Eternally Seduced (88 page)

He said quietly, “Yes.”

It would be all right
, he told himself. If his parents had agreed to a similar contract, then there was no reason why something similar would be wrong between them.

“This is such a strange place,” she told him the next day as he took her out to dinner. The restaurant was beautiful but dimly lit and only had a few tables scattered around the room. There was an ocean of space between each table, making her wonder if the people here had antisocial disorders.

“Is this a place for nobility?”

Actually, it was a place for men like him and mistresses like her but he did not think she needed to know that. He helped her to her seat before taking the seat across her. “Why do you ask that?”

“Because I feel like only dukes like you need this much space from regular people like me.”

He said dryly, “You know you just said in a roundabout way that I’m a snob, don’t you?”

She quickly hid herself behind the huge menu. “Mm…what’s good in this place?” A hand touched her knee under the table and she jerked in her seat, her knees moving up and causing the entire table to rattle.

“Rathe!”

“Snobs surely don’t do that…or this…” His fingers crept up.

She quickly clamped her hand over his. “I’m sorry. I take it back.”

He smiled. “Are you sure you want to take it back?”

When he put it that way, Mary was torn. “Umm…”

Laughing, he said, “Later.”

They enjoyed their dinner leisurely, Mary relaxing after a few minutes when she realized that no one in this place truly cared about them.
What a strange, strange place this was
, Mary thought. But if it meant enjoying privacy when dining out, she didn’t care how strange it was. She loved it.

As their plates were taken away in preparation for their dessert, Rathe said, “I have something for you to consider.”

Oh my God, something to consider…

Was that the ducal way of saying he was about to propose?

She cleared her throat. “Go on.” Did that pass as a future duchess’ way of saying she was so going to say yes if he proposed? The thought that she was too young and he was too old didn’t even cross her mind.

“Here.”

She looked at him, expecting a tiny box but instead what she got was…a manila envelope? Confused, she opened the envelope and took out a sheaf of papers. She paled, realizing what it was.

“A contract,” she said dully.

“Yes. For formalities sake.”

She tried to be reasonable about it, doing her best to keep her fingers from shaking as she went through it, page after page, her eyes getting blurry as she reached the end.

In case of separation…

In case of infidelity…

In case of financial monies owed by the contracted partner…

All of it amounted to the same thing. That Rathe, the Duke of Wellesley, had the right to treat her like a whore, to cheat on her, to make a fool out of her but as the mistress, she only had the right to spread her legs for him.

“Did you read this?”

“Yes,” he lied. He had not been able to, but if it was what his parents had signed, then it should be good enough.

Her heart shattered at Rathe’s answer. He had truly read this? And he still presented it to her? “Why?” she whispered. “Why would you do this to me?”

He hated how defensive she made him feel, knowing that he was not doing anything wrong. He felt guilty and he despised himself for being so weak. He was not in the wrong here. She was the one who was wrong, the way she was being overly sensitive.

His cold ducal mask had slipped into place, and the Rathe Wellesley she loved was no more. “Shouldn’t the question be the other way around, Mary? Why would you
not
do this for me?”

“Because it’s not how love works.”

He hissed, “Stop looking at me like I betrayed you.”

She didn’t speak, only continuing to look at him like he was the worst scum on earth.

“If you love me, you will do this for me.”

Mary said numbly, “You don’t want me to love you. You want to own me. I’m not even a person…” She broke off, unable to believe that everything she believed in – that everything she had hoped for them was just an illusion. “I have to go.”

That tight feeling in his chest disappeared, to be replaced by something fiery and wild, something that tasted like…panic.

She was on her feet now.

“If you leave, don’t expect me to run after you.”

“I don’t expect anything anymore, Rathe.” But she didn’t leave right away, hoping and waiting that he would tell her he was wrong. She would swallow any excuse---

His tone was icy when he asked, “Why are you still here?”

With a choked cry, she left.

He stayed there for a long time, unable to accept that Mary was indeed gone. He looked down at the papers he had asked her to sign. Had he been so wrong about her? Was he different from his mother? Was he truly the pedophile and not his father, and he had just been conned by a gold-digging Lolita of his own making?

He took the papers and read it, needing to know what had made Mary change her mind and reveal her true self.

The first few lines were standard, followed by---

Bloody fuck.

How could his mother have signed something this vile? And how the bloody hell could he have been so stupid to make Mary sign a contract that demanded she proudly call herself not as a mistress but a whore?

****

With nowhere to go, Mary found herself going back to her dorm room, where her piranha still resided while its custom-designed aquarium was being built.

She always had a spare key hidden in the hallway and she took it, hoping to God that she would not chance upon Camille using it as a spare room for playing with her boyfriends.

She stumbled inside and locked the door. Her room was dark and vacant, with a slightly musty scent to it. She supposed the caretaker for her piranha didn’t consider cleaning the room a part of his job. Her piranha was still awake.

“Hey.”

It chomped its jaws.

At least some things didn’t change. She really should have played it safe and stuck to her piranha.

A few miles away, the computer that the spy cam was attached to started to beat, indicating that its motion sensors had detected movement. The sound woke Bartholomew up, who had been holed up all this time in the basement of an old friend who owed him money. His wife, the prostitute-turned-junkie, was upstairs, snoring next to her latest client.

He hurried to his computer, typing furiously to access the camera. He had recently paid someone to break into the room to replace the camera’s battery, knowing there was a chance Mary would come back to it.

Now that she had, it was his time to make a move…for good.

He drove beyond the speed limits and parked a good distance away from the school. Security had gotten lax with him never making an appearance, although Bartholomew knew that the manhunt for him still continued.

It took almost half an hour before he was able to cross the yard and break into the dorm, smashing the pane of glass of the door to reach its knob. Inside, the startled resident head dropped the glass of milk she was holding. He moved fast, knocking her out with one hit to her head. She fell to the floor.

This time, he would not be denied saving his stepdaughter. This time, whatever happened he would save her from herself, like a good father would.

Using his duplicate, he unlocked the door as quietly as he could and locked it behind him. He must have made a sound because Mary rose from the bed. “Who is it?”

He didn’t answer.

He didn’t have to. A second later, she started to scream but again she was too late, Bartholomew lunging for her.

Something flashed in the dark.

A knife.

And he pressed it to her throat. “You know what you shouldn’t do, don’t you?”

She almost nodded and if she had, the blade would have cut through her skin. She choked out, “Yes.”

“Now, be a good girl and take off your clothes.” His teeth gleamed in the dark as he grinned. “I’ll enjoy the show and after that, I’ll save your soul as any good father would.”

****

He called her but she didn’t answer. He even called Camille, but she too was unavailable. Where would she go? She had no family. Saffi wasn’t around. She only had---

Her piranha.

Knowing Mary, she probably considered that her family and would have gone to it if she felt…alone. He drove to her university, feeling like something was about to go wrong. On his way, he called for the police. He didn’t give a fuck if it was a false alarm. He would gladly pay the penalty. But if it wasn’t a false alarm---

His heart nearly exploded at the fear that tried to strangle it.

Please God, let her be all right.

Rathe drove his car to a screeching stop in front of her dorm and jumped out of his car, not bothering to switch the engine off. The sight of the shattered glass and the unconscious resident head had him sprinting up the stairs. Please God, let her be all right---

He burst through the door.

There was blood everywhere.

No.

“Rathe?”

The tiniest sound.

He looked up, unable to breathe, wondering what he would do if it was an apparition. If it was, it didn’t matter. He realized now that he needed her too much and that without her – he might as well have existed in the dark.

It was her, and she was shaking so badly.

He switched the light on.

Bloody hell.

The corpse of Bartholomew Grenville was on the ground, his head half torn off and with chunks of flesh missing. Inside the aquarium floated a half-chewed ear.

“God, Mary.” He stepped towards her but she stepped back, her eyes wide with fear.

“I’m not going to hurt you---”

“I don’t want you involved,” she sobbed.

He started breathing again, knowing now that it wasn’t because she hated or feared him that she wanted to be away from Rathe. “The fuck I’m not going to be involved.” In one stride, he was next to her and she was in his arms, sobbing against his chest.

Soon, the sirens of police cars reached them but they stayed together.

“My piranha isn’t a vegetarian.”

Bloody hell.

She was the only girl who could say something like that at this moment.

He looked down at her, intending to make a joke but instead he turned white because he realized that she was too pale and obviously in shock. “Mary?”

Her dazed eyes went to him. “And I’m not your mistress, am I?”

His heart broke. “Mary, I---”

“I’m your whore, right?”