“Wake up!” He slaps me across the face. My eyes open just as he’s tugging on the end of his blood-soaked cock. Grabbing me around the throat, he drags me closer as hot semen shoots from the tip and lands all over my face. Yelling out in pleasure, he drowns me in his acid, body convulsing, and shaking.
“That’s right, baby, take it.” Lifting his hand, he rubs it into my face and hair. “You damn beautiful bitch.”
He collapses on top of me, spent breaths blowing against my neck. There I lie, a monster on top of me, heart ripped open and a virgin no more. And finally, I die. At least, that’s what I pray to happen.
Chapter Six
My door bursts open, and I wake with a start as an older nurse named Vera enters my room. “It’s time for your meeting.”
Sitting up, I rub my eyes, noticing it’s dark outside now, and I slept most of the day after Gabriella’s visit. Six o’clock only means one thing—Milton and my impending doom. I can’t seem to swallow the lump in my throat as I stand.
I was hoping I’d imagined him as I follow Vera out of my room and down the hall. When we get to the far end of the corridor, we stop beside a set of double doors that I’ve never been down before. “Keep going until you reach the end.”
She doesn’t make a move to follow as I pass to the other side. As I glance back at her, I notice she’s not looking at me. Tired eyes avoid mine, and I think it’s on purpose.
I begin making my way down the corridor. Soft, classical music plays in the background, building up to a crescendo the closer I approach the white doors at the end. It’s an exquisite piano piece that threatens to soothe my nerves. Drop my guard.
I’d be an idiot to let it.
Finally, I enter a large room with a high ceiling and tall windows when passing through the other doors. It doesn’t feel like I’m in the same building anymore. It’s spacious in here, with black wooden floors and antique suede couches—nothing like the old, rickety furniture in the patients’ wing. The clinical smell that frequents the hallways has now been replaced with the scents of jasmine and musk.
It’s familiar and all Milton, transporting me to when I was on the back of his bike with my arms clinging to his waist—
Heels tapping on the floor snap my attention to a woman approaching me. Dressed in all black, her hair pushed back into a chiffon knot, the only thing bold about her appearance is the blood-red lipstick that coats her lips—something her thin bone structure doesn’t really suit.
“Good evening, Miss Adams,” she greets me in a British accent, like Milton’s, which only confuses me more. “If you want to take a seat, Mr. Hood will be with you shortly.”
She then exits the room before I have a chance to say anything, leaving me no choice but to sit and wait.
As the minutes tick by, my insides coil tighter. It’s not long before footsteps echo around me. Like the footsteps outside my bedroom door in the club. Those times he used to sit outside my room whenever Blake was on the road, protecting me from any other fucker who wanted what their leader had.
Heavy. Assured.
Twisting my head to glance over my shoulder, the Milton I don’t know finally rounds the corner wearing another suit—this one gray with a black waistcoat. I hate the way my body reacts. How I can hardly catch my breath as he makes his way over to me, finally reaching me.
Shivers tumble down my spine, and I can’t look at him in the eye, not even as he says, “Follow me.”
Taking a deep breath, I reluctantly get up and follow him. We go into another room—a private office with the same color scheme as outside. Fire burns logs in the fireplace; the flames angry and bright, casting an orange glow against the walls. “Take a seat.” I eye the only seat I can take opposite his desk.
My heart jumps to my throat when the door closes behind me. Milton moves around me. He unbuttons his jacket and takes a seat behind the desk once he’s in view. As his body leans back in his chair, moody eyes watch me like never before. Not when he was in the club. Not even yesterday when he came to my room.
“I insist you sit unless you want me to force you. It’s up to you.” Knowing he’d do just that, I move over to the chair and sit on the edge. A few moments of silence pass until finally, he says, “I was just finishing reading through your recent report.” He opens my file that’s on the desk in front of him and shuffles through the papers. “Shall I read it to you?”
“I don’t care.”
Standing with the folder in hand, he moves around the table slowly. “Heidi refuses to talk about what happened.” Eyes pin me with a curious stare. “And what is it that happened?”
“This is getting boring, Milton,” I say with clenched teeth. It’s in my file. Why is he making me say it?
“Tell me.”
I squeeze the leather seat with my fingers. “I took tablets for a headache.”
“How many?”
My nails puncture through, hating that he’s doing this. “Until the pain went away. Do you want an exact number?”
Hiding his smile, his gaze drops back to the file. “Heidi deflects from issues that are discussed, tending to blame everyone but herself. Attention limited. Little to no regard for anyone else’s feelings and is considerably detached from her own. Lies continuously about bad things that have happened to her.” He pauses, glancing at me over the pages. “Now, that’s something I can agree with.”
My
