He's Captured My Trust (Captured Series Book 2) (8 page)

I TURN AND OPEN THE
door. He is the last person I expect to see, with that dirty, smug look on his face. The smell hits me—booze. He stinks of it, and my stomach turns. He pushes me further into the room.

“Well, Elizabeth.” His voice is harsh. “I think you were rather rude at the table. Manners are everything. Didn’t Daddy Dearest teach you anything?” Jeff takes a step through the door. “You are mine . . .” He moves further into the store, letting the door close behind him. He is scaring me.

“What is it you want, Jeff?”

“What do I want? Oh, my dearest Elizabeth, I thought that was obvious.” His voice is softer. He lets his fingers slide across my face. It feels wrong. It makes me feel dirty. “I want you. As I said, you are mine.”

“Do you think you’re his?” he hisses through gritted teeth. “You’re just his latest plaything. Do you really think he wants you? Look at you. He can have anyone he wants. Why would he possibly choose you?”

“Elizabeth, I want you,” he says quietly, moving closer to me. “That hasn’t changed in the last few months. I love you, and I know you still love me.”

I flinch.

“And you think he could love you?” he asks, his voice rising. “Do you love him? He’s using you, and so is Daddy Dearest. When are you going to get that through that thick skull of yours? Have a good look about you.”

He grabs me roughly by the wrist as I move, stopping me from making contact with his face. His hand is tight. I pull against it, but as I do, his hold gets tighter. I can’t believe I’m stuck here with him.

“You stupid bitch!” he shouts as his other hand makes contact with the side of my face. He pushes me, and my back hits the metal shelving behind me. “You didn’t answer the fucking question. Do you think he could ever love you the way I do? I think we should have some fun together, for old times’ sake. Stop fighting me.”

I slump in defeat. All the fighting in the world is not going to help me. He releases his hold of me and runs his fingers down my cheek, brushing them along my lips. Then suddenly his lips are on mine, crushing me. I feel the bile rising from the back of my throat.
Dear God, I think I’m going to be sick
. The smell of alcohol is turning my stomach. His fingers trail down my face and neck and pause on my breast.

No, his intentions are very clear. I can’t let him do this. I push and pull against him. I feel his teeth bite on my bottom lip, and then I taste my own blood. He takes a step back and draws his hand, slapping my face again.

“You know you and I belong together,” he says. “We can be so happy, if you let us.”

He draws his hand back again, but instead of a slap, he clenches his fist. The punch lands right in my stomach, winding me and sending me flying across the storeroom. Before I hit the floor, my back hits something sharp.

Pain and wetness are all I feel.

He loosens the belt on his trousers. I whimper. Maybe I should just stop fighting it. I close my eyes. He pulls at my jacket. I just want this over with.

“Shut up, you stupid bitch,” he shouts as he slaps me across the face again.

“Libby—”

“Please!” I scream. Tight hands hold my arms. I open my eyes. It’s still hazy. But it was just a dream. Another dream.

“Libby, baby, you’re trembling. Come here. It’s okay. I’m here. I promise I won’t let anything happen to you.”

Alex takes me in his arms and rocks me gently. I can’t stop shaking, and the tears fall uncontrollably. It’s been the same every night since Alex left the UK after his visit four weeks ago. I thought it might be different because I was here with him. But no, all I see in my nightmare is Jeff and the terrible things he did that day, although in my dream it seems much worse because there is no one to rescue me.

I take comfort in Alex’s arms holding me, rocking me, soothing me back to the present. My tears have dried, and my shaking is under control when I notice that he is fully dressed.

“Libby, can we talk about it? I want to help.”

“I’m fine. It’s just a dream—a nightmare—whatever you want to call it.” I turn to face him and sadness washes over his beautiful face. “Seriously, I’m fine. I just need a minute.”

“How long has this been going on?” The concern in his voice is evident.

“A few weeks.”

“Shit, Libby, why would you not tell me about this?”

“What could you do?”

“I could have been there for you,” he says hoarsely as he tries to clear his throat. “I would have come to you if I had known.”

“You are going to have to face facts.
You can’t always be there for me.
”

“I want to always be there for you.”

“Don’t you have somewhere you should be?” I ask with a heavy heart because I know how this conversation is going to end. It’s not a conversation I want for this weekend.

“Yes, I do, but I would rather make sure you’re okay. Tell me what it was about.”

“Jeff—the day at the hotel,” I say, sighing. “Look, Alex, you can see I’m fine. Go to work. I’m going to take a shower and then eat. So go away before I decide that I’m not letting you leave me.” I try teasing him before giving him a soft kiss on the lips.

“Okay, okay, I’ll go. But how about you come by the office at one? I should be finished by then, and we can have a light lunch together. If you’re finished shopping by then? I know what you women can be like when you go shopping.” He teases.

“But I have no idea where to go.”

“You think I’m going to leave you to your own devices in New York? No, you’ll have Murphy all day. He’s taking me to work and then collecting my mother and coming back here for you. I’m sure my mom will have worked out exactly where you’re going.”

“Thank you. Do I have time for a shower and breakfast, before your mum gets here?”

“Yes, if you can get your ass out of bed.” The grin on his face makes my heart skip a beat, and if I wasn’t already sitting down, I’d probably fall.

“Okay,” I answer as he playfully pulls the covers off me.
Oh, if only he weren’t dressed . . . this would have great possibilities.
The feelings I have for him run so much deeper than I could ever imagine. I crave the physical contact between us. I can’t get enough of him. But it’s not only that. No, I learned so much about him through our conversations over the last few weeks.

As I swing my legs off the bed, Alex takes my hands and pulls me to my feet. My eyes drift over him from head to toe, and then back again. He’s breathtaking, immaculately dressed for his business meeting.

I know that look on his face. It’s the look that can bring me to my knees, seduce me without his touch. I draw in a slow breath. Amused, he watches me.

“Alex, go to work, please . . .”

He leans forward and seals his mouth over mine with a deep, passionate, warm kiss that leaves me wanting more.

“Right. I’m going. Joan will make you some breakfast when you’re ready. It has been noted that you’ve been rummaging around my closet. Till lunchtime.”

I laugh.

He smiles. Reluctantly, he lets go of my hands and walks out of the room, leaving me to my own thoughts.

A SHORT WHILE, LATER I
am showered and dressed, my hair and makeup done, and I enter the kitchen feeling more like myself. I find Joan at the sink, clearing away the dishes from last night and from Alex’s breakfast.

“Good morning, Miss Stewart. What can I make you?” Her warm smile puts me at ease. “Mr. Mathews said you weren’t feeling too good. Do you need painkillers?”

“No thank you, Joan. I’m fine. I just had a bad dream. I’m more than happy to fend for myself.”

“You will do no such thing,” she says, ushering me to the breakfast bar. “Sit down and relax. Mr. Mathews wouldn’t be happy. Now, what would you like?”

“Some toast and fruit juice is fine.”

“Mr. Mathews left instructions for me to feed you,” she says, opening the fridge for some juice.

“Toast is plenty for me now. And anyway, he wants me to meet him for lunch, and we’ll have dinner here tonight.”

“Oh, that reminds me. Anything you don’t like before I make a start on that?”

“Nope. I’ll eat anything. Do you need a hand preparing?” I don’t want to sit about doing nothing while she works.

“No, I’m fine. Mr. Mathews doesn’t usually do any entertaining, so it makes a pleasant change to be able to use my skills,” she replies with a smile as she continues to work away in the kitchen. “And Mrs. Mathews should be here soon.” She hands me some toast.

I sit eating and chatting away with Joan as she goes about her work. She already has a huge pot of tomato-and-pepper soup simmering on the stove. It smells so good. She tells me she’ll make some homemade bread rolls later on. The main course is beef wellington with potatoes and vegetables, and she’s going to make cheesecake for dessert. Sounds great—it has my mouth watering. Maybe I will put on at least some of the weight I’ve lost.

“Elizabeth, let’s have a look at you.” Sarah’s voice is loud as she enters the kitchen with Murphy at her back. I stand up from the chair and turn to face her as she gives me a hug. “Absolutely stunning. I knew there was a beautiful girl under all those bruises. Isn’t she perfect, Joan? How are you, my dear?”

Joan smiles in amusement.

“I’m well, Sarah.”

She looks at me as if questioning my answer.

“Yes, I really am.”

She smiles. “Okay, then. Are you ready to go? Because I am taking you to the most perfect boutique—it hasn’t even opened for business yet.”

I frown, not understanding. Joan smiles. Obviously she knows where I’m going.

“It doesn’t open until the middle of next week. You’re guaranteed that whatever you pick, no one else will have it, because these dresses are all one-off designs.”

“Yes, I’m ready. Now you have me intrigued,” I reply as she takes my arm.

We say good-bye to Joan and head off with Murphy, taking the lift all the way down to the parking lot.

“So, Elizabeth, have you had any thoughts on what colour and style of dress you’re looking for?” Sarah asks.

“No, although I do tend to go for deeper colours. How formal is the party?” I ask.

“I would have to say, they’ve pulled out all the stops. I’m glad Richard and I are picking up the tab for the engagement party and not the actual wedding. I’m sure they put on the invites that it was a black-tie do, so I expect Alex will wear a tux, if that helps.” The lift doors open.

“And here I was, thinking something plain and simple.” I frown as I speak.

“Don’t you worry. The place we’re going will have lots of choices,” she answers with a smile.

We walk toward what I think looks like an Audi, but I could be wrong. I am the world’s worst when it comes to cars.
It looks like one of my dad’s cars.

Murphy opens the door and I let Sarah get in first. My mind races. I’ll need more than a dress if it’s a formal do—I’ll need a dress, a bag, and shoes. God, I’m going to need a bigger suitcase to go home. And what the hell am I going to do with my hair? I can never get it looking good for a night out. It’s either Kirsty or the hairdresser.

“Elizabeth, everything alright? You look deep in thought.”

“No, I’m fine. Are you going to tell me where we’re headed?”

“It’s a surprise,” she says with a smile that brings out the sparkle in her eyes. “All I’ll say is that you’re extremely lucky. The owner hasn’t even offered the bride-to-be a look at these designs.”

And that’s all she says on the matter. We travel through the city, which reminds me of home. Not that it’s like Glasgow at all—except for the stop-and-start at every set of traffic lights. It doesn’t matter what time I drive in Glasgow’s city centre, it’s always the same, but I expect most cities are like that. Sarah points out various places to me as we pass them.

We’ve not been driving that long when we stop, and Murphy comes around to open the door. I get out and take in my surroundings. I’m standing in front of a shop that has its windows blacked out with a sign reading, “Opening Soon.”

“Here we are. Sophie’s Boutique des Vetements.” The smile on Sarah’s face is full of delight and pride. She had the same look the first time I met her when we spoke about Alex.

“Sophie’s dress shop . . . as in your daughter, Sophie?” I ask, realising that it can only be.

“Yes. Come on. She can’t wait to meet you.”

“Mrs. Mathews, call when you’re ready to leave. Happy shopping, Miss Stewart,” Murphy says before returning to the car.

Sarah opens the door and we enter. It’s stunning. A lot of thought and planning has gone into this shop, from the lighting to the wall coverings and all the fixtures. It’s bright and light and luxurious. Then there are the dresses. Wow.

“Mom, is that you?” a voice calls from the back.

“Yes, sweetheart, it’s me.” Sarah looks at me and, in a lower voice, says, “Sophie has been excited about this.”

Sophie comes rushing through looking rather flushed.

“What have you been doing?” Sarah asks as she eyes her daughter. “Sophie, this is Elizabeth.”

“Libby, it’s great to meet you,” Sophie says, giving me a tight embrace before holding me at arm’s length. “Stunning.”