Buttons and Lace (Buttons 1)

I think something good happened tonight. I think I said the right thing to make him look at me differently. Maybe my hunger for power and my false respect for him changed his opinion of me.

Or maybe he was even more pissed off.

Maybe he planned to take me somewhere horrible the following day. Maybe he planned to take me to work so he could screw me in front of all his employees in the center of the room.

Maybe he planned to kill me and leave my body somewhere.

And then he’d take one of my bones to keep.

Ugh. So disgusting.

The following morning, one of his many servants arrived at my door with an outfit. It was a long-sleeve black dress, heels, and a thick winter coat. “His Grace would like you to be ready to leave in one hour.”

His Grace? They actually called him that? “Okay. Thanks.”

He walked out.

I looked at the outfit Bones bought for me and tried to figure out what we were doing. It came with a coat, so that meant we were going outside.

Outside.

I had a chance to escape. If the chance became available, I was sure as hell gonna take it. Even if he put a bullet in my head, I would have no regrets. I’d rather die trying to escape than sit in this hellhole.

The dress was sleek and thick enough to keep me warm despite the winter chill. The heels weren’t appropriate for outside weather. Maybe we weren’t going outside after all. Maybe we were just going from one building to the next.

I got ready and tried to make myself as attractive as possible. I didn’t want to look sexy—but beautiful. Maybe he would come to respect me if I showed myself off in the right way. He might see me as a partner rather than a pocket pussy.

I met him downstairs near the entrance, the fur coat keeping me warm in the already heated house. He came down the staircase a moment later, wearing the exact same suit I always saw him wear. He never deviated from his wardrobe. It was always a black suit with a black collared shirt underneath. A gray tie was the only contrast in his usual attire.

I tried to keep my face between a mixture of hatred and respect. If I blew too much smoke up his ass, he would know I was full of shit.

He came to my side then grabbed his jacket from the coat rack. He was young to be so wealthy, probably around forty. There didn’t seem to be a wife or kids in the picture. But that was a good thing. Who would want to be part of this—voluntarily? “Are you ready?”

He never asked me questions. He just told me what to do. “I am.” He suddenly grabbed me by the chin and directed my stare on his cold eyes. His fingers gripped me tightly, reminding me just how brutal he was. In the past six days, I’d been given a break from his evilness. But now I remembered it was just as paramount as ever. “If you run, I’ll fuck you so hard you’ll wish you were dead.”

The threat shivered down my spine and made my body cold. I tried not to be afraid of anything, but that statement terrified me. I understood what it was like to be fucked so hard you actually bled. I knew it all too well. I nodded, moving his fingers with my face. “No running.”

He pulled my face to his and gave me a hard kiss on the mouth. It was forceful enough to bruise me. He quickly pulled away then stepped out the front door.

He’d never kissed me before—even in a violent way. Hopefully that counted for something.

***

We sat on opposite ends of the car.

Bones didn’t wear his safety belt when he went places. It was one habit I picked up on. He either thought he was invincible or was prepared to jump out of the car at any instant.

I watched the building pass as we drove into the city. I tried to read the signs and labels I saw everywhere, in an attempt to figure out where I was. I didn’t see the harm in asking. He allowed me to leave the house so the circumstance should permit it. “Where do we live?” I worded my question carefully so I would stroke his ego rather than agitate it.

“Alessandria.” His eyes were glued to the road.

That didn’t help me. “France?”

“Italy. But we’re close to France.”

I wished I had a map to determine where I was. I didn’t even know where the embassy was. I doubted there were several of them. There was probably just one in a major tourist area. “When I was on the cargo ship on the way here from America, I killed that man with a gun. I didn’t feel bad for doing it. There was no guilt or remorse. And when I actually enjoyed it, I realized there was something wrong with me.”