up in the middle of the night needing
water and the bathroom. Jacob isn’t in bed next to me. When I run my hand out I
can feel the sheets have gone cold.

It’s not unusual for Jacob to wake up and leave in the
middle of the night, so I think nothing of it. I grab a dressing gown and wrap
my naked self up. Jacob doesn’t let me sleep with clothes on. Even when we
don’t have sex, which is becoming more and more frequent. Like earlier tonight.
Earlier tonight he was too distracted and I crawled into bed without him,
feeling thankful and rejected at the same time.

I use the ensuite. Then I patter through the living area
towards the kitchen in search of water. The moonlight filtering through the
open curtains gives me enough light that I don’t need to turn any on. A noise
causes me to glance at the door on the other side of the living area. I know
that the rooms beyond the living area are Jacob’s private offices and the guest
rooms. Sometimes he lets me study in one of the guest rooms. But not the
offices.

Suddenly I’m more curious than thirsty. I shouldn’t, but
something inside me pushes me forward. A small piece of defiance. I slip
silently towards the door that leads from the living area. As I creep closer I
recognize the muffled sound of yelling. I get closer. I hear Jacob’s voice, and
he’s angry. Angry is a sound forever etched into my skull. I would recognize it
in my sleep.

Who is he yelling at? Why is he angry?

The gap under the door is dark and the voice is muffled so I
know that Jacob isn’t in the smaller formal living area directly beyond this
door. From this smaller living room are two doors. One leads to an ensuite. The
other leads to his office which is connected to the ensuite.

I test the door handle to the formal living area and find it
unlocked. A thrill of fear and adrenaline runs through me. I slip inside but
keep the door ajar just in case.

In the formal living room, the curtains are partially drawn,
so there’s less light. My skin prickles as I stand in the dark, waiting for my
eyes to adjust to the dimness. The darkness recedes into lumpy shadows. I can
see a line of light from under the far right door. Jacob’s office. The voices
are definitely coming from there.

I should turn back now. It really is no business of mine who
Jacob is yelling at and why he is angry. But then I hear the slap of flesh and
the soft cry of another person. A woman. The hairs rise across my skin. Jacob’s
hurting her. Or he’s fucking her.

My stomach clenches. I feel a sick flash of jealousy. Jacob
only hits me because he loves me. Does he love this other woman, too? Is she
why he was so disinterested in me earlier tonight?

I need to see what is going on.

I creep to the door that leads to the ensuite, praying it isn’t
locked. It isn’t. I cautiously open the door to the ensuite and peer in. I
pause and my breath catches. The sliding door, the one that leads to Jacob’s
office is slightly open. I can see the line of light shining from around the door.
My mouth goes dry and suddenly I feel naked. This dressing gown isn’t enough
clothing.

I can hear Jacob’s voice through the gap as I step into the
ensuite. “…me to the fuckin’ pigs.”

What the hell is he talking about? I take another step.

“You leave me no choice, Adele. It’s over.”

Adele? My heart clenches. Who is Adele? And what is she to
Jacob? What’s over?

“I’m−” But I don’t hear any more. Jacob’s voice is
drowned out by the sound of music being turned on and up. I don’t recognize the
song, but it sounds like an Italian opera. Jacob plays Italian opera music
sometimes when he’s holding meetings in his office.

I feel blinded by the melody reverberating through the
walls. I can’t hear what is happening. My heart starts to thud in my ears and
it races to beat to the tempo of the music. I step forward, the light drawing
me closer like a moth to candlelight. I feel like I’m moving without
consciousness, like I’m being drawn against my will to press my eye to the gap.
I can start to see movement through the space.

Almost there.

One more step.

I lift up my fingers and press them to either side of the gap
between the door and the doorframe. Lightly, softly. Don’t make any noise.
Don’t push too hard to cause the door to wobble.

I press my eye to the space.

I can see Jacob. He’s standing and facing the far
wood-paneled wall and he has his back to me. I see Snake standing on one side
of a woman, holding her in place by the sheer vice-like, white-knuckled grip he
has on her slim upper arm. Snake is facing the girl and the girl is facing me.

This must be Adele. She’s blonde, but the straw fake-blonde
of over-bleached hair. She is wearing a red dress that could hardly be called a
dress. More like a belt. I would hate her completely if I couldn’t see the
blood running down the side of her mouth. My insides prickle with tension. Even
from here I can tell she has been crying. Even from here I can smell the stink
of her fear.

She starts to struggle, but Snake twists her arm back hard,
and she can’t tear away. My arm aches for her.

I don’t see the gun in Jacob’s gloved hand until he lifts it
to point at her. No, this isn’t real. I’m just watching a film. See, even the
lady’s singing knows that it is time to crescendo into a high note.

Adele knows she is going to die. I can see on her face the
moment she gives up. Her shoulders collapse and her pink mouth screws up.

No!
I want to yell at her.
Don’t give up. Never
give up.

As if Adele hears my thoughts, I swear her eyes find mine
from across the room, two hollow pools. For a moment they lighten as if they
are signaling me for help. Or perhaps it is just the shine of light against her
tears. And I can’t see anything else except for her eyes.

Then they roll into her head and she slides down the wall, Snake
having let go of her. The rest of the room comes back into focus. I see the
blood splatter across the wood panel. I see the dark red hole in her forehead
before she slumps completely to the floor. And I see Jacob, my Jacob, my lover,
lowering his gun.

And the lady keeps singing like nothing has happened. Like
the world hasn’t shifted. And I can’t take my eyes off the blood on the wall.

I flinch when Jacob moves to hand the gun to Snake. The
horror of what I have witnessed wraps around me, crushing my lungs, and I can’t
breathe. Snake moves out of my sight. Jacob pulls off his black gloves. And
everything starts to spin.

Then the music is cut off. And that’s when my world rights
again.

The silence is throbbing in my ears along with the glub glub
of the blood rushing through my veins. Blood in my veins. Blood on the wall.

I just witnessed a murder. Somebody shot Adele. At the
moment I can’t mentally connect Jacob to this sentence. I can’t believe it. I
can’t believe he just killed someone.

My Jacob.

What... What if he comes in here to wash his hands?

I have to get out of here without being noticed. I have to
pretend I didn’t see anything and then…

Nothing comes after that thought. I just need to get out of
here.

I back away from the gap across the cold bathroom tiles, not
wanting to take my eyes off the space. I bump into something and almost scream.
I slam my knuckles against my mouth to silence myself. It’s just the edge of
the toilet. I have to keep going. I have to watch where I’m going.

I force myself to turn my head away from the door to Jacob’s
office. Immediately my neck protests by shocking my hairs into standing. Don’t
turn your back on Jacob. Never turn your back on Jacob. My ears are perked up
and waiting for the sound of the door to open behind me and expose me.

I slip through the door into the formal living space. In the
dark it looks like a forest. The tables and couches and chairs all seem to have
grown trunks and limb-like branches. The other door, and my safety, seems to
disappear into the dark beyond.

Can’t look back. Can’t stop. Keep going. Live.

I creep, hunched over, to the main living room door,
fighting myself to stay calm and quiet although all my muscles are screaming at
me to run. Run, God damn it, run!

And my heart. My heart wants to run away, too. It slams
against my ribs and threatens to tear out of my throat.
Keep calm. Quiet. If
you want to live.

I weave my way in and out of the furniture. Almost there. My
foot catches the rug. I lurch forward. My lungs seize up as I flail for a
second. I manage to catch myself before I fall. But I make a small thudding
noise. Shit. Did someone hear it?

I can’t wait to find out. I run to the door and slip through
it. I tear through the living room and into Jacob’s bedroom. Jacob’s room smells
like his cologne. The smell makes me nauseous. My shoes, my clothes. I need my
wallet, my keys. Oh God. What first? I grab a shirt from the top of my bag.

No. The cold realization wraps around my bones. I can’t go.
I need to pretend like I’ve been asleep all along. I can’t leave now. Jacob
will know that something’s wrong. He’ll know that I saw him. I need to pretend
like everything is okay until Jacob lets me go home. It’s the only way I’m
getting out of this apartment alive.