Taken (Dark Legacy Duet 1)

“Do you think you’re the only person doing something against their will?” he asks, surprising me.

“I’m the only Willow I see here.”

“Well, step back and look a little harder. You Willow’s only see things from one perspective: yours. That’s always been the problem.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean not all of us want to be here.”

We both sit quietly for a minute until he stands.

“Do you need anything else?” he asks.

I shake my head. “No. I’ll be fine.”

“Good night, then.” He walks to the door.

“Gregory.”

He stops. “Yes?”

“Thank you.”

“See, it’s not so hard.” With that, he walks out the door and I’m left alone in my room, the windows open to the clear night sky, alone with my bottle of wine.

Again trying to ignore the faint scent of him on the T-shirt, I use both hands to pour myself another glass, splashing some because even though the feeling is coming back, my arms are still weak.

I bring the glass to my mouth and drink a long swallow. I feel better for it and take it with me into the bathroom where I run a bath, pouring almost a full bottle of bubbles in.

After finally stripping off the T-shirt, I slide beneath the sudsy surface. I close my eyes as feeling slowly returns to my arms. I keep thinking about what Gregory said.

Who here is doing something against their will? Sebastian?

No. No fucking way.

I lay back, look up at the ceiling, follow the pattern of the molding. The scent of lavender makes me drowsy. I drink another sip of wine before setting the glass down on the edge of the tub and sliding both arms beneath the surface.

Sebastian is enjoying this. Enjoying my torment.

Gregory is wrong. He’s not doing this against his will.

He may have felt sorry for me after Lucinda caned me, or, more likely, he felt usurped by her, that she was laying claim to a thing that’s his. Taking his toy. That’s more plausible to me.

I close my eyes for a while, listening to the only sound in the room, the occasional drip from the tap. I don’t usually take baths. I don’t take the time. But I have plenty of it now.

As I lie there, I think about how Gregory said what he said.

“You Willows only see things from one perspective: yours.”

What’s he trying to say? That Sebastian doesn’t want to do what he’s doing? That he’s somehow forced to? Why?

But my thoughts are interrupted by Lucinda’s voice in the distance, followed by a male voice and then her grating giggle.

I stand up, wrap a towel around myself, and tiptoe into the bedroom. The sound of an engine starting has me rushing to the window.

From here, I see them. Lucinda and Ethan are walking arm in arm. She’s dressed in a long gown. Moonlight bounces off the gemstones around her neck. Ethan is in a suit or something like it. He helps her up the steps and onto the boat.

I recognize Gregory by his walk. He must be reading something on his phone, because I can see the screen’s light from here. Sebastian follows last.

Earlier, I’d assumed Gregory was coming back from somewhere, not on his way to it when he came to get me. I am a little put off at being left behind. At the fact that Sebastian left me out there for so long, then sent his brother to collect me when he was here in the house all along. More than a little put off the more I think about it.

I duck back inside when Sebastian turns to glance up at my window and wait there, listening for the boat to leave. I dry off quickly, the feeling in my arms back now, and put Gregory’s T-shirt back on then step out into the hallway and listen.

There’s no sound, none at all, and I wonder if the staff has already gone home. I don’t know what time it is.

The house is in semidarkness, lamps on here and there so it’s not pitch-black. I go right and try the first door. It’s an empty bedroom, the bed stripped, the windows closed. I leave it and go to the next, and I know it’s Lucinda’s because of the massive amounts of perfume that assault my senses when I stand in the doorway.

I step inside, leaving the door ajar. The first thing I do is look at the clock. It’s a little after ten o’clock. I wonder where they were going dressed in their finest at this hour.

I walk around her room, noting the pile of dirty clothes on the floor. Probably left it for a maid to clean up after her. Her bed is made and on top of it are strewn three evening dresses, one still on its hanger with the tags attached. They’re not my taste, but I can see they’re expensive.