Cruel Mercy (Dark Mafia)

But I was her protector. And she would do as I said.

My word was law.

She ran up the stairs when we got inside. I had the distinct impression that she was on the verge of tears for the last hour. I didn’t like it, but it didn’t change a thing.

I went to the kitchen to find the maid who looked after the second floor bedrooms.

“Make sure take all of her new things, remove the tags and put them away,” I turned to go, planning on locking myself in my office with a bottle of booze and enough self loathing to fill the ocean. “And get rid of all of those rags she used to wear,” I added, tossing the words carelessly over my shoulder.

Chapter Fourteen

Theresa

I turned over in the big, luxurious bed, feeling strangely lethargic. I blinked at the afternoon sun shining agains the wall. I rolled over and screamed.

“I’m sorry if I startled you, miss. Mr. Michael send me up to check on you.”

I stared at the maid who was opening the curtains as it all came back in a wave. Shopping with Michael. The insane purchases. His fixation on making me into someone I wasn’t. Someone sexy and fancy and fabulous. Coming back here and crying my eyes out, even though I wasn’t quite sure why.

Then crawling into bed and sleeping half the day away.

“It is time to dress for dinner,” she said. “I pulled out something for you to wear, unless you would like to chose.”

I shook my head and got up.

“I can chose my own clothes. Do I have time to shower?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Thank you…” I dangled for her name.

“Sara.”

“Thank you Sara.”

I showered quickly, pinning my hair up so I didn’t have to dry it. I toweled off and used one of the new body oils that had magically appeared on the marble counter, before going to the dresser for my underthings. The maid was still in the room, putting the purchases away. With a sinking heart, I watched as she removed tags from everything. Which meant none of it could be returned, even if I managed to move out and attempt to be a regular student.

“You don’t have to do that,” I said.

“Mr. Michael’s orders, miss.”

I couldn’t argue with that. I didn’t want to get the woman in trouble. She had a kindly manner about her, without being too familiar.

I opened the dresser drawer and stared in shock. Lace and silk were everywhere, neatly organized in matching sets. I saw bras, corsets, panties, even garter belts. I didn’t see my old comfy undies or plain white bras.

I shut the drawer and opened another, that had formerly had my pajamas. Same thing. All the new itemss, none of my comfy old PJs. The sock drawer was the same. T-shirts. Replaced. Workout gear. Brand new. And all the empty drawers were filled.

I turned to look at the maid as reality started to sink in.

“Where are my things?”

“These are your things,” she said.

“My other tings? The things I brought with me.”

“Oh, those are gone,” she said, looking alarmed. “They went out with the trash hours ago.”

I sat abruptly in a chair by the window, still wrapped in the towel.

“Miss? Do you need help getting dressed?”

I nodded. I might as well wear whatever she picked out. I didn’t much care at that particular moment in time.

“I hung a dress and laid some things on the counter,” she said gently a few minutes later. I walked into the bathroom and shut the door. I felt numb as I slid on the white lace bra and panties. The silk floral dress had a deep v neck. The rich, dark floral pattern suited me perfectly. The silk skimmed over my body in a sexy, yet somehow demure way. I slipped into the burgundy leather high heels that were waiting for me. The entire ensemble was flawless, not too formal, but clearly expensive, well made, and elegant while somehow still appearing youthful.

I had never looked better.

I didn’t care.

I’d never been more angry in my life.

“You look beautiful, miss. Mr. Michael will be pleased.”

I restrained myself for telling her that I didn’t give a damn what ‘Mr. Michael’ thought. But I didn’t want to blister the poor woman’s ears. Instead, I held my head up and walked slowly through the house, rehearsing my speech in my mind and fortifying myself with good, old fashioned, self-righteous rage.

By the time I walked in the dining room to see my so-called guardian, who looked absolutely stunned, I was ready for war.

Let the games begin.

Chapter Fifteen

Michael

“Good God,” I breathed, staring at the stunningly beautiful woman standing in front of me. I could have kicked myself, once my brain started functioning again. By providing her with clothing that was worthy, I had inadvertently made her much, much more powerful.

Powerful and dangerous.