Beautiful Hell: A Contemporary High School Bully Romance Page 26

  As though hearing my thoughts turning in my head, Elias takes a hold of my hand, squeezing it gently as he explains even further. “That’s how he knew I was there,” he says. “Janelle’s only been using the company telephone and your dad saw to it that every message and every phone call she made could be monitored by him without her knowledge. But none of that, Kira, is anything compared to what he did to you.”

  I nod, tears pricking their way through.

  “He needs to pay for what he did to you,” Elias adds. He isn’t wrong. He’s not fucking wrong. And the realization of that, the truth of everything that’s happened invokes the kind of pain that almost feels crippling. “But I don’t want you to think that you’re alone, Kira, because you’re not.”

  Our eyes meet, and I know he means it. Still, heart hurts in the most painful way, because never in a million years would I think that this is what my family would come down to. A dead mother and a father who might as well be six-feet under.

  “Where are my clothes?” I ask, my voice raspy.

  He frowns. “Here,” he says and pulls forward a backpack. “but you’re not going anywhere.”

  “Just… give me the clothes, Elias. Please…”

  “Kira. The doctors need to make sure you’re fully okay before they can discharge you.”

  “Just give me the bag, Elias.”

  “Kira…you can’t leave.”

  “And I also can’t allow my father to hurt me again,” I say, this time, not bothering to stop the tears that stream down my cheeks.

  Sighing, he hands the bag over.

  Fumbling through my clothes, I find my pants, stick my hands into the left pocket and fish out a matchbox. I give it to Elias. “I found this in his study,” I tell him. “He told the police he never set foot in Baltimore…”

  Elias checks the matchbox, then looks at the inside cover. I can see the blood draining from his face. “601…”

  “I’m pretty sure it’s Joe’s room number at the Red Herring,” I reply.

  “Kira,” he says, not looking half as excited as I expected him to, which is a good thing, I guess.

  “You have the proof you need,” I say to him. “You have your smoking gun.”

  “He’s still your dad,” Elias says.

  I smooth my hand over my lip, feeling the sting from the cut my father left me with. Anger pools in the pit of my stomach once again. “Unfortunately,” I answer.

  Elias moves closer, merely a breath left between us. I see the glow in his green eyes. Flames conjured by alchemists burn in them. It’s love. The kind of love most girls only ever dream of. Few of us are lucky enough to come upon it. I, for one, never expected to receive it from him.

  It’s so powerful, so bright… I can feel it spreading inside me. Repairing. Healing. Soothing every atom of my being. As I look at him, something tells me that no matter how much I’m hurting now, I’m going to be okay.

  Epilogue

  If you were to look at me, you wouldn’t see the parts of me that are broken. On the outside, everything is okay. The bruises have healed. My smile knows how to find its place. But on the inside…there’s a whole lot of broken.

  A month has passed since his indictment for Joe Fowler’s murder, along with a string of other financial crimes, including what he did to me. The police put an injunction on all of his accounts, but they’ve stayed away from the house.

  There’s a secret safe my dad keeps in his bedroom. I emptied it before the house was searched. There was a lot of cash inside. Enough to keep me comfortable until I turn twenty-one and gain access to my trust fund. I’ve suffered enough because of William Malone. I don’t intend to suffer anymore.

  I’m in the visiting room now. There’s no plexiglass screen, but the guard left the cuffs on my father, making sure he can’t do anything stupid. I shouldn’t be here, but I think, in order to really heal, it’s a step I have to make. I’m getting rid of all the baggage. Staring my fears in the face and proving to myself that they can’t hurt me anymore. He can’t hurt me anymore.

  “Kira,” Dad says, unable to look at me. “You shouldn’t be here.”

  I’ve spent days and nights wondering about what I would tell him… about how this conversation would go. I’ve channeled years of suffering and loneliness and bad decisions into this singular moment. It’s time I let it all go.

  “It’s probably the last time you’ll see me before your next court appearance,” I reply, straightening my back.

  Dad finally raises his gaze. There is shame in his eyes. Defeat. But I don’t see an inkling of regret. He’s not sorry for what he did. He’s too proud and ambitious to experience such emotions. He’s just sorry he got caught. Sorry that I was strong enough to raise my voice. Sorry that I was hateful enough to go scavenging through his office for evidence. And shocked shitless that I found something and that I actually had it in me to help take him down.

  “I’ve spent my whole life trying to please you. I allowed your hatred for the Dresslers to poison me, too. I have been blind for too long, and I’m pleased to say that I can see everything with incredible clarity now,” I say, my tone unwavering. “You hurt me dad. Not just physically, but emotionally too. I want to tell you that I’m working on forgiving you. But I’m not sure I ever will…” I pause and fix my gaze on his. “I don’t think I want to forgive you,” I tell him.

  “You fucked him in my house—” Dad says. “You fucked him in my house and then you fucked me over.”

  “No dad. You fucked yourself over.”

  A muscle twitches in his jaw, and I shoot him a cold grin. “You’re here to make me miserable, huh?”

  “Everything that’s happening now is a direct consequence of your actions. No one is to blame, except you.”

  The look on his face is fucking priceless. I should feel sorry for him, but I can’t. This is the man who raised me, and I will always be thankful for the financial comfort. For everything else, however… there is nothing. Just resentment and the hope that he’ll never set foot outside the state prison ever again.

  His calmness evaporates. He explodes in a fit of fury, reaching out to grab me. I jump back, my heart pounding. The prison guard takes him down, though, slamming his head into the table.

  “You bitch! You ungrateful little bitch!” Dad snarls, and I know he means it.

  This is the real him. It has always been this. Vitriol. Hatred. Monstrosity. I don’t know how this fiend had a part in my creation, but I am thankful I got more from my mother’s side than from him. At least it’s over.

  “By the way, dad. Since you’re in such a pleasant mood, I thought you should know, we’re considering merging with Dressler,” I say, casually walking out of the visiting room.

  He’s still shouting and hurling insults at me, and tears are pricking my eyes… but I keep my head up high, and I walk forward and farther away from him. This is the end of the road for William Malone. He’s lost everything. He has nothing. I’m still broken, yes. But at least there is hope for me.

  The Nutcracker opens tonight. We’re two days away from Christmas Eve, and I’m a nervous, bumbling mess. It’s early morning, and I have to get to Trinity High for one last round of rehearsals and costume fittings. Madame Olenna will kill me if I show up late.

  “It’s barely eight,” Elias says, pouring himself a cup of coffee in the open plan kitchen. I’ve gotten used to living in his house. It’s slightly bigger than mine, but it’s brighter, more airy. There’s hope embedded in these walls, along with compassion and cautiousness. “You don’t need to be there before eleven.”

  “Yeah, but I want to make sure everything is perfect, you know?” I reply, padding across the kitchen floor in my black satin robe. The morning chill slips through the open windows, but I love it. It makes me feel alive. It wasn’t the easiest decision to pick everything up and move in here – even if I keep saying this is temporary. But it also wasn’t the hardest decision in the world. Plus, I’ve got Margaret with me, so at least a litt
le piece of ‘home’ remains.

  “I doubt anyone is even going to be there to help you with anything,” Elias says, watching me with dark green eyes as I grab a mug from the cupboard and join him by the counter, eager for a fresh cup of joe.

  “Admit it, you just want to keep me here for a little while longer,” I chuckle, as he pours coffee into my mug. He’s not dressed yet, proudly strutting around in his grey briefs. I guess it’s why the maids and even Margaret steer clear of the kitchen every day at this hour. They obviously know they’re better off averting their eyes than getting Elias to put some clothes on.

  He slips an arm around my waist, while I try to add some milk to my coffee. I can’t, losing focus as soon as his fingers start fumbling with the satin cordon that keeps the robe together. “The thought did cross my mind,” he whispers, his lips brushing against my ear. The tingly sensation amplifies and expands through my body.

  It becomes increasingly harder to focus. I should give up on the idea of coffee, for the time being. Elias’s hand gets under my robe next, his fingers tugging my panties aside. I’m still, hands gripping the edge of the counter. I know where this is going, and I love it.

  “I’m just not tired of loving you, yet, Kira,” Elias says, dropping hot, wet kisses down my neck. It’s enough to get my engines roaring. Every morning, we struggle like this. One of us tries to leave, and the other just flips the right switches. Every morning, we descend into crazy and relentless lovemaking, until we’re tired and sweaty and breathless… drowning in bliss.

  “Baby, I doubt I’ll ever be bored with you,” I reply, smiling as his fingers spread my wet folds, and he starts massaging my swollen nub. “Ah…”

  “Kira, there’s something I want to show you,” he says, suddenly pulling back.

  For a moment, I feel cold and naked and abandoned, until I realize it’s just the morning draft coming from the garden. I will never feel alone, ever again. Not while Elias is around.

  “Okay…” I murmur, and he takes my hand, guiding me out of the kitchen. “My coffee…”

  “Honey, coffee is the last thing I want right now.”

  We both chuckle as we go upstairs. He stops in front of the narrow black door. I have never asked him about it. I know it’s locked, so I’ve been respectful of his privacy. My heart jumps, as I’m already curious. Of course, I’ve long since wanted to know what’s in there. Obviously, today is that day!

  “There’s something I need to show you,” Elias says, briefly looking at me as he takes out a key and sticks it into the lock. “A side of me I’ve only showed one other person. Well, she’s the one who brought me into this particular world… but yeah, I need to show you. You need to understand every single part of me, Kira. Even the darkness.”

  I cup his face and pull him into a kiss. “I love every single side of you, Elias. Including the ugly stuff…”

  “Well, I’m not sure how… ugly this actually is, but I know not everyone would approve,” Elias replies, opening the door. He steps aside, allowing me to go in first.

  My breath gets stuck in my throat as I try to take it all in.

  “Oh, wow…” I manage.

  The walls are covered in dark red Damascus wallpaper. The floor is black and fluffy. There’s a bed in the middle. A four-poster bed with long and delicate organza veils stretching around it, in shades of red and black. The bedsheet is made of red silk, and there are metallic rings mounted on different sides of the wooden posts. Cuffs hang from each of these rings.

  Whips are mounted on a wooden plaque, on the wall to my left. Different shapes and sizes, nothing but smooth black leather. To my right, I see other devices on display. Ball gags, anal beads, a plethora of vibrators and dildos. This is BDSM heaven.

  In front of me, just a couple of feet from the open door, is a large wooden X-shaped cross mounted on the floor. Elias walks past me and stops behind it, looking at me.

  “Who’s the first person you ever brought here?” I wonder aloud, taking every detail in as I try to fit this whole room inside the fuller picture that is the real Elias.

  He exhales sharply, and I glance at him. “Do you remember Sarah, by any chance? From the Harry Winston event?”

  I take a minute, digging through my memories of that evening. It was a little over two years ago, and it’s the first I remember of my father asking Joe Fowler about his shares in the company. Yes, I remember Sarah. She was beautiful. Much older than Elias, but gorgeous. A pang of jealousy cuts through my stomach as I give him a weak smile.

  “Yeah, I remember. The MILF.”

  He laughs, throwing his head back. “Right. Yeah. She didn’t have kids, though.”

  “It doesn’t matter. She looked like a MILF.”

  “She fucked like one too,” he says, gripping me around the waist and suffocating his laugh in my neck.

  “You’re a dick,” I give back.

  He spins me around in his arms and presses his forehead to mine. “Only sometimes,” he says, completing his statement with a kiss.

  “Sarah helped me set the room up. I was going through a rough time. I had a lot of pain of my own to process. And…well…she was an expert in alternative pain management.”

  “When was the last time you used the room?” I know he said only one other person was ever allowed in here. But I still feel the need for him to confirm that Giselle was never included in this equation. I don’t know why it matters. Whatever Elias did before me shouldn’t matter. Still, jealousy knows no bounds.

  “It’s been a while,” he says. “Unfortunately, I’ve not been able to find anyone else worthy enough for this room after Sarah left. I’ve found comfort and healing between these four walls, believe it or not. Maybe you’ll be able to find some of that comfort here too.”

  I take one deep breath as I look around. My eyes linger on the dildos. Some of them are huge. I can only imagine the kind of foreplay Elias would have in mind, where those are concerned. It turns me on in ways I’d not thought were possible. In ways I don’t want to be turned on in.

  “Are you scared?” he asks, his voice low, uneasy.

  “What? No…” I manage, swallowing back a knot that’s been swelling in my throat. “I mean… It’s nothing I’ve ever tried before, but…”

  “There is pleasure in pain, Kira,” Elias says. “I’d like to take your pain and turn it into a mind-numbing orgasm.”

  “I’m not going to run, Elias,” I reply, my heart racing.

  Sure, it’s a little overwhelming, but it’s not exactly a shock. The black crystal chandelier hangs above, right between us. Its light dances across the walls, and I can see why the atmosphere can be so intoxicating in this room. Every object here screams pleasure. Raw pleasure. Kinky pleasure. Dark pleasure. All kinds of pleasure…

  He smiles, relief taking the pressure out of his frame, his shoulders relaxing. “But will you come in?”

  I need a minute, but I take my first step inside. Suddenly, I’m in another world. The universe outside this room has vanished. It’s only me, Elias, and red Damascus on the walls, a wooden X standing between us.

  “Kira, close the door,” he says.

  I do just that. “Should I lock it?”

  “Everyone knows not to come in,” Elias replies, smiling as he comes around the cross.

  I let him take my hand as he guides me to it. “What now?” I ask, breathlessly.

  “Now, you let me take over. Do you trust me, Kira?”

  “More than I possibly should,” I say, gazing into his eyes.

  He smiles again and makes me face the wooden cross. He takes each of my hands and ties them with thick rope to the beams. He does the same to my legs, gently tightening each restraint. I’m spread wide, my breasts pressing against the wood. It takes some effort to control my breath, but arousal is unavoidable.

  “I’m going to leave the robe on, but with a few minor adjustments. I like how the satin pours over your skin,” Elias whispers, raising my robe and tying its corners around my wa
ist. My ass is out, a cool breeze tickling my flesh. “The panties, however, they need to go.”

  I turn my head and catch a glimpse of the blade. A pocket knife. My heart jumps as I feel the steel touching my skin. A second later, my panties are cut off and on the floor. The blade disappears, and Elias leans forward to whisper in my ear.

  “Kira, I am going to take good care of you. I’m going to hurt you, and you’re going to love me for it, maybe as much as I love you.”

  “Love me,” I murmur.

  He walks over to the wall panel and comes back with a simple rider’s crop, a lot like the heart-shaped one he first tried on me, back in my room, before the nightmare. Arousal spreads through me like wildfire, because I know what this is going to feel like.

  “Here,” he says, and I feel his swollen cock between my legs. He presses the full length into my wet folds, and I’m humming on the inside. My core tightens as I let a moan escape from my throat.

  “Elias…”

  “You want this?”

  “I do… I want it all…”

  The whip hits my ass, and I yelp from the sharp pain. He rubs his cock against my pussy, slowly, ever so slowly, teasing like the devil that he is. I’m quivering with desire as he whips me again. I hiss and clench.

  It goes on for minutes, and I become increasingly tender, electricity rushing through me and gathering between my legs.

  He runs a hand up and down my back, sometimes feeling the skin, and at other times feeling the satin. His touch is magnetizing. My body tingles. My hips move, reacting to his stiff erection. He’s huge and perfect, and I want him inside me, for the millionth time.

  “Does it hurt?” he asks, as the whip bites into my ass.

  “Oh, god, yes!” I scream, not holding back.

  “Do you want more?”

  “Yes!” I cry out, and he hits me again.

  He chuckles softly, his lips tickling my earlobe.

  A split-second later, he spears me, and I gasp, instantly tightening around his cock. He brings an arm around us and the cross, holding us both against it, pressing as he starts fucking me. Harder and deeper, he takes me to new heights.