Page 42 of Trailer Park Billionaire
Worse: Ben Lyon with white socks in beige Crocs. Proof that he isn’t perfect after all—and damning evidence that he isn't what (or rather, who) he claims to be.
My brain stalls. My mouth falls open. His tightens while his jaw clenches.
We both speak at the same time: “What the?—”
15
BEN
“Fuck!”
This could ruin everything—everything we’ve worked for so hard.
I could flagellate myself right now.
How the fuck did I blow my cover?
And more importantly, what the fuck am I going to do with her now?
She knows too much. I can’t let her get away.
Helena notices the expression on my face, and it’s like she can read my thoughts.
“Actually, never mind,” she mumbles, spins on her heels and tries to run off.
She doesn’t get far, though, because Alexei, who must have seen her approach, already moved in to block her escape.
I guess we’re doing this.
I step out of my trailer and, before Helena can scream, wrap one hand around her mouth, the other around her body, pulling her towards me. She drops her art supplies and begins to struggle.
Of course, she’s tiny—almost surprisingly weak—and overpowering her takes barely any effort. The hardest thing about it is not smelling her. Because she does smell nice. Like burned caramel and turpentine. It’s intoxicating.
This isn’t good. We shouldn’t be doing this.
I carry her inside the trailer, sit her down on the bench at my kitchen table, and tell Alex to bring me the box from under my bed.
Helena has given up struggling and just glances at me now. There’s anger and hatred in her eyes—but no fear. Which is good. She can hate me all she wants, but I don’t want her to be afraid. Not after what must have happened to her.
“We’re not going to do anything to you. Don’t worry,” I assure her in the most emphatic tone possible as Alexei puts down the box and opens it to reveal a bunch of ropes, ties, and handcuffs.
Helena looks inside the box, then up to me, and crosses her arms. Now I’m pretty sure I can read her mind.
“Not what it looks like,” I try to assure her again, even though, yes, in this case… it’s sort of what it looks like. “I promise. We’re not going to hurt you. We just can’t have you run off right now. It’s for your own safety.” I grab the zip ties and extend my hand.
Reluctantly, she holds hers out, letting me cuff her. Then I add ties around her legs and fasten them to the metal pole of the kitchen table.
“Shouldn’t you ask for my safeword first?” she says mockingly, shaking her head like she can’t believe any of this is happening.
This is my fault.
I was careless.
I must have led her here.
“This is your fault,” Alexei grunts from behind me. “You idiot led her here. I saw her follow you on my way to the museum.”
Shit. I took the usual detour through the skyscraper like I always do.She shouldn’t have been able to follow me.
