Message 2: “MR. HARRINGTON WOKE AND WANTS YOU HOME NOW.”
There was no way that Stewart was awake. I watched the nurse pump pain medicine into his IV after I’d assured them it was what he wanted. Because it was more of what I wanted seemed irrelevant.
I wasn’t sure what kind of power play Travis thought he was making, but I didn’t plan on participating. I’d already been sucked into one set of fucked-up games. My quota had been filled. Each thought of Stewart’s right-hand man made my blood boil as well as my stomach churn. It was no secret that I detest everything about Travis: quite honestly, the feeling continued to be mutual. It was during Stewart’s warehouse training period that we finally laid our cards on the table. The looks, glances, and smirks that he’d given me during the first year of my marriage finally made sense the first and only time I was faced with him as a friend. Well, not faced. I was blindfolded. I wasn’t sure how either of them thought I wouldn’t recognize the man who’d, for over the last year of my life, spent every waking hour mere inches away from my husband.
Though I handled the situation completely wrong, I learned from it. I also learned that in some ways I could still influence my husband.
Settling into the leather seat of my car, I mused: if that asshole was stupid enough to think I’d keep him employed after Stewart died, he was dumber than he looked. It had been nearly nine years since Stewart’s right-hand man put his cock near me, yet whenever I saw his slimy sneer from the corner of my eye, my stomach lurched. I remembered that day like it was yesterday. I remembered it with the clarity that comes from the first time.
“This is the big test, Tori. We don’t want you disappointing our friends. They’re all anxious to get to know you.”
My hands trembled in his grasp. The tone with which Stewart spoke was as if he were asking me to organize a dinner party, not put myself on display for strangers—or worse, for men I knew. Ever since he’d first brought me to the warehouse, I knew this day was coming. He’d laid it on the line with no room for discussion. This was his desire, his fantasy, and the reason he’d chosen to make me his wife. This was what I’d agreed to do when I signed his contract.
I could choose to walk away. He’d told me that too. I could accept the clause of the contract that voided our agreement: voided our marriage and freed me from this hell. But at what cost?
Stewart had done everything he’d said. He’d fulfilled his promises: Randall’s debt was paid. My ungrateful stepfather’s life was spared. My mother was able to maintain her façade of perfection while now being able to boast about her daughter and new son-in-law. He’d provided me with every luxury a woman could imagine. Never did he question my expenditures or anywhere I chose to spend money.
I steeled myself against my emotions as he slowly removed my clothes, placed the blindfold over my eyes, and headphones over my ears. With each impending second, I knew I would willingly give up everything. I didn’t give a damn about the money. Randall could make his own fucking way in the world and as for my mother’s social status, I didn’t give a rat’s ass. What kept my hands on the headboard, holding tightly to the wrought-iron spindles, was the realization that Val would not be able to attend Johns Hopkins University.
She’d worked hard to make her grades at the academy. Johns Hopkins was one of the top pre-med programs in the country. It was exclusive and prestigious with only a seventeen-percent acceptance rate. She’d made that cut. Tuition alone was nearly fifty thousand dollars a year. Despite all of Randall and Marilyn’s posturing and proclamations of devotion, they’d never ante up for her tuition, not to mention her room and board.
It wasn’t that Val wasn’t a hard worker: she was. However, was it fair to offer her this opportunity and take it away? That was what would happen if I decided to exercise my right to leave. As long as I played Stewart’s game, I could support my sister and anything else my heart desired.
His voice came through the headphones. “As we’ve discussed, I could tie your hands, but if I do that, I take away your freedom of choice. Nod if you understand.”
I refused to let him know how much this disgusted me. So I summoned all my strength, straightened my neck, and nodded.
“Good girl. Stay focused on me. I’ll be right here with you. Can you hear me all right?”
I nodded.
Of course I could fucking hear him. We’d been playing this game alone, just the two of us, for months.
“Remember, don’t speak. You can make sounds—I love to hear your sounds—but no words. Nod if you understand.”
I nodded.
“Today you’re going to meet our first friend.”
My legs twitched, aching to close and cover myself. The way Stewart had placed them they were slightly bent with my knees to the sides. I was completely exposed.
“No, Tori. I want our friend to see you, to appreciate that sexy, fuckable pussy. I want him to see those luscious tits of yours. I’m sure he’ll enjoy coming all over them as much as I do.”
I closed my eyes and unsuccessfully tried to drown out his voice.
He continued, “I promised you condoms during penetration and that will always be followed. I’m here for you, darling. However, don’t be surprised if some of our friends take them off to bathe your gorgeous tits or your perfect ass; others may let you suck them. Remember to be a good girl and swallow.” His words taunted and demeaned, while his tone was sultry and encouraging. It was a cruel game.