Page 26 of Broken

“Coffee, please, and a bacon sandwich if we have some?” I ask politely to the house girl who is obediently staring at the floor.

She is clearly terrified because when she says, “of course,” it comes out in a very squeaky voice and she scurries off. They aren’t usually that terrified, even the newbies know what to expect. I turn to look at Grant, who is eating his full English breakfast like there was nothing remotely abnormal by her behaviour. In fact, he’s so fucking pompous, I question whether he even knew she was in the same room.

“Wow, she’s a bit skittish, isn’t she?” I ask him and the menacing smile he returns with, chills my bones. When I first started working for Grant, he had a reputation for being a psychopath, he acts without thinking and he is all about not giving a shit about others, acting without reason or emotion. Then I got to know him and I realised that’s not completely true. He does have emotions and he is capable of caring, he justchoosesnot to. He wasn’t born this way, he was created. The product of years and years of abuse and poor upbringing at the hands of his father. I realise that's not an excuse, but during the time we have worked together, I have seen him lose control lots of times, yet every time he has, he's been enforcing a rule that his father taught him. Then there’s times like right now when all of that sympathy for a poor broken little boy goes flying out of the window and all I’m left with is the man sitting in front of me, smiling like a maniac.

“She was slow with my morning juice. I showed her my gun and now she moves a lot faster,” he says with a chuckle before he continues eating like what he just said is perfectly normal. I shake my head in disbelief.

“What have I told you about scaring the shit out of your employees? At least try and keep them for a whole week, if you can.” Grant tuts at me, having heard the same speech numerous times and it falls on deaf ears, once again.

“Grant, about last night…” I start to say before he cuts me off.

“I know, what a party. It was an amazing night, wasn’t it? Everyone seemed to have had a great time,” Grant says, acting as though the main part of the evening didn’t happen.

“Look, you are my friend and you know I respect the hell out of you, but you also know I have to speak my mind with you,” I say and he nods in confirmation, placing his utensils down to give me his full attention. “Do you not think you went a bit far with Ava last night? To do that to her, in front of all of those people, just didn’t seem right to me. I know you want her to agree to be your wife and to conform to being the girl your father wants her to be, but I’m just not sure this is the best way to do that. You know any one of those arseholes could have reported this back to your father and then what?” I ask and I can see him processing everything I have just said.

“Of course, I know they will tell my father. Hell, I chose a couple of them for that very reason. I’ve told you before, Ryder, there's a bigger plan at work here and the less you know about it, the better. My father is protective over Ava and I need to see how far he is willing to go with that. The family will collapse without a Blakeman running things and he knows it. The reason we hold our position of power is through fear and image. If someone else takes control over me, it will show weakness. Yet, he is still threatening to do just that if I marry Ava. I need to push him and I need to do it now. I have lost so much already to make my play now, but the timing has to be now, I have to see it through,” he says with great determination and my brain is buzzing.

“Why the hell would the old man risk everything to protect Ava? Who is she to him?” I ask and I don't miss the flash of rage that shines across Grants features.

“She is from his past and I don’t even think she knows why, but I do. What I don’t know is how far he will go for her. I need to find out because she could be the key to getting everything,” he says with a look of pure malice in his eyes. I knew that he hated his father, I mean who wouldn’t? He was abused by him his whole life, yet he still followed him. I know he had his rebellious moments, but he still trained and has been on track to take over the business. That is what we have been working for, but now, I’m not so sure we are on the same page.

“Grant, are you trying to bring down your father so you can take over from him now, or are you trying to bring down your father's entire empire?” I inquire, since it’s clear I don’t have a fucking clue what he is up to anymore. That thought alone chills me to the bone. I have a plan and he is ruining it.

“Like I said, the less you know, the better. But, don’t you worry. There will always be a job for you with me.” He looks at me with a genuine smile like he is trying to express he is doing me a favour by granting me job security, but he isn’t. I know exactly what job I joined this business to do and he is interfering with it. It’s then that it dawns on me that I let Ava get hurt, I chose my job over her, all because of that dream of getting to the top. A dream that might never come true and that causes a sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach. My mind is working a mile a minute, trying to think of what to do about this, how to get things back on track, but I'm interrupted by a call from Grant's phone. The serene look on his face morphs from one of concern to anger in a flash and I’m instantly alert.

“I have to go. I may be gone for a couple of days. You stay here and make sure nothing happens to Ava. I wouldn’t put it past my father to try and spring her free. I need her to be here when I get back. I will take Vic with me.” Grant issues the orders as he kicks his chair back and stands from the table, his half eaten breakfast long forgotten. I’m torn because, of course, I want to stay here and keep Ava safe, but I also need to know what Grant is up to.

“What’s going on? Are you sure you don’t need me with you?” I ask in panic, trying to show how much I care about his sudden unrest, when really I just need information.

“I will tell you when I return. Vic is capable of looking out for me by himself and I need you here. She has to be here when I get back, do you understand?” He glares at me as he questions me. For a split second, it’s like he could see the thoughts running through my mind. I was thinking of all the different ways I could help Ava escape and hope he wouldn’t realise it was me, but, of course, he would.

“She will be here, you have my word,” I say through gritted teeth. He nods in affirmation before marching off through the door. Fuck, whatever is going on here is not good.

Chapter Twenty-Two

Ava

Waking up surrounded by plush, luxurious cushions and soft silky sheets, for just a moment, makes me think I am somewhere like a posh hotel. I know it’s my brain's way of giving me a moments reprieve from where I actually am. I roll over and wince as my whole body aches. I feel sore all along my back and my arse feels so sensitive, I know I won’t be able to sit down properly today without feeling pain. Then again, I think that was the point. Grant wanted to mark me and give me a constant reminder of what happens when I don’t follow the rules. The more I move, the more throbs I feel coating my skin. It brings the whole night flashing back, but my brain isn’t focusing on what I expect. Obviously, being finger fucked by a lunatic in front of a bunch of perverts is at the top of my list of most awful things that have ever happened to me, but that’s not the memory I’m thinking of. I can see the blank and vacant look on Ryder’s face when he stood and watched Grant strip me, he stared at his beer bottle like it held the answers to life while that monster slapped every part of my thighs, back, and arse. Then he stood there, looked me in the eye and watched as I begged to cum on another guy’s fingers like a performing whore. The whole time he just stood there, he made no effort at all to save me. Then he had the nerve last night to tell me I was safe with him, so I yelled and I kicked off, but I didn’t do it because I was mad at him. I did it because he was right. Despite all of those visuals floating around my brain, showing me he had no intention of helping me, I knew I was safe. From the moment he covered me with his shirt, picked me up and held me in his big strong arms, nestled me tight against his rock hard chest, I knew the truth. He did want to keep me safe and as I snuggled up to his neck and felt the soothing touch of his body against my inflamed skin, I listened to the soothing beat of his heart and I felt safe. That’s why I got angry and some of my sobs were for Ryder because I realised, despite all the good sense my brain was speaking, my heart was yelling louder. I am falling in love with Ryder and I have no idea why. That thought alone is enough for the tears to start up again and I begin to sob. I cry for the life I will never have, the dignity I can never get back, and the pain that wracks my body. But mostly, I cry for the love I want but will never have.

As soon as I begin to cry, I feel the bed dip down at the side of me and fear captures my body. I roll over quickly to see who the person in my bedroom is, silently praying it isn’t the monster coming for round two because I really need a break to build my strength up again enough to fight. Rolling causes a loud gasp followed by a low moan to escape my lips, as I rolled without thinking about the pain. The nerves in my arse feel like they are flaming hot and are tingling and rippling with pain. But laying on my back gives me a better view of who is in my personal space.

“Sssh, Ava. It’s ok, it's only me. I’m not here to fight, I just want to see how you are doing and if I need to get you any kind of medical attention. Grant has gone away for a couple of days and has left you here to heal, with me to help you. Please, just let me check you over,” Ryder whispers so softly into my ear, shivers run down my back from the feel of his breath hitting my face. Despite how mad and disappointed I am with him over last night, I can't deny that my body reacts to his. Looking into his beautiful green eyes, they look like sparkling emeralds as they shine bright looking at me. He is looking at me in the same way he always does, with passion and lust in his eyes, but this confuses me. How can he look at me the same when nothing is the same? Not only is my skin covered in marks from the torturous abuse he stood by and watched be inflicted on me, but I am also wrapped in a layer of shame. I feel disgusting and like every one of my nerves prickle and remind me of what I lowered myself to, the things I said and the noises I made. Rationally, I know I had no control, but that doesn’t stop the sickening feeling I have right now. I don’t understand why Ryder isn’t looking and seeing the disgusting whore from last night, because that's who I feel that I am. I want to argue with him, to tell him to leave me alone, to tell him he is too late to look after me because he should have done that yesterday instead. But, I am in pain and I need someone to check and make sure I’m not as broken as I feel.

Ryder stands and I hate how much his absence affects me, I feel like a piece of myself is missing, but luckily, he returns quickly. I released the breath I didn’t even realise I was holding. I lay on my side slightly, trying to face him whilst also allowing him to be able to see my skin once it is exposed. His eyes never leave mine and there is a serene calm in his glistening green orbs that helps me find peace. Slowly, he unbuttons the shirt of his I am still wearing from last night. I hate to admit how much comfort I felt being draped in his scent. As he peels the bed sheets and the shirt away, leaving me completely naked, his gaze remains on my eyes. I can see he is tempted to look. The fire he felt during the night we shared is still very much alive, but he also knows that right now, it’s the last thing I need. He gives me his cheeky crooked smile and although it doesn’t quite meet his eyes and isn’t as big as normal, it still causes my heart to flutter and my lips to raise into my own smile.

“Can I look?” he asks with a deep husky voice that causes my thighs to clench. I know he is asking to look at my wounds, but fuck, did he make that sound dirty. Then it hits me that the me before last night would have replied with some feisty comment like ‘I will show you mine, if you show me yours’, but that's not what happens. Instead, I'm overwhelmed by shame that he’s going to look at my body and see reminders of what happened that night, of the slut Grant turned me into. This just confirms it because yesterday, I was begging to cum in front of a room full of people and today, I’m exposing myself and thinking of mounting someone else. But it’s not someone else, it’s Ryder. My Ryder. My brain feels like it might explode from the confusion. I need to get this over with so I can get some clothes on and try to get back to normal. So, I nod my consent.

Ryder leans over to look at my back and I hear him gasp. The hand I hadn’t even realised was laced with my own suddenly tightens, almost to the point of pain and it’s obvious Ryder is furious. He begins running his finger over the most tender areas and from the way they feel, I'm sure it's only bruised, nothing that will leave a permanent reminder. I will have enough of those in my head. He trails his fingers all across my back, my lower thighs, and my arse. He is very careful not to go anywhere too inappropriate and I’m glad because there's always going to be a part of me that wants that from Ryder, who craves it, but now is not the time. The electric sensation I feel as the warmth of his fingertips trail over my skin begins to feel soothing and soon the sting from the bruise is eradicated and all I feel is Ryder. I don't know how long he does it for, but my body hums in a gentle appreciation. He has brought a calmness over my body that I didn’t think was possible in this state. The more he continues his beautiful trail, the more it reminds me of the first night his fingers touched mine and the jolts of passion that spread through them, as memories of that night enter my mind, I’m so grateful for the relief from the haunting visions of the night before, that I let out a small content moan.

Ryder’s fingers freeze and he pulls back away from me. Before I even know what’s happening he stands up, doesn’t even look at me before saying, “I’m going to run you a nice relaxing bath. I will add some aromatherapy oils and things that should help with the aches and the stings. Nothing there is permanent, just some bruises. Some have already started to fade but others are more… severe.”

Before I even have a chance to thank him or say anything, he walks off into the ensuite and I hear the bath beginning to fill. He walks out several minutes later and motions for me to follow him in. The bathroom is still one of my favourite places in this whole house. The bath is giant and has a jacuzzi function, which I can't wait to try. Right now, the bath is filled with an array of different colours, presumably from different bath bombs. There are bubbles all over and a beautiful floral scent, but it is the lavender that draws me in. At the back of the tub, on the ledge, Ryder has lit some scented candles and despite there being several different scents flying around, they all seem to compliment each other. They are so inviting and I completely forget Ryder is standing in the doorway, waiting for me to say something, I have to get in this bath. So, I move as quickly as my sore body will allow and drop the shirt I was holding closed and quickly climb into the gorgeous, hot water. As I submerge under the bubbles, I feel amazing and can feel the small bath salts evaporating around my body. The smells ensnare my senses and I relax further into the bath, letting out a deep moan of appreciation for the way the water feels against my sore, broken body. It’s not just me who feels as though I have released a breath I have been holding, it feels like my skin breaths too. Wow, Ryder can really draw up a bath, I think to myself. In fact, he is going to be in charge of getting all my baths ready for all eternity, my body replies happily. That’s when the reality side of my brain kicks in and I look over at the real Ryder, the one who can’t run my baths forever because he chose his work over me.

His gaze is one of pure fire and although he tries to hide it with the mask of indifference that he has perfected so perfectly, I saw the truth. And he may be able to hide the desire in his eyes, but no matter how much he shuffles around, the bulge in his jeans is more than obvious. He sees where my eyes are and turns to leave.

“I’m gonna leave you to soak out your muscles. I will be back soon with breakfast. There’s a towel on the counter and I left out some shorts and a t-shirt of mine if you want to wear them. You don’t have to, I know you have your own clothes, but before…” he stumbles, unsure of how to finish.

“Thank you,” I reply simply. It's the only answer I have at the moment because I don’t know what I want to do.

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