Echo (Bleeding Hearts #1)(24)

“What happened to you?” I asked.

“That’s enough.” He slid out from beneath me and pulled away.

I landed in an unceremonious heap on the bed, expecting him to leave. There was a familiar shuffling as he dressed himself. And when he clasped his belt buckle back into place, it had the strangest effect inside of my belly. Warmth.

That warmth was swiftly carried away when he wrapped something rough around my wrist.

“What are you doing?” I demanded.

He didn’t respond. He simply pulled whatever it was taut before walking to the other side of the bed, repeating the action on my other wrist. By the time he was through, both my arms were strung high above my head. I couldn’t move them at all when he stepped away, and my skin prickled with sweat.

“Do you remember when I asked you earlier if you were ready to be redeemed?”

“Yes.” I gulped.

“Well guess what, Brighton?” he snarled. “There isn’t anything you could ever do to be redeemable in my eyes.”

It was the last thing he said before he walked out of the room.





Chapter Nine



I woke with puffy eyes and a splitting headache.

Every inch of my body groaned in protest when I tried to move. My arms were so weak I thought they were numb. That could be the only reason I didn’t feel the awful pain in my shoulders and wrists.

All night I had struggled to get free. My wrists were chafed and probably bloody from the rope he used to tie me. I was humiliated and terrified. I was certain he was going to leave me for the hotel staff to find in the morning.

But when I moved my arm again and nothing protested, I sat up slowly. The blindfold was still on, and I tore it off, shielding my eyes from the sudden brightness of the room. The clothes I’d worn to the hotel weren’t there, but on the table across the room sat some shopping bags and a silver tray.

I limped across the carpet, feeling the discomfort in every step. I’d never been so sore.

When I reached the table, I found a note.



Brighton,

You looked too beautiful to wake this morning, but I would like another photo today.

Oh, and don’t make any plans for next weekend. You’ll be spending it all with me.



The paper fluttered from my fingers as I collapsed into the chair with a groan. I could barely walk after one night with him, and now he wanted an entire weekend. And how could he call me beautiful when he’d just left me tied to the bed last night after his cruel parting words? I didn’t understand it at all.

If he thought he was getting another photo of his marks on me, he was crazy.

I lifted the silver lid and found an assortment of cold breakfast foods. Fruit, granola, and a yogurt adorned the tray and my stomach growled in response. I hadn’t eaten dinner last night.

I ate it all, more ravenous than I’d ever been. The whole time I was chewing, my eyes kept darting to the shopping bags. They had the name Barneys imprinted on the side, and my fingers were itching to see what was inside of them.

But they shouldn’t have been. Was he buying me clothes now?

I snorted at the thought. It was probably something much more sinister, disguised in a nice package. I laid my curiosity to rest as I dumped all the contents onto the table.

Dresses. Lingerie. Shoes.

It was all there. And it must have cost a fortune. I was disgusted, and yet the little girl inside of me who had always loved fashion wanted to be excited. When I checked the soles of the shoes, they were red.

Red.

It could only mean one thing. I was going color blind.

How could he spend this much money on me when he insisted I was just something to be used? Unredeemable, as he said last night. Did he actually… feel sorry?

No. Absolutely not. I wasn’t going to make excuses for him or his erratic behavior. There was only one person who could answer those questions, and that was a trained psychologist.

As for me, I just had to get through the rest of this game. Five months and three more weeks.

I sighed as I walked to the bathroom to take a shower. At least I would be blackmailed in red bottomed shoes. That obviously made all the difference.



***



I sent him a picture.

I wasn’t proud of it, but after seeing how much he’d spent on me, the guilt ate away at me. It always did whenever someone did anything remotely nice. I didn’t like to depend on anyone or feel like I owed them. It was the one rule my mother had drilled into our heads. I would never forget the time I borrowed a cup of sugar from the neighbor and the ass beating that ensued from it.

Norma-Jean spat her stale cigarette breath in my face when she told me I was never to borrow anything from anyone. Either I could afford it on my own, or I didn’t have it at all. The irony wasn’t lost on me that she never made rent and relied on Brayden to keep a roof over our heads. But in the mind of Norma-Jean, that was perfectly acceptable.

Needless to say, I’d heeded her rule from there on out. I looked at things, but never bought them. I worked, but never allowed myself luxuries. Every penny went to necessities and the rest went into my savings. Even now if I bought myself something that cost more than twenty dollars, I would usually end up returning it.

So walking into work wearing a casual Valentino dress, I thought for a moment I was going to be sick. The same girl that had snickered at me the day before was in the elevator, and now she was openly glaring. I kept my eyes on the shiny metal until the doors opened and I sprang free.