Page 98 of Riot's Thorn
“Unpleasant? I’m being held here against my will. I’ve been through a lot ofunpleasantthings recently, and this is the worst. Given the fact that my dad was shot feet from me, that’s saying a lot,” I bite out.
“There’s a bathroom through that door. Please go shower with the products laid out for you. I also need your face washed and your teeth brushed.”
“Why? Why are you going along with this?” No matter how many mental gymnastics I do, I can’t figure out a world where another woman—a mother—can be okay with this.
She sighs. “Men like Bart. . . they get what they want, one way or another. Long ago, we agreed this was the best and safest way for him to release any unsavory proclivities he might have. Whenever his needs get to be too much for him to bear, he’ll arrange one of these events. And when he comes home the next day, he’s my clear-headed and kind husband.”
“So as long as your life is better, it’s okay he’s destroying others?”
“Just try and enjoy yourself as much as possible, and this will all be over soon.”
“Are you fucking delusional?”
“There’s no need to be crass,” she chides.
“Enjoy myself? Enjoy being raped and abused by who knows how many men? You think I’ll be able to go back to my normal life after this?”
“Of course not. They’ll kill you after you’ve given them everything you can.”
I shake my head and narrow my eyes, not believing my ears. How far gone must she be to think for one second that any of this is normal or okay? She knew me when I was a little girl. I played with her children. She sends me Christmas cards. None of this makes sense.
“Are you really this cruel, or does he have something over you?”
“Every woman has to make a choice. You can marry for love, or you can marry for power. I chose power, and with that comes a few concessions. Bart is allowed to have these experiences now and then, but the rest of the time he’s mine. And I get all this.” She motions around the room. “I have a beautiful home, and I spend my days doing whatever makes me happy. It’s a small trade-off.”
“You’re revolting. I can’t wait to take you down.”
“That’s enough chit-chat, don’t you think?” She opens the door to the bathroom. “We don’t have much time, so if you wouldn’t mind?”
I will get out of this. I don’t know how, but I’m smart, and I have something to fight for. My heart sinks knowing Riot’s out there hurting. He’s probably blaming himself. He’s also probably pretty pissed off. While I’ve only seen glimpses of Riot when he’s angry, I don’t have to stretch my imagination much to know how he’ll react. I just have to hold on. If I can’t save myself, Riot will save me. I have no doubt.
“Sure.” My smile is big and real because she’ll get what’s coming to her, and I can’t wait to see it.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
PARKER
It takes an hour for Anadell to make me presentable. The way she applied makeup to make me appear younger than I am is disgusting. After she was finished, I had to wait, leaving me with nothing to do but look at myself and be reminded how disturbing this whole thing was.
My cheeks and nose are pink and dusted with fake freckles, my mascara is brown, lengthening my lashes but not darkening them, and my lips are painted with a milky pink gloss.
My hair is predictably in low pigtails and curled into ringlets that hang over my shoulders, and the outfit she chose is just as repulsive. I almost laugh at how ridiculous I look in the pastel pink babydoll dress with big, puffy shoulders and ruffles everywhere. I’d look like a five-year-old if not for the fact that the dress is sheer, revealing the lacy pink garter belt and bra set underneath.
White stockings are clipped to the belt, but I wasn’t given panties, so the outline of my pussy can be seen close-up. Mary Janes with white ruffly socks finish off the outfit. I hope the pervs at this party are satisfied with looking but not touching because I will bite the dick off any man who dares come close.
I realize I should be more upset than I am, but the last couple of months have taught me I’m a survivor. Before Dad died, I didn’t think much about anything but school and friends. Being strong mentally and emotionally wasn’t a priority. But I’ve lived through some horrific experiences and haven’t broken yet, and even more, I found love through it all.
Love?
It seems a little premature for that, but I feel very strongly for him. I’ve never met someone so complex. Each time I peel back another layer, I’m amazed at how he’s managed to get through life despite the odds stacked against him. He’s the only reason I feel like I can handle whatever’s about to happen to me.
The door creaks open, and a tall man in a suit steps inside. He doesn’t even look at me as he gestures to the hallway. “Time to go.”
“And if I don’t?” I ask.
His stone-cold expression doesn’t change. “Kick, fight, scream, yell, I don’t give a shit. You’re coming with me one way or another.”
The last thing I want is for this man to touch me, so with all the pride I can muster, especially given what I’m wearing, I leave the room. The man leads me down the hallway to the foyer, where Bart waits for me.
