This was actually a lot simpler. I placed the bra over the towel and fastened it around it, tugging the towel underneath it and rearranging as best I could without exposing myself. I looked up, proud of myself but noticed the anger in John’s clenched jaw. He yanked the towels from my body, causing an involuntary shriek from me. I frantically reached for my dress but John stood fully, clasping my wrists in his hands.
“Oh my God, Harper,” he breathed, extending my arms out. He took a good, long drinking, look at me. I tried to bring my arms to my chest but he just tightened his grip more. “You are breathtaking. Much more beautiful than the other girls.” I assumed he meant the innocent girls he took because of me and I wanted to vomit. My body shook as he trailed his hands up my arms. I brought my hands to my chest but he yanked them away. “Keep them here,” he said, bringing them to my side. He ran his rough hands over my shoulders to the back of my neck, trailing his fingers down my spine. He brought the palms of his hands over my sides, then down the flat of my stomach. “So soft,” he said quietly, eyeing me with a revolting hunger.
I pushed away from him, making him laugh and brought my dress to cover the front of my body.
“Get dressed,” he ordered. “We’ll have time for that later.”
With trembling hands, I pulled the dress over my head. I just stood there, grateful to be covered, fighting tears that begged to trail down my cheeks.
“Dry your hair. Can’t have you getting sick.”
Chapter Nineteen
Please Don't Go
Harper
Wearing the very outfit I wanted Callum to see me in first, John dragged me out the crap motel door and into the freezing cold.
“Where are we going?” I asked without thinking.
“I didn’t tell you you could talk, Harper,” he said, suddenly and inexplicably angry slamming me against the door after he shut and locked it, unexpectedly surprising me.
His eyes seethed as he stared into my face. I inhaled sharply as John cupped my right breast and squeezed hard, making me yelp in pain. His eyes softened slightly and he grabbed the back of my neck, bringing me close.
“Why do you make me do these things to you?” He asked grittily.
My mouth gaped slightly and I furrowed my brows slightly. “I haven’t made you do anything. As much as I loathe to admit it, you’re the one in control. Does it make you feel like a man forcing a woman to do things she doesn’t want to only because she can’t defend herself?”
This was a mistake. The second it started spilling from my lips, I knew it was a mistake and he showed me why by slapping me harshly across the face. I brought my hand up to ease the sting. Tears burned behind my lids.
“I’m sorry, Harper,” he said, removing my hand and rubbing his thumb across the red mark he only just placed on my cheek. I was revolted by him. He caressed the side of my face with a tenderness that made me uneasy. “You told me you would cooperate.”
“I-I...” I began to stammer but he cut me off by squeezing my jaw roughly, the direct antithesis to his previous gentleness, giving me emotional whiplash. “A promise is a promise, bitch.”
I nodded, convinced I wasn’t going to live out the evening.
“I want to show you something first,” he said, pinching my upper arm between his meaty hand and squeezing hard, practically dragging me toward a waiting taxi. “Get in,” he ordered, shoving me into the backseat.
“Twelve-twenty-seven First,” he told the driver, making my throat run instantly dry. Ames’ address. John leaned into my ear, his hot breath against my neck. “I think you need a little reminder.”
He nestled me closely to his side and I gagged from the proximity. The driver was eyeing us strangely through the rear view. John suddenly leaned forward, banging his hand against the Plexiglas separation.
“Get a good look at my wife, old man?” He bellowed, making the man jump.
The man only steered his eyes toward the road, not looking at us once for the remainder of the trip.
“Get out,” John said, when we pulled up to a beautiful old building near the pier. He paid the driver and the man peeled away, desperate to get away from us. Thanks, old man.
Ames’ home looked exactly like he had described it in his letters. A five story building of old architecture. It reminded me a lot of our own building back home. Ames’ flat was on the second floor, right above a coffee shop. I stupidly wondered if the noise was tolerable during the day but was abruptly brought back to reality when John’s body ran flush against my back.
I sprinted for the front door, losing a heel as I threw myself up the steps to the building’s main door. The door was locked. I quickly found Ames’ buzzer, which wasn’t difficult as there were only ten names available, and pressed repeatedly until John caught up with me, slamming me into the door behind me. I hit the corner of my head, the sensitive part right above the hairline, making me feel dizzy.
“You stupid, bitch! Fine! You want to play this game! You got it. You’ve just made the biggest mistake.” He slammed me again, hard, against the door.
“Hello?” Callum answered through the intercom. I sucked in a harsh breath.
I opened my mouth to warn him but John clamped his hand over my mouth. I bit down on his hand but it did no good, he didn’t budge, only tightened his grip, painfully straining my jaw. I thrashed around as he waited for Callum to give up. “Hello?” He asked again. “Kids,” he muttered before breaking off the connection.