Love Scars: Bad Boy's Bride(9)

By: Nicole Snow

Shit! I stared deep into his eyes, searching, wondering if this entire thing was some sick bastard's joke.

There was amusement in his eyes, but it wasn't playful. The handsome psycho holding me was deadly serious.

I tried to keep breathing. It wasn't easy when the lust was overpowering my anger, one ruthless piece at a time with his hand so close to where I gushed and ached. I was coming unraveled right there, lusting after a man who filled my heart with total contempt.

He pulled himself away in one rough movement, sending me crumpling down again, clawing at the chair for support. I caught myself and stayed on my knees.

“I'll give you the day to get used to this house and screw your head on straight. Dry those bright eyes,” he said, stepping away and pointing his finger at me. “Tonight, babe, it's just you, me, and a bed. Welcome to your fucking honeymoon.”

I never knew how long I lingered there. The door slammed shut and I kept my head against the leather for a good long while. Stomach churning, head throbbing, heart ripping to shreds.

Jesus Christ, Dad. What have you done to me?

I was starting to hate my own father worse than David and his sick promises. Was the family enterprise really more important than his own daughter? He had to have some idea what he'd thrown me into.

Asshole. My brain wanted someone to pay, someone to take my hate and anger out on.

The brave front I clung to this morning was long gone. All of it.

What the hell was I fighting for when I was sent into this animal's clutches without even an explanation why? He signed the paperwork himself, went along with David's scheme to tell the state I was barely competent, forged my signature to give me up – my own fucking father!

My stomach lurched. I stood, forcing the world to settle. I promised myself that no matter what happened, I wouldn't throw up. I wasn't going to let all this sickness get to my head.

For the first time, I saw my surroundings the way I should've since I first got here: I looked for an escape.

I couldn't depend on family or blood or wealth anymore. I had to get away from him, and I had to do it all myself. I straightened my clothes and ignored the tension knotting my intestines.

Walking through the house, I avoided the servants as best I could. There were only a few cleaners stooped over the floors and counters in different rooms, diligently doing their duty. The ones who looked up muttered shyly in something that sounded like Russian, and ignored me as they went back to their duties.

No one cared that I was here. No one except my traitor father and the beast who prowled this estate. If I could avoid them both, then maybe I had a prayer.

I walked the full main floor, over ten thousand square feet, peeking through various rooms. The main doors to the beautiful looking garden were all sealed up, bolted and armed with a security system whose screen flashed warning when I grabbed the handle.

There's got to be another way...there always is.

It was waiting for me just outside the massive kitchen. There was a walk in pantry and deep freezer with a door leading out to a small loading dock outside. A skinny young man nodded to me. His features looked foreign, and I doubted he knew English.

I decided to test these peasants and see if they would stop me. He clearly watched me heading for the door. The man looked up once, sniffed, and returned to unloading the truck with another older man, who also didn't show much interest as I walked along their ramp, jumping down on the pavement at the lowest point.

I took it slow until the truck was behind me. Then I took off, bolting for the gardens, hurling myself through the vast trimmed hedges and over stony plots of flowers and moss.

It was dark, an early rainstorm above bringing the evening to a close faster than usual. I must've slept or passed out after his grotesque surprise. Just as well. If I could get through these gardens and the thick forest beyond, I'd be free by night, free before he came upstairs to wreck me with his mad desire and hard edges I couldn't resist.

Never! I promised myself. I'll never let that big, cruel, tattooed bastard twist his naked body around mine. I'll never give in, never lose my head again like last night...

Last. Fucking. Night.

The ruthless memory forced my knees to work faster. I hurtled through the gardens, onto the neat cobble path leading toward the forest. There was one more gate to unlatch, which I struggled with in record time, and then I was free.


I breathed in the late summer night, filling my lungs with comforting warmth. Just before I entered the thick brush where the path ended, I stopped. The woods were dense, far darker inside the thickets. The branches were snarled. This estate was part of the city – supposedly – but it must've been on the very edge, close to the preserves where urban glamor gave way to rolling suburbs and quiet country.

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