Wild Thing (Naughty Things 3)

“Not normal how?” He asks.

“I don’t really know. He just left one day when I was little and never came back. Then this apartment turned up out of nowhere after my mom died and I graduated from college.”

It’s not entirely true. I know what happened to my real father. My stepfather told me that story often enough when I was small. Trying to make a point I guess. That he left. He chose to leave me and my mother behind. And that my stepfather was in control of my life now, the same way he was in control of my mother’s.

But it’s not a story you tell people. Not even a guy like Mason.

“You never tried to contact him? And he never tried to contact you?”

But I can see he’s not going to let this go. So I have to tell him some of it.

“No,” I say. “He didn’t come to my mother’s funeral. He’s not even on my birth certificate anymore because it was changed after the adoption. And that happened back when I was seven, and by that time… I don’t know how to explain it. I was just… Lyssa Baylor. I don’t even remember my first last name. And no one will tell me now.”

That part is true. I really don’t know who he is. I can’t even remember his face. My stepfather got rid of all my mother’s photos of him.

“Hmmm,” Mason says. “But he must be somebody important if he and your mother put together such an extravagant gift as this?”

“You’d think,” I say. “But… I doubt it.”

I spot the doorman as we approach and smile, ready to say hi, but he’s busy with another tenant and doesn’t see me. Inside everyone is busy so even though I’m polite to everyone here and normally say hello, I don’t get a chance.

Mason follows my lead, still holding my hand, as we walk to the elevator. Inside, when the doors open, I scowl at the elevator attendant. “Who are you?”

“Charles, ma’am. And you are?” He gives me a tight smile. “I’m new here.”

“Lyssa Baylor.”

“Ah, top floor it is,” he says, entering a key card and pushing the button for my apartment.

I glance at Mason and sigh. He raises his eyebrows at me and smiles. Be patient, that smile says. New guy.

Fine.

But I know these building people. They are like friends and I had to walk in like a nobody. It kinda kills my good mood.

The elevator doesn’t open up into my apartment, thank God. That’s always freaked me out. So we get off in the hallway outside the double doors of my apartment and I punch in the security code to unlock it.

The lock beeps green and Mason opens the door wide and waves me forward in front of him like a gentleman.

A loud noise fills my ears and then everything happens in slow motion.

Mason’s body jerks back and falls to the floor.

I scream, and someone grabs me, putting a hand around my mouth. I kick, and fight, and elbow them in the ribs.

But there’s another man and then another and another. And three large blocks of pure muscle wrestle me to the ground and stick something sharp into my upper arm. It burns.

I bite the hand covering my mouth, still kicking, and writhing, then scream when he pulls it off my face.

But they flip me over, face down, and I have to turn my head so I don’t smash my nose into the cold, stone floor.

My stepfather stands off to the side, hands behind his back, rocking on his heels like this is just another day. Just another fight with Lyssa. Just one of many.

“Be a good girl now, Lyssie. It’s OK. I’m going to take you home now.”

I breathe hard, screaming curses at him. “You asshole! You fucking asshole! What did you do?”

One man places a knee on my back, forcing all the air out of my lungs, and I feel like I’m going to suffocate. They hold me like that for several minutes as I writhe and fight.

“You will marry Dickerson Worthington, Lyssie. It’s all set up. And you will live in that house as his wife. You will be the woman I’ve spent all these years turning you in to.”

“You’re sick,” I say. “You’re so sick.”

“No, sweetie. It’s you who’s sick. But don’t worry, we’re going to take care of you. We’re going to make sure everyone knows how sick you are and get you the help you need.”

I look at Mason, collapsed on the floor next to me. “What did you do?” I scream. But it’s weak. I can barely breathe.

“He overstepped and filled your head with delusions.” My stepfather tsks his tongue. “It’s a good thing I had people watching the house. Just forget about him now. I’ll take care of everything and no one will know what happened here but us.”