Beauty & The Biker (5 page)

“Can I make a call first?”

“Make it quick.”

I try Elsabeth to let her know my plans are now taking effect immediately but can’t reach her. I left her a voicemail telling her my employer had to leave town and needed me last minute and I will call when I get settled. If anything was up with our father she would call, wouldn’t she?

Just like I called her.
The thought crosses my mind but Tristian is tugging my arm and dragging me to his bike.

Chapter 5

Isabella

It crosses my mind that I didn’t hug my father when I last saw him. Panic bubbles in my chest as my body sticks to the leather on Tristian’s back. I had forgotten how far into the woods his home lies. Our town isn’t large but the county is huge. There are miles upon miles of nothing but uninhabited woodland. The trees wind around us as the road curves, going from pavement, to gravel, eventually turning to dirt.

I am officially in the middle of nowhere.  After miles of nothing, we finally reach our destination. Vandacamp Castle, now known as a mansion, comes into view. My pulse quickens with anxiety. It stands larger than I remembered and no picture I have seen has done it justice. All the curtains are drawn shut. I feel as though the house is screaming ‘Keep Out.’ The cold feeling of being unwelcome sweeps over me.

Tristian leaves me standing alone at the daunting front door, while he parks his motorcycle. Ominous, large, dark oak with a heavy brass knocker stands before me. I have this eerie feeling that someone or something is watching me from the other side of the door, waiting for me to enter. This place gives me the heebie jeebies.

A shiver runs through my bones, which is the oddest sensation paired with the summer heat. Tristian is pushing the heavy door open and ordering me to come inside. My steps falter as I cross the threshold and I nearly topple the two of us to the floor, but I manage to only take myself down. My nerves outweigh my wit right now.

“Not even here a minute and trying to jump my bones. I don’t fuck the help,” he says coldly leaving me in a heap on the cold stone floor. “Get up. I’ll give you the tour and show you to your room.”

He continues thumping his heavy boots across the floor. Getting, up I knock the dust from my clothing. Didn’t he say his housekeeper retired a few weeks ago. This place appears to have not seen a good scrub in months, maybe years, I think to myself as I notice the cobwebs covering the chandelier hanging high above my head. This isn’t a home; it is a deteriorating medieval tomb.

I walk along the worn, red rug that runs the length of the corridor Tristian disappeared down. Portraits of whom I assume to be his family, line the hall. The paintings are gilded in large, exquisite, golden frames that should belong in a museum.

I find Tristian waiting for me in the renovated kitchen; it looks newer than the rest of the rooms I have passed by. He shows me around the room quickly before taking me up narrow, winding, stone slab stairs. Lanterns light the way with the aid of a small window. This must be the interior of the tower.

The restorations to the place through the years must have cost a fortune. 

The upstairs is cleaner and nicer than the lower level.  The carpets are newer and the rooms appear untouched. He stops in the center of the hall. “This is the bathroom; it’s the only one upstairs. The warm water takes a few minutes to heat up, and the pressure is low, but it gets the job done.”

I peer inside, becoming perked up at the sight of the black claw foot tub. I go to tell Tristian I love his bathtub but he has disappeared from my side.

He is further down the hall standing outside of another door. This huge house is so quiet. I guess we are the only ones here. The article didn’t mention any other family. But I don’t detect anyone else as I pass by the closed doors.

“This is your room. You are next to me. My room is off limits and you are never to go inside it. Understand.”

How odd
. But whatever. “Sure, whatever you say.” I can respect his need for privacy.

“You won’t wear clothes like this any longer.” He jerks on my loose, blue frock dress. “Your new dress is on the bed. Change into it then meet me downstairs in the kitchen.” He doesn’t give me a chance to say anything, leaving me alone. His steps echo through the walls loudly.

I look down at my clothes. I don’t see anything wrong with the way I dress.

I feel out of place as I glance around the grand room.

My suite is fit for a queen. It’s beautiful. I’ve never seen such a large bed before. I run my hand over the large knob post of the footboard. Sheer curtains hang from the ceiling, drawn back at the headboard. The comforter is a gorgeous shade of periwinkle blue. Everything in here looks royal. And
way
more expensive than anything I have ever owned.

There is a dressing chair and small table next to the window by the fireplace. Fresh blue roses are displayed next to the bed on the nightstand.  Picking one out from the dozen, I prick my finger on the thorn. An image clouds my vision momentarily; a small pale hand is placing a blue rose in mine.

Blinking, my blood drops onto the blue rug. I hope it doesn’t stain.  I will never be able to afford to replace it.

Wrapping my finger with my other hand, I rush down the hall to the bathroom in search of a Band-Aid.  The medicine cabinet doesn’t have any so I settle for running cool water over it instead. That thorn was like a razor blade or a dagger.

I gaze longingly at the tub making plans to enjoy soaking in it once I have given it a good scrub. Lost in my daydreaming, I remember Tristian is waiting for me and scurry back down the hall.

Back in my room, I look at the dress Tristian wants me to wear. What an odd choice, it’s white, plain other than the eyelet lace trim. Pretty but not very practical for cleaning in. It looks a bit tighter than I normally wear. Closing the door, I strip out of my dress.

Digging around in my purse for a hair tie leaves me coming up empty. I walk over the vanity and see he has a brush for me, but no hair ties. I close my eyes as I brush through the tangles from the ride here.

This brush is awesome, much better than the one I had at home. I just hope no one else has used it, but it looks new enough to me. When I open my eyes, I am startled to see Tristian standing behind me, holding my dress. The stark contrast between us is impermeable. His tattoos come alive next to my untouched olive skin.

“You were taking too long.” He avoids my eyes as he brushes my dark hair away from my neck and slips the dress over my head. He doesn’t seem to notice I am practically standing here naked in my white lace bra and white cotton briefs.

It’s funny that I shouldn’t want him looking at me but the fact that he isn’t bothers me for some reason.

Mortified, I push my arms through the armholes and pull the rest of the fabric down over my body. The fact that it fits me perfectly strikes me as peculiar. How does he know my size?

I turn to slip my flats back on and he is already thundering down the stairs again. I get the feeling he knows so much more about me than I ever will of him.

It takes me three tries to find the kitchen. This place has so many corridors and wings I don’t know if I will ever find my way. I need a map.

I find Tristian waiting for me impatiently. He shoves me down into a chair telling me there are rules to my living here.

“Rule number one, I don’t like to be kept waiting. 

Rule number two, if you break my rules I will punish you as I see fit.

Rule number three, until your father’s debt is worked off you belong to me. I will take care of you as long as you do what I ask of you.”

“How much does he owe you? I…we never discussed that part.” I feel stupid, why didn’t I ask him something so important before agreeing to this. I am coming into this situation blind and with a stranger.

“Three year’s salary,” he says coolly.

Surely, he doesn’t expect me to live here for three years, as his maid.

“You have questions and I have answers but right now the dishes need washed.” He grabs my elbow and shoves me toward the sink.

I turn to tell him he doesn’t have to be such a jerk to me but he is already gone. How did I not hear him walk away?  I have a sinking feeling he finds pleasure in making me uncomfortable.

“Oh, gross!” I throw my hand over my nose and mouth trying to escape the putrid smell of a cup of spoiled milk sitting in the sink. I should have known he would have horrible habits. I rinse it out and sit it to the side on the counter.  I am going to have to clean the sink before I can even wash anything.

This is
disgusting
.

After ten minutes of scrubbing, I finally have the sink full of water and filthy dishware. Loud music blaring from down the hall causes me to nearly smash a plate. Doors keep opening and closing but I will not give into curiosity. I am sure that is what Tristian wants so he can embarrass me or something of the sort.

I wonder how many people live here...Do his biker friends stay here too? Is that who is making so much noise. I didn’t take so many things into account when I willingly climbed on the back of his motorcycle.

The refrigerator door closing snaps me from my thoughts.  I freeze unsure of whether or not I should turn around. I am sure if I do, Tristian will be standing there giving me a dirty look or waiting to pounce on me. I don’t know which version of him I am going to get.

“Got any wine coolers?” A shrewd female voice questions.

I spin around coming face to face with a crazy looking chick. Her hair is short and spiky, sticking up all over and it is blonde with pink and purple tips.

“I’m not sure,” I answer honestly. I don’t even know where to put the dishes once they are dry.

“Then get some from the cellar,” she barks at me. I don’t appreciate her snappy tone. Who does she think she is?

“Okay, where is the cellar?”

“Are you stupid or something?” She snorts as Tristian joins us.

“Fuck off Rain,” he dismisses her. She rolls her eyes at me then kisses his cheek.

“Get me some wine baby,” she coos.

Baby? So that’s what he likes. Figures. I roll my eyes, irritated. Is she his girlfriend?

I steal a glance at Tristian.

He looks pissed at her term of endearment though. His jaw is tight, his eyes dark, and narrowed on me. Maybe he is indifferent with everyone and not just me.

“Who is this chick?” She questions her eyes darting between us.

“The new maid. Come on, I’ll show you the cellar.” He brushes her away and steps around me.

I follow behind him hoping Rain isn’t coming with us. I don’t like her already. I hope she isn’t his live-in-girlfriend.  A brief glance over my shoulder confirms it is just the two of us as he leads me down narrow stairs. The air gets cooler the further down we go. Chill bumps spread over my arms and I shiver at the temperature change.

“Having a party?”

“Not really,” is the only explanation he offers. He flicks on a dim light, exposing the stonewalls and cold stone floor.

My feet are already hurting from the hard floors.

Looking around I imagine this used to be the dungeon entrance, by the look of the iron doors that appear to lead to another corridor. This front room serves as a storage room. There is a whole wall of nothing but wine racks.

“You like wine?” He is actually asking me a normal question.

“Not really. I don’t care much for it. My brother-in-law, Felix, would give me a beer sometimes at cookouts. I like beer.”

My answer takes him off guard. His tattooed mouth curves upward into a half-smile. It is somewhat adorable. It feels weird thinking it, considering he has his face tattooed to mirror a corpse or something.

“Do you want a beer?” he asks selecting a bottle of wine.

“Maybe some other time. I’m kinda tired. Didn’t sleep good last night. I thought I might take a dip in your tub.”

“Yeah, sure. Make yourself at home Isabella, just remember my rules. I doubt you’ll get much sleep tonight.” He grimaces. I’m not sure if it is meant as an apology or a warning.

Chapter 6

Isabella

I am unable to enjoy soaking in the old timey tub thanks to all the racket coming from downstairs. It sounds as though they are swinging from the chandeliers. I am pretty sure I heard glass being smashed too. Doors are slammed and screaming shouts seem to travel up the stairs and are growing closer to where I am. I can’t make out what is said. Another door slams and I scurry from the tub, ready to retreat to the safety of my room. I wrap a towel around my body and check the cabinet for a toothbrush but there is just the one. Something tells me it belongs to Tristian, or at least I hope it does. A small thrill shoots through me. I squeeze the Sensodyne onto the bristles and brush my teeth, knowing my using his toothbrush will piss him off.

As I am rinsing my mouth, a loud knock taps on the bathroom door. Forgetting I am still in my towel and no longer in the comfort of my own home, I call out, “it’s open.”

Tristian steps in quietly, closing the door behind him. He holds up a brand new toothbrush still in the package. “Thought you might need this.”

“That’s okay I just used yours.” I saunter by him as the angry scowl spreads over his wicked mouth.

I don’t make it one step out the door when he grabs my arm. I’m not even sure why I like setting him off but I can’t stop myself.

He raises his brow. “Did you enjoy the taste of my mouth Isa?”

I ignore his question responding with my own teasing remark, “I haven’t decided, but you let me know how you enjoy the taste of my tongue on your brush, the next time you use it.”

“Don’t toy with me,” he warns sending a cheap thrill though me.

I can’t seem to stop myself with him. It’s so unlike me.

“Do I have anything to sleep in or should I just sleep naked?” I smile at him, pushing him further as his grip tightens on my arm.

“I wouldn’t suggest it, with my brothers in the house. They tend to wonder the halls at night. If they were to come into your room and find you naked, they might take advantage of the situation. They tend to take what they want and ask questions later,” he warns sounding alarm bells in my head.

I jerk my arm and my towel slips exposing the top of my breasts. If Tristian notices, he doesn’t show it. His eyes are on mine. They aren’t as dark as I thought. They are more of a deep blue. His tattoos make them appear darker. But under the glow of the light, I can see them in contrast with the pale bone color his face is shaded.

“Lock your door tonight Isabella,” he demands, his voice hoarse as he dips his head.

His smooth fingers stroke my cheek as though he might try to kiss me. I lick my bottom lip unsure if I want him to. As much as he gets under my skin, I feel a weird connection to him. I feel as if somehow, I know him even though I know that isn’t possible. But there is something familiar and haunting in his eyes.

His breath tickles the tip of my nose as he lets out a sharp exhale. I wait for him to give in to temptation and claim my mouth. The seconds tick by and nothing.

His lips never touch mine. He pulls his face away from mine. I guess he did notice my towel. He pulls up on the center covering the bit of flesh that was exposed. “I told you I would provide what you need. There are clothes in your dresser and your wardrobe. Goodnight Isa,” his tongue caresses the A in that intimate way once more, making me feel that familiar pang.  He kisses my forehead with a quick peck.

“Goodnight Tris,” I reply softly and I could swear his step falters when he hears me call him Tris, as he leaves me standing alone in the hall.

The first thing I do when I get back in my room is lock the door. I am not taking any chances.  Just as he said, the dresser and wardrobe are fully stocked with anything I might need, but no panties. I pull out a pair of cotton pajama pants and a matching tank top and slip them on. I use the towel I had wrapped around my body to squeeze the water from the ends of my hair that got wet during my brief bath.

I peel back the blanket and sheets, crawling into the bed, but not until after I’ve managed to stub my toe once I turned out the light. This will take some getting used to. I feel restless as I try to find the right spot. At home, my mattress dips in the right places. It isn’t too firm or too soft. This mattress feels stiff and new. Did he get all of this new for me...the bed, the clothes...?

I flop and roll from one side to the next, settling on the middle. Once I am finally comfortable, the loud music has stopped and the house is quiet other than the strange noises all houses seem to make in the night. My stomach growls and I am back to tossing and turning. 

My stomach continues to protest my desire to sleep. Now I am debating fighting my hunger or chancing sneaking into the kitchen. Throwing the covers back, I give in. I pad across my floor quietly hoping I don’t hit my toe on anything else. Peering my head out the door once I have unlocked it I sense the coast is clear. Not that I think Tristian would care for me eating, but I don’t want to run into his brothers as he called them.

I hope I don’t get lost either.

Fortunately, I manage to make it to the kitchen without bumping into unwanted company.  I scour the fridge settling on a ham sandwich.

I am sitting on the counter with my legs dangling towards the floor enjoying my fill when I get the feeling of being watched. Rain.

“Don’t think he will keep you around for long. I know what a girl like you wants with Tris, but it won’t happen. You just think because you are pretty and all the things a man should want, that he will fall for you and you won’t have to work. You think he’ll take care of you.” She snorts. “Don’t fool yourself. Many have tried and failed.”

Like you
, I think to myself, remembering how he reacted to her affection earlier. I swallow my bite and take a drink of my milk. “I don’t think anything about Tristian; I don’t expect anything from him. It isn’t like that,” I defend.

She comes close getting in my face. “Keep telling yourself that.” She yanks on my hair harshly in a threatening manner before walking down the hall.

I try to ignore her accusation. If she only knew how far from the truth she is. I’m here because I have to be. I don’t want anything from Tristian other than him leaving my Papi alone. I know what men like Tris do to men like my father who can’t pay. They hurt those they love most, if they don’t kill them first. I’m not oblivious to the facts just because he intrigues me and draws me dangerously near.

I finish my sandwich without further interruption other than my wondering who, or what, Rain is to Tristian.

Somehow, once I leave the kitchen I end up walking down an unfamiliar hall. I can see the faint glow of a TV screen coming from one of the rooms. I draw near the door hearing the low murmur of whispers, unsure if they are from the television or someone watching it. I peek around the door frame seeing Rain curled up on a sofa watching a movie with Tristian. He seems so relaxed with her unlike earlier. They are sharing popcorn and laughing. Her head is on his shoulder and I don’t like it. It shouldn’t bother me. I don’t even know him but them being so friendly and familiar with one another angers me. I feel jealous. I don’t want her hands on him and I don’t want him smiling at her. Tristian’s head swings toward my direction and I hurry back the way I came, not wanting him to catch me spying on him.

Three wrong turns later, I am back in the comfort of my new room. All night I keep having vague dreams of Tristian and what I imagined as our almost kiss. When I awaken, I swear I can feel the shadow of his mouth on mine. But when I open my eyes, I am alone.

I’m not ready to get out of bed but my body isn’t going to let me sleep in any longer.  The sun is shining through hitting the blue roses, beautiful. I don’t remember opening the curtains though.

Stretching and groaning I climb out of the massive bed. I can’t believe I didn’t notice it last night, but I was focused on pajamas, the entire wardrobe is filled with replicas of the same white dress from yesterday. I guess I am to wear this every day. No bras or panties either. That isn’t going to work. No way no how.

I change into another white dress and go to the bathroom in search of my bra and panties from yesterday, determined to wash them and wear them, but they aren’t there.

Great
! Looks like I will have to ask Tristian for them, but I guess I could ask Elsabeth to bring me mine from home. If she will make the trip. I am in the boonies.  But then again, I don’t want my family knowing my real location.

Back in my room, I dig through my bag in search of my cellphone and it’s missing. Did Tristian confiscate my phone too? I need to check in and see how Papi is doing. I need to know Ariala is doing what is right for once.

Angry about my missing belongings, I march to his room and slap my palm against the heavy door.

“Open up bucko,” I bark.

Nothing.

I try again, nothing. He must already be up or he hasn’t gone to bed. My mind flashes to him sleeping on the sofa downstairs with his
whatever
she is…I smack my palm against his door, this time in anger.

After searching the kitchen, I find Tristian sitting in an expansive library. It’s huge with floor to ceiling shelving full of books. It’s beautiful. I could get lost in here for hours escaping between the pages.

“Sleep well Isabella?” He is cocked back in his leather chair at the head of his desk, feeling powerful and in control of me. He’s reading. I glance at the spine and he is reading Stephen King. Interesting. He doesn’t strike me as the reading type.

“Like a kitten.” If he wants to play games. I’ll play.

Walking over to his large desk I take a seat on the edge and prop my foot on the arm of his chair fully aware I’m not wearing panties. Let’s see if he notices me now. My bare bottom is hanging over the edge and I can see he is using restraint not to look. His jaw is clenched, his mouth set in a hard line. I watch him struggling; I am smiling on the inside. So, he
does
see me. He chews on the inside of his mouth, I can see his muscles flex as he bites down hard on his inner jaw, choosing his words carefully.

“Hungry, I can cook you something,” I offer smiling broadly, leaning back on my elbows. 

He shuts his book and lays it next to me. “Already ate,” he answers with no emotion. He is trying to brush me off.

Not happening.

“Tristian,” I purr out his name. “Have you seen my panties, a draft keeps breezing up my skirt.” I gather the hem in my fist, my hand resting on my smooth tan thigh, daring to flash him. This behavior is so unlike me, but Tristian makes me this way. He makes me feel bold, daring—
ALIVE
.

He knocks my foot from his chair, like a pest. He sits up and grabs my wrist, getting so close to my face. I could lick the side of his face. I wonder if his skin tastes of ink.

“Personal comforts are a privilege. You have to earn them, princess.”

“So, my phone?”

“I have it.” He brushes his thumb along my thigh, stroking. “Prove yourself a worthy pet, and I will reward you,” he tells me as his thumb grows dangerously close to my intimate zone.

A man has never had his hands on me in this manner before. My breathing hitches, becoming erratic, enjoying the way his touch feels.

“Be a good pet and I will be a good master.” His touch disappears but I can still feel his warmth tracing over my skin.

I guess I should have known a man like him thrives on control. This is just a game to him. All of it.

“I’m not a pet Tristian, I am a person. I expect to be treated like one.”

He grabs my hair, leaning into my personal space. “You belong to me Isa. I own you. If you expect anything more from me, you will find yourself sadly mistaken.”

He pulls me from his desk by my hair and drags me down the hallway roughly, cursing incoherently under his breath.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t—please,” I beg.

He says nothing in return and jerks me in front of him holding my elbows and shoving me down the cold steps to the cellar.

“I told you if you behave, I’ll be good to you, but you want to run your mouth. Now you can run it down here where no one can hear you.”

“I’m sorry, I’ll be good Tristian. Please don’t leave me down here. I’m scared of the dark. I suffer horrible panic attacks.” I can’t stop my tears as they stream down my cheeks.

I have given myself freely to a monster. I don’t know why I thought he was different then what people say. He has a bad reputation for a reason. I need to keep that in mind next time he tries to touch me.

“I will come for you when I think you are ready to behave. And while you are down here maybe you will remember something important.”

He shoves me roughly through the iron door I saw the night before. It’s cold, dark, and lonely. He closes the door to my cell and locks it without another word or glance in my direction.

I curl into myself on the floor and sob, praying I can escape this hell of my own making. I can hear him laughing at me as he walks upstairs.

What kind of man treats a human being this way? A few stolen touches and I was falling for him and playing right into his hands. He is a beast from hell. The monster you were warned about as child. The kind of vile creature, who thrives on fear, lurking in the shadows of your closet and hiding under your bed. He is the kind of man who will take a man’s daughter and use her against him.