Page 7 of His Dark Purpose

“He lied to me.” She stared out of the nearest window, blinking at the light spilling into his room. “All the time we were here, getting to know each other, and he never even mentioned he’d been my landlord.”

Her landlord—and a whole lot more. The man who’d owned their house in Aspen Way had evicted her and the boys shortly after Graham’s death. He’d pressed the gas on her already shrinking financial situation and accelerated her way to the grim places she subsequently called home.

His decision to kick her out made him the architect of all the suffering she’d since endured.

And all the while, he’s known.She swallowed, trying to rationalize what he might have been thinking, but however hard she tried, she couldn’t justify the way he’d omitted the truth.He collected me from the tiny studio flat when I took this job, so he knew how bad things were, and still, he hadn’t felt called to confess.

Worse still was the fact that he still hadn’t admitted anything. If it hadn’t been for the teasing maid’s game they’d been playing that day, she might have gone years without discovering the truth. Hell, he might have never confessed to the dubious way their paths had already crossed.

The unhappy acknowledgment reinforced her brimming outrage.

How dare he do this!

“Stop it.” She shook her head, conscious that the weight of her woe was giving her the worst kind of headache. “I have to think. I’ll need a plan…”

Her gaze traveled around his room, as though she expected a solution to appear from thin air.

“Maybe he left the key to the cuff close by?”

She doubted that was likely, but searching for it had to be worth a shot, and doingsomething was better than sitting there crying about her predicament.

Amy had been through a lot of struggle to get to that point in her life, and she’d hoped a future with Kyle looked brighter than the past had been, but somehow, she’d still found herself unjustly restrained. Her so-called home might be palatial, but bound to his bed, she realized it was little more than a prison.

Shifting closer to the bedside unit, she yanked open the top drawer and scoured the contents. She glowered at the array of random items that met her eyes, unsure how any of them helped her. A posh-looking fountain pen, a couple of condoms, and a tube of lubricant caught her attention, but there was no sign of a key.

Closing the drawer, she ignored her galloping heart’s counsel to be careful. If he arrived back to find her going through his things, goodness knew what he’d do. It was that exact scenario, after all, that had seen her land in her current sorry state, but for some warped reason, the idea of his anger only buoyed her. It wasn’t that his emotion didn’t inspire fear—she’d definitely sensed it burning in her veins when he’d brought her there—but that the trepidation wasn’t enough to halt her, and eyeing the other drawer in the unit, she understood why.

She wanted him to be furious—wanted him tofeelsomething for her other than the disdain his cuffs currently conveyed.

“Fuck him!” She spat the insult into the ether, yanking open the second drawer and scanning the neatly folded piles of his underwear. Rifling through someone’s personal possessions with only one hand was harder work than she’d realized it would be. “Fuck his big, fancy house.”

Pulling the piles of Calvin Klein garments aside to check there was no key hidden between them, her hopes faded.

Nothing.

No key and no hope of getting out of there.

“Oh God.” She heaved in air as the inevitable outcome played out in her head.

She couldn’t get away, and that meant she’dhaveto be there—exactly where he’d left her—when the bastard came back.

“How did this happen?”

Hiking her legs onto the preposterously cozy bed, she let out a sigh. If she was forced to stay there and endure the indignity, she might as well take whatever semblance of comfort she could. Still dressed in the preposterous maid’s dress, she wanted to cringe. The outfit was only another example of what little choice she had over her own life. There was no way she could change her clothing, just as there was no way she could free herself.

“Brilliant.” Her snide tone was aimed more at herself than Kyle. “Almost fifty years of age and now this!”

Shifting on the bed, she attempted to get comfy, but there were no comfortable positions when one arm was yanked out to the side and suspended in metal. A fresh wave of resentment washed over her at the evaluation. Kyle had snatched away her options when he’d walked out of the door.

Howhas it come to this?

She used to be so normal, married to Graham and working regular jobs to make ends meet. Graham had been the very definition of stability, going to work every day and never so much as looking at another woman. She should have been happy with his commitment, but looking back, she knew they’d never even been close to genuine contentment.

“I did love him once, though.” Her lips tugged at the warm memories. “Just not like Kyle.”

Graham had come at a time when she’d been young and impetuous. In those heady days, the pursuit of falling in love had seemed so damn important, and shehadfallen for him—albeit temporarily. In the end, her life with her husband hadn’t been exciting, but its predictability meant she’d never found herself his captive.

She chewed on that thought, the premise ofhowshe was supposed to get away ruminating, when the sound of soft tread on the carpet outside echoed through the door.

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