Thorne Princess(76)

Craig’s muffled voice—blocked by the linen and his vomit—tried to answer the question.

Ransom tugged him up by the hair. “Repeat that.”

“Nothing!” Craig cried out, tears streaming down his splotched face. “I swear!”

“Wrong answer. I’m giving you another chance, before I get creative with your punishment. Fair warning: my taste runs eclectic, and I’m a very adventurous man.”

Craig looked delirious with pain and fear.

“What were you going to do to her?” Ransom leaned down, whispering in his ear. His fingers tightened on Craig’s hair, pulling some of it out. His golden tresses fell next to my red-hot ones. Together, they looked like orange-tipped flames.

Craig closed his eyes. “I—I—I was just…I thought…I mean, I normally just…”

“He touches me and jerks off,” I found my voice from my spot in the corner of the room, hugging myself protectively.

“How many times?” Ransom asked without looking at me.

“Four,” I replied, including this one. The only impediment that stood between Craig and his goal was the man who was hired to protect me.

Somehow, it was not lost on me that my parents had hired Ransom.

“Hand me that hairbrush, would you, Miss Thorne?” Ransom opened his palm in my direction.

I scurried to the desk, doing as he said. Our fingers touched when I passed him the brush. The little hairs on my arms stood on end.

This wasn’t going to end well, my fascination with this violent, complex man who vowed to keep me safe.

“Prepare yourself for some spanking, kiddo,” Ransom announced in a talk-show host brightness. “Bite the duvet if you can’t take the heat.”

“The duvet is covered in vomit,” Craig protested weakly.

“Your doing. Bon appétit.”

He spanked him with the back of the brush, ten for each time he assaulted me. Forty in total. Until Craig’s ass was so red, so swollen, I didn’t think he could sit this month or the next. It made me feel protected and safe. Like someone had my back. And for the millionth time recently—that someone was Ransom.

Finally, Ransom let him go. Craig sagged to his knees with his pants still wrapped around his ankles, crawling toward the door. He left a trail of tears and blood.

“You’ll pay for this…both of you…you won’t get away with this.”

Ransom yanked a tissue box from the desk, pulled one, and wiped his hands nonchalantly. “Not sure about that, buddy. If you tell anyone what happened, I’ll tell everyone what really happened. Now, we both know Julianne and Anthony aren’t Parents of the Year material when it comes to Miss Thorne, but now you’ve really done it. No room for error.”

Craig stopped crawling. He turned around to look at us.

“They won’t believe her.” His eyes danced in their sockets.

“You’re wrong. But even if you weren’t, they’ll believe me,” Ransom said with confidence. “And I don’t intend on keeping it in the family, either. Just think of the check I can cut with a story this juicy.” Ransom let loose a low whistle, shaking his head. “You’ll be making me a rich man.”

I didn’t think he would—selling a story to the tabloids wasn’t his style—but the idea was bone-freezing. Craig must’ve shared the sentiment, because he rolled over the carpet, bracing himself against a wall to stand on his knees. “What do you want?”

Ransom sat down on the stool by the desk, bracing his elbows on his knees.

“You will never put a finger on this woman again.”

“Done.” Craig’s eyes singed red. He refused to look at me, focusing on Ransom only. “You think I want anything to do with her?”

“Seeing as I think very poorly of you, yes, I believe you’re stupid enough to try your luck again. I’m not going to stick around forever. But I am going to call Miss Thorne bi-annually to ensure that you keep your promise. Consider this a lifetime warranty of mine. She was nearly assaulted while under my supervision, and now I must protect her, eternally, from the monster who tried to put his hands on her.”

I could hug Ransom. I believed him. Believed he’d call. Believed he would never let a thing like that happen to me again. I also appreciated how, despite his kinks, he had such a clear sense of right and wrong, reality and fantasy.

“What else?” Craig asked, his head lolling over his chest.

“Cancel the wedding rehearsal.” I found my voice. I didn’t want to be here. Didn’t want to pretend to be happy for this horrible couple.

He snorted. “Like I can go out there looking like this.”

“What’ll you tell people?” I directed the question at Ransom, hating myself for caring.

“He is going to tell people he had an allergic reaction, passed out, and hit the back of his head on the mirror while collapsing. We found him and alerted the staff,” Ransom filled in the gaps for us.

“I’m not allergic to anything,” Craig whined.

“Get creative, asshole.” Ransom stood up. “Now pull your pants up and get the fuck out of here.”

A moment later, the door was shut behind Craig and it was just Ransom and me again. The stench of Craig’s puke engulfed the room. Ransom cracked a window open and stood next to it while I sank into the stool he’d just occupied.