Page 52 of Crushed
CHAPTER 17
Scarlett
Come to my estate.
Cormac’s command blinked back at me from my phone’s screen. It was earlier than usual, not quite evening yet. The next text was his address. I knew where he lived; his estate was situated near the woods at the edge of Sage City. But this sudden, personal invitation seemed strange. Was he inviting me over for another task related to power exchange? Another test that would trick me into a strange situation? Or was it worse? Had he caught my slip up? My brain had been so fuzzy after coming down from that orgasm that I had tripped over my own stories, letting him hear the SNC acronym. Is that why he was finally letting me into his home? Because he knew what I was, why I had pursued him, and now, he was going to get rid of me in his protected estate, like I was supposed to get rid of him?
I texted Lizzy:I might have blown my cover. Please help?But like the rest of messages I had sent her over the last couple of days, she didn’t respond. It pissed me off. She liked doing things the hard way. If she wouldn’t budge at a text with a plea that I might be in trouble, then she wasn’t going to budge, no matter what I said.
Still, I texted her again, because at least I could think straight when I talked to her. I pretended like we were discussing it in person.Should I go to his estate? He invited me. But I think I slipped about SNC though. I’m not sure that he noticed.
Lizzy was always about seizing the opportunity, facing the honest truth head-on, which was part of why she was so skilled and flawed at assassinating targets. It was why we worked well together. I was new and still had some insecurities and hesitation that I needed to shed. But there was usefulness to my hesitation, to my moral code. Because if it were up to Lizzy, she would tell me to go for it already and kill the damn target, moral code be damned.
But maybe there was a good point to that. I mean, why even have the moral code at this point? Cormac had shown me that hewasn’tcompletely bad. If there was anyone near the middle line, it was Cormac Stone.
Still, I needed to think like Lizzy. What would she do?
She would go. Even if it meant that her cover was blown, she would go. She would see where she landed, and figure it out from there.
Cormac’s estate had too much security for me to bring a gun, but I had a few other options that weren’t as easily detectableunlessyou knew what to search for. And if I was heavily searched, then I would know that Cormac knew and didn’t trust me anymore, if he ever had in the first place.
And if he didn’t search me, what would that mean?
There was still a chance that this had to do with total power exchange. Another test, another way to manipulate me into his becoming property, owning my mind and body.
What was worse? A man who wanted to lure me into his trap so he could kill me before I killed him, or a man who wanted to control me so that I thought my mind belonged to him? Both were fucked up, and there wasn’t enough time to debate it.
High cream-colored walls surrounded the property. A man in a small security booth nodded at me, checking my fake ID, then opened the gates. Trees sprang up on either side, a mix of the pines natural to Sage City and others I didn’t recognize. His house sprawled over the center of the area, with several stories and tall ceilings. It was no wonder that he called it an estate.
Before I could reach for the front door handle, it opened. A man dressed in a white button-up shirt and slacks gestured inside. I followed him down the shiny marble hallway. A text message came from a number I recognized but hadn’t saved in my contacts: Issac.I’ve got something for you, he sent. I ignored it. I would text him later.
When we came upon a door, the staff member said, “Mr. Stone would like for you to go through the cleansing process before meeting you in the next room.” The wordOccupiedwas highlighted in red. “It’s currently occupied by Mr. Stone. He’s asked specifically to be interrupted, should you arrive while he’s showering. As a word of warning though, the shower room can be very,” he paused, his brows furrowing, “very intense, Ms. Scarlett. Please mind yourself.”
Intense? “Thanks,” I said, then went through the door. It opened to a small waiting area, the floor covered in rubber mats, with some cubbies, a laundry bin, and a hanging towel rack. Water sprayed in a thick stream in the corner, the spray moving up and down while Cormac turned, letting the water beat into him. The soap suds disappeared down the drain, and when the water turned off, Cormac nodded at me. His cock hung between his muscular thighs, and his hair dripped down around his face. He pointed to a door at the other corner of the room.
“See you in there,” he said.
Instructions were written on a card that said to let it fully drench every part of my body before soaping down, then to let the same stream rinse me. But to say the shower was ‘intense,’ was a euphemism. It hurt like being sprayed with a pressure washer, but at least I wasn’t submerged. Steam rose around me; my skin turned bright red from the heat. I finished as quickly as I could.
I dressed in the provided clothes: a sports bra, booty shorts, socks, shoes, jeans, and a cotton shirt. The clothing seemed too plain to be anything in regards to total power exchange training, but I never knew with Cormac. I went into the next room.
Murals were painted on each wall: a forest of animals on one, the ceiling painted with puffy white clouds, an ocean on another wall, and a magical meadow on another. The lighting was bright but not overly fluorescent. A small bookshelf. A ladybug table. A small bed in the corner. A refrigerator opposite the bed. It was almost like a kindergarten or preschool classroom.
Except it wasn’t. With one bed, it was clearly made for a single child. Was he into age play?
I didn’t see a child, only Cormac, sitting on the floor at the ladybug table, smiling as he stared at the pile of stuffies in the corner. Sitting on the ground in a plain shirt, you would never be able to tell that he was a billionaire, that he ran most of the pharmaceutical companies in our nation.
“That’s no way to treat a guest, Rose,” he said.
Rose? My heart clenched. Was he talking to a child? The stuffies were so tightly packed, that it was impossible to see anything inside of them.
“I just wanted to introduce you to my good friend,” Cormac said. “Her name is Scarlett.”
“Like the color red?” a squeaky, muffled voice called out. I touched my lips; the lipstick was gone after the shower.
“Yes. Like the color red.”
A koala plush fell out of the wall, and a small face peered out. Her dark hair was pulled back into a half ponytail, but her green eyes were unmistakable. Her father’s eyes.
