Beauty & The Biker

Even so, as mean as he is, I wish he’d kiss me once.

With thoughts of Tristian’s lips, I pull my panties back up and try to sleep with confusion clouding my head.

**

Night has turned into day and I wake from a restless sleep. The vase of blue roses has been changed out, and there is a glass of water with two pain relievers lying next to it sitting on the nightstand. After I swallow the bitter little pills, it occurs to me he could be drugging me. I am so stupid. The man pays me a little attention and I am salivating at the mouth for more of his consideration. My butt cheeks feels sunburned as I climb from bed. I apply more salve and wait for the medication to help ease the stiffness I feel.

Once I am dressed and done mentally abusing myself I make my way downstairs. Remnants of last night are eagerly awaiting my attention. Empty bottles, dirty dishes, and overflowing ashtrays pollute the game room. Those responsible are long gone. The mess they left behind is the only proof they were ever here. Most days and nights are eerily quiet it seems. That doesn’t mean I don’t feel the eyes of his security cameras on me at every moment. What’s he need with so many of them anyway? You’d think he is guarding the national treasure.

I pick up my discarded dress from the floor. Heat flushes my cheeks as I recall how it felt when he put me on display. Heated and dangerous just like Tristian.

I go through the motions getting the room cleaned and by noon, all is as it should be. I haven’t seen Tristian all morning and not by a lack of trying. He manages to disappear often, but in a house this large, it isn’t hard to stay hidden.

I wonder what he does other than trying to confuse the hell out of me. Tying the garbage bag closed, I drag it down the long hall and out the side door off the side of the kitchen. I haven’t been out here before now.

I stuff the bag into the large metal can and place the lid back on top. There is a cobblestone path leading to an iron gate. It’s fairly hot out but I could use the fresh air of a nice walk. No time like the present to explore the grounds since Tristian doesn’t plan on showing me around any time soon.

I make my way through the gate hoping I am breaking a rule if only for the sake of another punishment. How twisted I have become in over a weeks’ time under the roof of Vandacamp Mansion. I barely recognize myself as I pass through the gate and into the woods ahead.

A worn path leads the way through the winding tree line. A lonely crow calls out in warning, telling me to turn back. I know that I should heed his warning but I can’t. The allure of what Tristian will do to me next is all too appealing.

As I am walking along the snap of a twig in the dead silence of the forest spikes my pulse. Turning my head, I glance over my shoulder to find a squirrel running up the side of an old birch tree. Feeling stupid for being scared in the first place, I continue forward until I come to a clearing housing a greenhouse.

It feels vaguely familiar. I feel as if I have been here before. But surely I would remember this if I had.

The small glass building has vines covering the sides and spreading across the roof. It blends in seamlessly with the surrounding area. I wonder how long it has been here and if it is still in use? As I draw nearer, I can hear the faint chatter of someone talking. Tristian.

Peering through the dirty glass, I can barely make him out among all the plants inside. What is he doing? He is speaking into a radio of some sort.

Using the hem of my dress, I wipe at the glass trying to get a better view with no luck.

Suddenly the door swings open with a loud thwack as it bounces off the exterior wall. Before I can try to hide my presence, Tristian has ahold of my arm and my back is pressing into the glass. The metal frame supporting the glass is digging into my back.

His nose is touching the tip of mine. His breathing is heavy as his heaving chest bumps against me. His forehead connects with mine as I concentrate solely on the beating of his heart. It flutters in sync with my own. I know he feels a deeper connection with me. His feelings go further than a debt to be paid.

“What are you doing out here?” He asks his voice raw and husky.

“Just going for a walk. I didn’t mean to spy. Honest.”

The sound of chopper blades hum in the distance. The air around us begins to swirl as his mouth hangs dangerously close to mine. If I press forward a mere centimeter I could kiss those lips I crave.

“You shouldn’t be out here. Isn’t safe.”

A helicopter circling above cuts him off from saying anything further.

“Fuck!” he utters pinching the bridge of his nose as it descends to land. “Just stay out of the way. Come on. Don’t speak.” He pulls me inside and shoves me toward a small wooden stool among a garden of plants, mainly marijuana, but I see he grows roses as well. At least now, I know where they come from when they magically appear in my room.

He has quite the setup. Heat lamps, sprinklers, and plenty of fertilizer.

Tristian orders me to stay put as he goes back out to greet his guests. Drug dealers I am assuming.

After the noise has died down outside, Tristian returns followed by a large man in a suit carrying three silver briefcases. He doesn’t notice my presence at first. He goes about his business with Tristan standing as my shield.

The cases are setup on a nearby table and the clasps clicking open on each of the three echoes through the small room. “Three million,” the man states coolly.

Tristian nods and the man waves his partner in. This man is much shorter but bulky in stature. Both men appear of Italian descent, dark hair, dark eyes, their skin kissed with a natural tan, similar to my own Hispanic complexion.

He reminds me of my father in a way.