The Tycoon's Secret(14)

Sierra felt bile rise in her throat. She knew her father was evil, how could she not? But, without saying the words, he was telling her she was nothing more than a slave to be traded. She knew he felt nothing but disdain for her, but she'd thought somewhere, maybe deep down inside, that he cared the tiniest bit.

She'd been wrong.

With brief words, he'd explained what was expected of her. She feared there wasn't a job at all. Maybe Damien had just bought her as his mistress. Could she go through with it if that was the case?

The reality was that she probably could. What made the entire matter worse was that she'd rather be this stranger's sex-toy than her father's whipping post. There weren't words to describe the misery coursing through her in that moment.

Only the angst of defying her father kept her standing before him with no expression. She knew better than to show weakness, or release the tears that so desperately wanted to fall. The cost was too great at showing him any emotion.

"I understand, Father. I won't disappoint you," she reluctantly responded. She knew she'd been taking too long to reply, because she saw the twinge in his jaw, her alert that he was losing control.

"Good. Don't forget it. Now, give me a hug to keep up the Monroe image," he commanded, his body stiff as if having to touch her disgusted him.

Obediently, she moved forward, keeping a few inches from touching him, as she carefully wrapped her arms around his shoulders and gave him an awkward hug. He lifted one hand and patted her back, before pushing her away.




 

 

To an observer it may have looked like a sad goodbye between a father and daughter, but only if they were far away. Up close, their faces would've given them away. His was filled with loathing, hers filled with resolve.

Sierra once again thought of her mother. How could the woman actually marry such a cruel man, and then make it even worse by having children with him? She'd never do that to a child of hers  –  not for all the comforts in the world. She didn't want to think her mother had married for money, but she didn't see any other reason anyone would choose to marry Douglas.

Without saying anything further, Douglas turned, knowing she'd follow him, and they walked silently back to the limo where Damien was casually leaning against the door.

"All set?" he asked, his eyes searching her face.

She looked down, unwilling to let the Master-of-Reading-People, read her.

"Of course," she quietly replied.

Damien gave a short shake of his head in a silent command as he glanced to his left. Sierra turned and noticed their driver turn around and head back to the front of the vehicle. Damien then opened the door and motioned for her to climb inside. Without saying anything else to her father, she stepped into the back, and waited for Damien to follow.

He joined her and pulled the door shut. As the car started to move, Sierra looked out the window, watching as her home  –  prison  –  started to fade from view.

The fear of Damien faded as pure elation filled her. For a few precious moments she forgot the man across from her and reveled in her liberation.

As she turned her head, a small smile playing on her lips, her eyes connected with the dark green depths of Damien's. Her smile faded as her earlier anxiety rose to the surface. She may be free from her father, but could she have possibly jumped into a fire much worse than the one she'd been in?

A shudder racked her body as his eyes darkened even more, his gaze holding her captive.

∞∞∞

With reluctance, Damien pulled his gaze away from Sierra's large, captive eyes. Everything about this woman seemed to rattle him to his very core. She was beautiful, sure, but so were a million other women in the world.

He figured it had to be the mystery surrounding her. He wanted to know the reasons she'd so willingly sacrificed herself. Who would so quickly submit to leaving into the unknown with a stranger? She was either that greedy, or that desperate.

If it was a matter of greed, he knew how to deal with that, but if it was the other …  Well, he feared going there, as it brought up too many memories of his own past.

They rode in silence for several minutes as she looked out the window and he examined the set to her shoulders, the way she gazed at the passing scenery as if seeing it for the first time. When he felt the quiet had gone on for long enough, he moved to the small fridge and pulled out a bottle of sparkling water, pouring two glasses. 

"Here," he said, holding the crystal out to her. She slowly turned around and looked at his hand as if it would bite her. He found himself wanting to smile, but held back.

He had left her with the impression she was to be basically nothing more than his beck-and-call girl. He understood her hesitancy in accepting anything from him.