Nothing Left to Lose (61 page)

I sighed as the
door to my hotel room clicked closed. As soon as I was on my own, I
missed him; I didn’t want to spend the night alone at all. I’d lied
and reassured him that I wouldn’t dream tonight, but I knew that
wouldn’t be true. I was probably in for a bad night tonight, but I
knew that it was only eight hours and then I’d be able to see him
again. That thought was comforting.

I sighed and
headed to the bedroom, slipping out of the dress that my mother had
commissioned specifically for this event. Smiling to myself, I
slipped the shoes into the bottom of my travel bag so I could keep
them; there was not a chance I was giving those back. When I had on
my pyjamas, which consisted of a pair of boy shorts and the T-shirt
that Ashton wore yesterday, I climbed into the cold bed. It was so
weird lying on my own, the bed felt too big somehow, I had too much
leg room and no one was crushing me. I laughed quietly to myself
and thought about my evening.

I’d had an
incredible night tonight, and although things were going to change
now that people would know who I was, I wouldn’t have missed this
party for the world. Seeing Ashton in that tuxedo had given me many
new fantasies to think about. I pictured his face as I had walked
down the stairs to meet him. The way he’d looked at me made my
heart flutter erratically. I had never seen anything more
heart-stoppingly gorgeous in my life than Ashton Taylor standing
there with that familiar smile on his face. He’d certainly given
all of those celebrities a run for their money tonight; he was
undeniably the hottest guy in the room. I sighed contentedly and
pulled Ashton’s T-shirt up to cover my nose so I could breathe him
in while I fell asleep, hopefully that would be enough to stop the
dreams.

Pressing
tighter against the wall, I silently pray he won’t see me. I am
going to pay for disobeying, I know this, but still I stand there,
motionless, instead of running back to the yard and pretending that
I hadn’t moved from where he’d told me to wait.

As I peek
around the corner of the wall and into the lounge, I see Carter
standing with his back to me. At his feet, someone is on their
knees. “Please, I’m sorry, it won’t happen again,” the guy begs,
his voice breaking through fear.

“
Not good
enough, Mario. I lost two mil in coke because you couldn’t keep
your fucking dick in your pants long enough to make the fucking
exchange!” Carter growls, his voice hard and angry. He moves to the
side, and I see the guy on the floor. I recognise his face but know
nothing about him; Carter always keeps his business away from me. A
gun resides in Carter’s hands, his favoured silver pistol with the
ivory handle. It is his preferred gun, he tells me this often.
Mario’s eyes flick to me for a split second, and I freeze. Carter,
seeing Mario’s attention diverted, turns and looks at me. Anger
crosses his face before his usual loving expression masks
it.

“
What are
you doing here, Princess?” he asks, waving his hand for me to go to
him.

I gulp. “I’m
sorry, Carter. I just needed the bathroom,” I explain
apologetically, walking over and taking the hand that he is
offering.

“
It’s okay.
Take a seat there, I’m almost done,” he instructs, nodding towards
the couch.

I gulp and
obediently sit. Mario’s shoulders loosen as some of the tension
leaves him. Clearly he thinks he is safe now that I am here,
possibly thinking that Carter won’t kill him in front of me.
Obviously, he doesn’t know Carter very well.

“
I’m sorry,
boss, it won’t happen again,” Mario apologises.

Carter nods in
response, bringing the pistol up and aiming for the middle of
Mario’s face. “I know,” he states as he pulls the trigger.

As the shot
rings out, I whimper and try to look away, but I can’t. It is the
single most disgusting and horrifying thing I have ever seen in my
life. In an instant, half of Mario’s face disappears to be replaced
by a bloody, soft, ragged, oozing mess. His body twitches a couple
of times before falling backwards to the floor, making a loud
thump.

Carter touches
my face. I can barely breathe. “Princess, I told you to wait
outside for me,” he coos lovingly as he leans in and kisses my
cheek.

“
I… I know,
I… I’m sorry,” I stutter.

“
Hmm, it’s
no problem. I missed you anyway,” he purrs as his fingers move to
the zip of my dress, tugging on it gently. While he slides the
straps of my dress over my shoulders and kisses the side of my
neck, I can’t focus on anything other than the pool of blood that
is forming under the dead body. “Mmm, you are so fucking hot. I
love you,” he whispers as he pushes on my shoulders, guiding me to
lie back onto the sofa. The buttons pop on his jeans as he wrenches
them open before settling himself on top of me. “Do you love me?”
he asks, slowly lifting the skirt of my dress so that the material
bunches around my waist.

The pool of
blood is so big now that it is almost touching the rug on the
floor. As I ponder over how much blood can be left inside him, a
sharp pain resonates across my ribs and I gasp, whimpering. “I said
do you love me?” Carter repeats, pressing on the bruises that I
already have across my ribcage.

“
Of course I
love you, baby,” I lie quickly. The words still feel as though they
rip my heart out, even though I’ve said them every day for the last
six months.

“
Hmm, good,”
he whispers, easing my legs apart and settling himself between my
thighs. When Mario’s leg twitches, I squeal and look at it with
wide eyes, knowing I will have a fresh nightmare tonight instead of
the usual ones. “It’s normal,” Carter says quickly. He grips my
chin between his thumb and forefinger, turning my head towards his
and crashing his lips to mine.

As he uses my
body, pleasuring himself like he does every day, all I can see is
the dead man’s foot twitching, his one lifeless eye staring up at
the ceiling, and the dark blood that is slowly congealing on the
tiled floor.

Finally, he
reaches his climax and slumps down on top of me, crushing me with
his weight. When his breathing has slowed and the dead man’s blood
has reached the edge of the expensive-looking cream rug, Carter
moves to nibble on my earlobe. “I love you so much, Princess.”

Numb. I’m numb
and emotionless. I barely even feel the pain between my legs where
he’s just used me for his own sick satisfaction.

He smiles
against my neck. “You know, I was thinking about something
earlier.” He pulls back and grins down at me, his eyes sparkling
with excitement. “I think we should get married.”

My mouth is
dry. I have no words.

He strokes the
side of my face softly. “Annabelle Thomas. I like it. Maybe we’ll
go to Vegas tomorrow,” he suggests, grinning at me.

I don’t feel
anything. I am dead inside. He has killed me. I honestly don’t care
if I am married to him or not, there is nothing I can do about it
either way.

Screaming,
someone was screaming. I jerked up in the bed, only to realise that
it was me. Fumbling behind me, I grab the pillow and press it over
my face to muffle the sound as the scream slowly subsides. I didn’t
want any guards to burst in and see me like this, and I also didn’t
want it getting back to Ashton in the morning that I’d had a
nightmare. Helpless tears flowed down my face at the memory. I
panted, trying to calm down. My heart was crashing in my chest.
After what seemed like forever, my body slowly started to return to
normal. My muscles unclenched, my jaw loosened and my tears dried
up. Glancing over at the clock, I saw that it was only three in the
morning. I groaned and rolled over, squeezing my eyes shut, hoping
for more sleep to find me.

“
So, all we
need is some identification, and then you’re all set to go,” the
guy says from Carter’s window.

Carter grins
at me excitedly as he squeezes my knee. I smile automatically,
knowing that is the response he wants from me. He grabs his driving
licence and my fake one that Jack got for me for the club, and then
he hands them to the guy at the drive through, along with a wad of
cash.

I stare at my
nails, picking aimlessly at the skin down the side, making it
bleed. When the car rolls forward a few minutes later, I glance up,
emotionless. This was what it had come to. Getting married in a
drive through chapel in Vegas because he doesn’t trust me to get
out of the car, so he’d found a place where minimal contact with
people was needed.

As we pull up
at the next window, a guy stands there in a white robe. As he
talks, I can’t even pay attention, so I pick aimlessly at the skin
on the edge of my nail again. A sharp sting on my wrist distracts
me from my task. I look down, seeing that Carter is squeezing my
wrist, digging his nails into my skin.

“
Say your
words, Princess.”

I look up
expectantly at the man in the booth, not even bothering to beg for
help. If I did, Carter would shoot him dead – he’d already told me
that several times on the way here.

I repeat the
words after him. “I, Annabelle Spencer, take you, Carter Thomas, to
be my lawful wedded husband. To have and to hold from this day
forward. For richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, until
death do us part.” As I say it, I pray the last part, the part
about death, comes soon for either me or him. At this point, I’m
past caring who.

I feel
nothing. Ever since he’d made me lose the baby, something had been
terribly wrong with me. I just don’t care anymore, nothing matters
to me. I don’t even feel pain like I used to. Sometimes I long for
pain to give me something else to think about, so I provoke him
into beating me. Even that pain doesn’t last long enough anymore
though.

Carter grins
and I plaster on a fake smile as he says his words to me and slips
the expensive-looking gold wedding band onto my finger. I study it,
emotionless. It is set with little diamonds all the way around it,
and probably cost him more than the car we were driving in.

“
I now
pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss your bride,” the man
says happily, utterly oblivious to my waking nightmare that I can’t
escape from.

Carter lets
out a triumphant growl and grabs me, kissing me, hard. After a few
seconds, he pulls back, grinning from ear to ear, looking happier
than I have ever seen him. “You’re officially mine now, Mrs
Thomas.”

I gasped and
sat up. I was sweating so much that the bed was damp, and the
sheets were stuck to my body. My hand was hurting for some reason.
I turned the light on and looked at my left hand; it was clenched
in such a tight fist that my fingernails had cut into my palm,
drawing blood. Groaning, I pushed myself out of bed and take a deep
breath. Dizziness overcame me, so I put my hand on the bed to
steady myself as my legs wobble. I hated to think of the fact that
I was married to the man that caused my life to spiral out of
control. No one knew. I had never told anyone, not even my parents,
and I didn’t ever plan on it either.

I knew deep
down that the marriage wasn’t legal. I was sixteen when it happened
and we’d used a fake ID. I could easily have it annulled, but that
would mean I would need to tell people, and I didn’t want to do
that. I couldn’t talk about it, I couldn’t tell people what I went
though, couldn’t admit the shameful things that had happened to me
under his hand. There was no way I was strong enough to look my
parents in the eye and tell them that I’d married him. I couldn’t
ask them to help me get it annulled because I didn’t want to see
that pitying, horrified look that made everything worse. So I
buried it so deep that the only outlet it had was through my night
terrors. I hid the shame and the terror, and I never let it out.
Not ever.

Once my
dizziness had subsided, I headed to the bathroom and ran my hand
under the cold water, rinsing the blood away, and then pressed it
onto a towel until the bleeding stopped. My gaze drifted up to the
mirror behind the sink. I frowned at my own reflection, hating
myself. I looked like a complete mess. My mascara was smeared under
my bloodshot eyes, and my face was pale and sweaty. I splashed some
cold water over my face; it felt so good that I decided to go for a
shower.

After a long
shower, I stepped back into my room. It was barely five in the
morning, but I didn’t want to go back to sleep, I couldn’t dream
again tonight. Throwing on some jeans and a new shirt, I grabbed my
iPod and then headed out of the room. As I opened the door to my
hotel suite, I stopped short as Mike looked up at me with wide
eyes.

“Annabelle? Is
everything okay?” he asked, frowning down at my fully dressed
body.

I nodded,
sidestepping him and heading for the elevator. “Fine. I’m just
going for a walk. I won’t leave the hotel, don’t worry.” I waved my
hand over my shoulder dismissively.

He made a kind
of scoff sound in the back of his throat as he stepped to my side
and reached out, pressing the call button for the elevator for me.
“Not on your own, you’re not,” he stated flatly.

I didn’t bother
to protest, I knew it was useless anyway. As soon as the elevator
arrived and the heavy doors slid open, I slipped in and pressed the
lobby button and tried to ignore him as he stepped in beside
me.

Unfortunately
for me, because of the early hour, the salon and spa were all shut,
so the only thing I could do was sit in the lobby and have a drink
while Mike went to stand against the wall about twenty feet from
me.

After three
coffees, it was finally seven o’clock and the place started to wake
up a bit. People were coming down for breakfast, and the night
staff were going home, to be replaced by new morning staff.