CHAPTER-27
NIGHT CHANGES
I woke up sore.
Everything hurt, especially my back and my ass.
I love you.
Christian's whispered confession made me jolt up from the bed.
I blinked several times to find myself in a familiar bed. And a familiar room.
I was back in my cage.
Fuck. I slept through the whole flight. Again.
Was it exhaustion or Christian drugged me again? I highly doubt the latter one. He didn't drug me. He wore me out with sex.
With sex.
Oh, God. I buried my head in my hands as images of earlier flashed through my head. I had anal sex with my kidnapper. And then he fucked me until everything became a sweet pain. And then he told me he loved me.
Oh, God.
Fuck.
Fuck.
The click of the lock brought me back from my thoughts as I watched Caroline walk in with a big smile plastered on her face.
"I hope you had a good time?" She smiled as she placed down a tray of which smelled like coffee and pancakes.
My cheeks turned crimson as she gave me a knowing smile. Did she know what happened on the flight? As far as I remember, I slept naked...
I quickly threw the covers to find myself in my pajamas and a thin shirt. Thank fuck, at least Christian didn't bring me here naked.
I swear that man was capable of anything.
"Have a shower. Then eat something. I'm making your favorite for dinner." She smiled and then she locked me in again.
Shower. Yes, I needed a shower.
My ass was sore when I walked into the bathroom and while I was undressing, I noticed the anklet back on my leg. I had my tracker back on.
I snorted. What else did I expect?
I filled the bathtub with hot water as I settled in.
I love you.
Christian was in love with me. Why was he in love with me? He didn't even feel anything. Then how the fuck was he in love with me?
Why was I even thinking about it?
I should be thinking about how to get the fuck out of here. The sex, his confession and my fucked up feelings didn't change anything.
Anything.
I still had my fiancé, whom I loved so much, and I had to return to him.
My Liam.
Clearing my head, I washed my hair and shaved my legs. By the time I was done, I wrapped a towel around my body and tucked it between my breasts and also wrapped my hair in a towel.
Get yourself together, bitch.
I opened the door to find Christian standing by the window, looking out, dressed in a black suit.
He turned toward me as he heard the door unlock and a big smile stretched his lips.
Fuck, that smile.
I hesitated as I stepped out in the room, watching Christian from the corner of my eye as he stood there with his hands in his pocket, his eyes on me. Always on me.
"I hope you're not sore." He said.
If he was thinking of having sex again, I was going to cut his d*ck off.
"I am. Don't even think about putting your d*ck anywhere near me." I glared.
At that, he chuckled as he walked close, so close that I backed up against the wall and he put his one arm on the wall, and with his other hand grabbed my chin and lifted my head to meet his eyes.
"I won't fuck you. Not today, at least. I think last time was too much for you. Though I'm glad I wore you out with sex." He grinned.
I swatted his chest which made him chuckle.
"Why are you so dressed up in the evening?" Why did I even ask that?
He sighed as he leaned forward to nip my earlobe, "I have to attend a party. I don't wanna go and I'd rather spend my day with you but it's important. And I can't take you with me as well." He met my eyes, "Because you'll try to run again."
Hmm. Probably a smart idea.
I took in a breath. "Then what are you waiting for? Go ahead, no one's stopping you."
He gave me a loopsided smile, "That fucking attitude."
Before I could say anything, he kissed me and my hands immediately went to his shoulder, to pull him closer as he ravaged my mouth.
His hand went to my throat as he growled in my mouth, bit my lip and licked it to soothe me.
When we parted, I was breathing hard and so was he. His eyes went down to my cleavage and I followed his gaze to see that my towel had slipped down, almost flashing my n*pples.
I went to remedy my situation but Christian was quicker than me. He pushed my towel up, covering my breasts as he whispered, "Don't let that towel drop, sweetheart." He pressed a kiss on the corner of my mouth, "Because if I see your naked tits, I'm going to want to suck your pretty little n*pples. And if I suck your n*pples, I'm going to need to bury my c*ck inside you. And I can't do that, right?" He breathed at the corner of my mouth, "Because you're sore. I made your p*ssy and ass sore and—"
I put my finger on his lips. "Just...just shut up, please. Stop saying things like that."
His brows knitted but then he pressed a kiss on my fingertip which made me jerk my hand back. "But I thought you liked when I talk like this."
I didn't say I don't, but you're not supposed to talk like this all the time.
"I don't." I said instead.
"Hmm." He licked his lips as he eyed my lips once then met my eyes. "Then maybe I should tell you how much I love you. Perhaps you'd like to hear about it?"
I swallowed. "You don't even know what love is. You don't even feel."
"You know the difference between a psychopath and a sociopath?" He asked.
"I have no idea."
"People talk about levels of aggression, mimicry, those sorts of things. But if you read about it, ultimately, it comes down to whether you can care about another person. Until I met you, I was a psychopath. And then I was a sociopath."
"That's better?"
He laughed. "I think it's more a distinction without a difference."
"So you care about me?"
He nodded. "I'd die for you. Kill for you."
He smiled, brushing his lips against mine. "When it comes to you, sweetheart, I feel everything. What I felt for you was obsession at its finest, but over time, I realized, this type of obsession ran deeper and wilder than I ever anticipated. This type of obsession is a twisted translation of love. You own me. Body and soul." He traced my lips with his thumb and I shivered, both with his touch and his words. "I told you, your actions define mine. You define me. You can treat me as your equal or as your slave our whole lives, I won't mind. You'll tell me to take you somewhere where no one can find you, I will. You'll tell me to give everything up and follow you, I will. Nothing matters to me, nothing, as long as you're with me. As long as you will take me with you."
Please, stop it. Stop it.
"It's my job to make you happy. I lack the capacity to do so on my own. I can't love. I can't feel guilt or empathy or remorse, any of the things that might help me understand what you need. All I have is research and context clues, which I'm not very good at interpreting. But I can give you what you need. I'll do whatever it takes. But I can't do it without help. Testing my theories is all I know."
"If you weren't in this world, Stella, I'd find a way to take myself out of it. I don't know what love feels like, but I imagine it's like the feeling I'm having right now. If it comes down to random strangers or you, I'll choose you every time. I'll literally burn this world to ash before I let somebody hurt you. I don't care who suffers because of it. I know that's intense and weird but I need you to know I mean it. You're not going to leave me, and I'm not letting you go. If you're going to leave me, you're going to kill me while you're at it."
"I don't care if you don't love me back, I'll love you so much that you'd never love anyone else. You won't even think about any other man. You'll see, Stella, that I am the only man who can do anything for you. And when you'll accept me as I am, we'll have a family. We'll make babies, as many babies as you want. And then, then you won't ever ask to leave again."
He smiled all the way through his speech while I was standing there, stunned and...scared of his words. Why did he have to go and say things like these? Why make it so damn hard?
Christian's smile fell when I didn't say anything. He swallowed audibly, "I should go."
And within three seconds, he was gone.
****
CHRISTIAN'S POV :-
The music was hurting my ears as I sat at the bar, drinking my scotch. I had no idea why people liked violins, they screeched for fuck's sake.
But today was important. I had to be here. For my Stella.
Another thing I read in Stella's bucket list. To have her own gallery in Australia. Stella's father wanted to visit Australia before he died but she couldn't take him due to financial issues but now I was here. I couldn't being her father back, but at least I could give her the gallery.
Which brought me here, to this damn party. Dante Harper was an art collector. He also helped new artists to set up their own galleries. I had already talked to him on the phone that I wanted his help for my girlfriend and he invited me here.
And Dante fucking Harper hadn't showed up here from the past one hour and twenty six minutes.
I sipped my scotch as my mind drifted back to Stella. She didn't say a word when I told her I love her. She was right, that I didn't know what love is, but I had Googled it. And what Google told me, somewhat matched with everything I felt for her. I just didn't know why she couldn't get to terms with living with me. She obviously liked having sex with me. She even let me fuck her throat and her ass. She liked playing with my c*ck. She liked my kisses. She shivered everytime I was near her and—
"Christian." A woman purred beside me.
I knew who she was.
Jessica Rhodes.
I wasn't surprised that she was here, I saw her husband earlier, but I was surprised that I didn't hear her come close to me. I always, always, checked my surroundings.
"Jessica." I clenched my jaw as I met her eyes. Her golden hair was tied in a bun and she wore a green dress and showed too much of her cleavage that I thought her tits would spill on the table if she leaned forward.
"Fancy seeing you here." She leaned forward so her breasts pressed up against my bicep as she ran a finger up my arm. This could turn me on, her tits and her touch before I met my Stella, but now my c*ck didn't even twitch.
"I don't like seeing you here. Go find your husband." I pushed her away and sipped my scotch.
She didn't leave.
"I haven't had sex in a month. I would love to ride your d*ck today." She whispered in my ear and kissed down my neck, rubbing her lips against my collar.
I pushed her again. "I'll pass."
"I'll let you fuck me in the ass." She offered.
"Not interested." Was she this clingy everytime? But we never got this far. The two times we had fucked, she told me she wanted sex and I followed her. As simple as that.
"I'll suck your d*ck. All of it." She offered again. I glanced at her throat. Didn't even compare to my Stella. "Go find another d*ck to swallow and ride." I told her.
She sighed finally and just when I thought she'd leave me alone, she opened her mouth again. "At least have a drink with me."
If I could shove the words back down her throat, I would.
"Alcohol is bad for your legs."
For the corner of my eye, I saw her eyebrows dip. "Why? Do you think they swell?"
"No." I finished my scotch. "They spread."
Her jaw fell open. "Excuse me?"
"Gladly. But I don't think you need alcohol to spread your legs, they spread just fine without it as well."
Since she was making no move to leave, I got up and scanned the area. Dante still wasn't here.
This man had started to piss me off.
I tracked the room for every man when a small figure bumped into me. Dark locks and big eyes, white dress covering her up. Her hand was on my chest, which I didn't like for a second by the way, as she looked up at me with something akin to recognition.
"Christian Pierce."
The moment she opened her mouth, two problems occurred.
One, she knew me. That wasn’t the problem, no, the problem was that I didn't know her. And people didn't know me until I knew them first.
Two, her hand was still on my chest. Only my Stella had the right to touch me like this.
I cleared my throat. "Yes? My apologies, but do we know each other?"
I couldn't have forgotten her if we had. I had an excellent memory.
"Yes. I mean, no. I know you, you probably don't know me." She laughed almost like she was nervous. What was funny?
She made no attempt to remove her hand so I stepped back so her hand fell to her side. She stretched the same hand towards me, "Hello, I'm Camille Alonso. I'm a friend of Stella. Stella Johnson? I'm not sure if you remember her. I work at her gallery."
Oh?
I shook her hand with a smile. How the fuck did she know me? I made sure no one was there when I went to see Stella for the first time at her gallery. Did they talk about me?
"I remember Miss Johnson. But I didn't see you with her." I said, dropping her hand.
She laughed again. "Yes, I know. Stella told me about you. You were the one who bought that hideous artwork at our gallery. I Googled you that day. But you magically disappeared the other day when I tried again."
I had put my single picture and something about me on Google just in case Stella searched me. But it backfired. Her friend did. But why did Stella told her about me?
I didn't ask Camille why she searched me on Google. It was obvious. She was interested in me. Most women were, and I'm not bragging. I wasn't bad looking. But she didn't know the real me. If she did, she'd be running away from me as fast as humanly possible.
I smiled at her. "Well, I think Google doesn't think I'm worth having myself on the Internet. Is Miss Johnson here with you as well?" I asked, just for appearances sake.
Her brows dipped, smile gone. "No. Stella is missing. For a month now. We've been looking for her everywhere. It's like...she just vanished. No trace of her, nothing. She just left a letter with her fiancé, saying that she found someone else and she's leaving him."
Huh.
"But that's the problem, you see. Stella would never do that. She loved Liam. She would never leave him for another man. Even if she did, she would never do it like this. She'd tell him at his face that she was leaving. She wouldn't just vanish, leaving her mom and her job behind. I'm sure something is fishy. Liam recieved a call the other day from Stella. She said one of her clients kidnapped her. But we couldn't trace the call."
And you never would. I destroyed everything, the phone, the lines, everything.
I feigned pity. "I'm so sorry to hear that, Miss Alonso. I'm here if you need any help."
"Actually, yes, you can." A man walked beside Camille, in a black tux and his hair slicked back.
Liam Ellison.
My eye twitched and my hand clenched. What the fuck was he doing here? Why didn't I see him before? And could someone hand me a gun to blow his ugly face up?
I clenched my jaw. "And you are?"
He extended his hand. "Liam Ellison. Stella's fiancé." I tried so hard not to flinch at the fiancé part as I shook his hand.
Not anymore, fucker. She's mine.
"Mr. Ellison. I'm sorry to hear about Miss Johnson. Have you found any lead yet?" I asked.
He nodded. "I have. The police is verifying whether it's true or not. I'm sure we'd get the results soon."
He had a lead? A fucking lead? Or was this just a bait?
But no, why would this fucker bait me? He didn't know me, did he? He couldn't have tracked me. He had never even seen me before.
A trickle of something cold and foreign washed down my spine. It took me several beats to identify it.
Uncertainty.
Something as unfamiliar to me as rainstorms were to deserts.
I met that fucker's eyes head on. He didn't look at me like he suspected me but then why did he say he had a lead? Camille herself said they couldn't track me and they had nothing.
Was this fucker hiding something?
I forced a smile. "Well, then, I hope you find her soon, Mr. Ellison. Now, if you'll excuse me." I made a move to leave, but his voice stopped me.
"Mr. Pierce?"
I turned to watch him with wary eyes. "Why did you buy that hideous painting?"
I shrugged. "I found it interesting."
His eyes narrowed but I kept my cool. "Hmm." Then he smiled, "Nice meeting you, man."
I nodded.
It was not nice meeting you, man.
********
Stella was reading a book when I was back. My mood immediately lightened the moment I saw her.
I left the party immediately after my encounter with her friends. Dante fucking Harper could fuck off. I would find some other way.
Her eyes narrowed when I sat in front of her. She looked...tired. She told me she was sore, but she wasn't that sore, was she? I didn't even ask her if she needed a doctor. What if she needed a doctor? What if I had hurt her?
Panic clawed my chest.
"Should you see a doctor?" I asked her.
Her eyes flicked up from my throat. "Why?"
"You said you were sore. And you look tired. That's why. You aren't hurt, are you?"
She sighed. "I told you, Christian. I'm fine."
I believed her.
I leaned close to her. She smelled of apples and germanium. "Then what do you need?" I nuzzled her neck and pressed a kiss.
She shivered.
I smiled.
"Nothing."
I ignored her. "Maybe I can lick your p*ssy. No fingers, no c*ck. Just my tongue. I would kiss her better. I would kiss your cl*t and then your tiny hole, then—"
"Stop, please." Despite her protest, she flushed and almost moaned when I pressed kisses along her jaw and neck.
"Why?"
She suddenly pulled away from me. "You clearly enjoyed your party. Scotch and...perfume?"
I blinked. Twice. She lost me.
"You smell like a woman's perfume, Christian. And you have lipstick on your collar."
I looked down. Sure, I had red lipstick on my shirt collar and I sniffed myself. Definitely didn't smell like myself.
I smiled. "Jealous?"
She scoffed and shook her head. "You call me a whore. And you treat me like one."
I was on her in a second. I grabbed her hands and pinned them above her head as I hovered over her.
"I don't treat you like a whore. I only call you that when we fuck because you take me so good. There are no other women. You are the only one I give my c*ck to."
She glared at me. "Then what's with the perfume and the lipstick?"
"A woman I fucked before came to me and asked me to fuck her. I turned her down. That's all, nothing happened. I swear." I told her.
Her eyes narrowed. "How can I believe you?"
I tilted my head. "I answered your question. Now answer me first. Why do you care? Are you jealous?"
I would never admit it to her but her not saying that she loves me back hurt. I didn't like it. She didn't even believe I love her.
She scoffed again. "You're right. I don't care. Now get off me."
I pressed, "Are you sure, sweetheart, hmm? You wouldn't care if I fucked dozen women and then come home to you covered in their perfume and lipstick? No? You would be okay if I tell them all the things I tell you. How I want to fuck them, how I would lick their p*ssies and then fuck them missionary. Then I would kiss their p*ssy because I hurt her."
She didn't say anything. But it was evident in her eyes. She didn't like what I was saying.
So I softened. Both, my gaze and my voice. "Just say yes or no, Stella. I wouldn't ask you why."
Silence.
There was silence for a long moment. She wasn't going to say anything. My shoulders dropped.
She really wouldn't care if I fucked a ton of women. It would mean nothing to her.
I mean nothing to her.
No matter what I do, I was never going to be the man who would deserved to stand beside her. I was beneath her.
Always beneath every other man for her.
I rubbed my chest with my free hand. The pain was more like a burn. My dinner must be disagreeing with me.
The burn was spreading to my guts. I needed an antacid.
I was about to let go of her when a whisper from her stopped me.
"No."
My head snapped down to her. "Did you say no? That you wouldn't like if I touched another women?"
A hesitation, then. "No."
I crashed my lips to her and she wrapped her hands around my neck. I sighed in our kiss. A smile crept my lips as I sucked her tongue then licked the roof of her mouth.
I could settle for this. For now at least.
But she pulled away again. Now what?
"Take off your clothes. You smell like...someone else." Her nose scrunched.
I grinned. I dropped a kiss on her nose. "You get all red when you're jealous, sweetheart. I like it."
She glared and hit me on the arm in return.
I chuckled as I shed my jacket. I undid the first button of my shirt when a knock sounded on the door.
I ignored it. I was on my third button when Arnold called out from the other side, "Sir?"
C*ck-blocker.
"I'm busy." I growled.
"Sir, uh, sorry to disturb, but...someone is here to see you."
I freezed. And so did Stella.
We looked at each other.
I never had visitors. Never in my life. No one even knew where I lived.
Then who the fuck was it?
Did Jessica follow me? No, she wouldn't dare.
Then, who was here?
***************
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