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Good Girl(10)

By:Willow Winters

I don’t like it. I fucking hate how hurt she is. “How about we take a seat?” I cock a brow at her and walk forward. I keep my movements slow. I half expect her to take a step back, to flinch. But she doesn’t move. She lets me place my hand on the small of her back and guide her to the bed.

I pat the comforter with my right hand. “Hop on up.” I sit my ass down and the bed dips with my weight as she climbs on and settles herself. Her shoulders turn inward, but she looks back at me expectantly, waiting for another order.

Jesus. I hate this shit. I know they trained her to behave like this. But I can’t handle this shit.

I’m staying far away from her. I can’t get attached. Can’t lose her, either. I’ll do what I have to so I can survive this, and then I’m cutting my ties. This shit isn’t for me.

“I need to head out and grab some things. I want you to stay here.”

“I understand,” she answers immediately. Like it’s that fucking easy.

“I’m thinking I should tie you up or put you in a room.” I don’t say it like a question, but that’s exactly what it is.

She nods her head slightly. “I understand,” she repeats. I take a deep breath.

“Which would you prefer?” I ask. I guess that’s the least I can do.

Her hand wraps around her wrist and a sad look crosses her face. “I would rather be locked in a room.”

“It’ll have to be the closet.” Her face falls at my words. I’d put her ass in the bathroom, but I can only imagine the trouble she’d get herself into. I could see her shattering the mirror and trying to stab me with a shard of glass. I’ve seen a lot of shit over the years. I’m keeping her ass away from anything that could be used as a weapon. And that means it’ll be the closet.

“I think I’d rather be tied up, if you’d allow it,” she responds. She swallows thickly and adds, “Please, sir.”

“I don’t like you calling me sir.” The words fly out of my mouth before I can stop them. They come out hard, but she doesn’t flinch. I probably shouldn’t have done that. I don’t know if they trained her to do that or not.

“I understand. I’ll call you whatever you wish,” she’s quick to respond.

I search her face, but I find nothing. “When they get here, call me sir. If anyone comes over, you call me sir. But for now, just call me Kane.” It’s probably a bad idea. All of this is a bad idea though.

She nods her head again and answers, “Yes, Kane.” Hearing her say my name makes me feel more at peace than it should.

I take a moment to absorb everything. She’s so obedient. It’s surreal. My brow furrows, and I have to wonder what all she’s been through. My chest hurts thinking about how much she has to be hurting. I swallow the lump growing in my throat and get off the bed.

I can’t think about it. I can’t go soft. I can’t help her. I’m only one man and she doesn’t belong to me. They’ll be here soon enough and then I won’t have to deal with this.

Guilt weighs heavily on my chest at that thought. I know she doesn’t deserve this. No one does. I pinch the bridge of my nose and try to get out of my head.

This is a job.

My phone goes off in my pocket and I’m quick to answer it. Not because I really give a fuck who’s on the other line; I just need to think about something else.

“This is Kane.” I answer like I always do, and I fucking regret picking up the phone when I hear the voice at the other end.

“And this is Abram.” I’m surprised he called, but I'm also pissed. I fucking hate that I got myself in this mess. Why is he calling me though? I would think he has more important things to do.

“What can I do for you?” I ask. It’s hard to keep the irritation out of my voice. I’m so fucking pissed off that I even thought about working for this prick. I’ve felt regret before. But this is something else. I need to figure out how to get out of this situation and keep my ass alive.

My eyes drift to Ava. If I can...No. I stop that train of thought. It’ll just get both of us killed. She’s not mine. I’m doing a job.

“I wanted to make sure the Valettis are playing nice.”

“They set me up in a safe house. I have my first meet with them tomorrow.”

“Good. And the girl?” he asks.

“What about her?” I feel defensive and protective. I don’t like it. But more than that, I don’t like that he’s asking about her. She’s in my possession right now.

“Are you enjoying her company?” he asks, and I can practically see his sick smile. I don’t know how I want to answer him. He expects me to fuck her. To degrade her. To enjoy owning her. He’s going have to learn to manage his expectations. I suppose it’s better to lay the groundwork for that now.