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“Thought we’d go to Camden,” Adele says, no doubt registering my surprise. There are several nightclubs within easy walking distance of the apartment. “There’s a new club I want to check out.”
“So you ordered a Mercedes?” It seems a bit extravagant to me.
“It’s a special occasion.”
“So you ordered a Mercedes?” I hate to think what that must have cost. I hope she doesn’t expect me to pay half. It wouldn’t be the first time she splashed out and then asked for a contribution later.
“It’s a special occasion.”
“What special occasion?” I ask, but she’s already shoving me into the car. “I haven’t forgotten your birth…th..day?” Shit, are my words slurring? What is wrong with me?
“No, not my birthday. It’s payday.”
“Payday?” She gets her meagre income from her father. “You don’t have a job.”
“Of course I do.”
I frown, wondering what she’s talking about and why she isn’t getting into the car.
“I’ve been babysitting you.”
“Babysitting?” I try to drag myself out of the car, but my limbs are heavy and I feel incredibly sleepy.
“Yes, I’ve been watching you until he was ready to take you.”
Through the fog of what I now realize is a drug-induced haze, I feel a twinge of panic. “Adele, what have you done? I don’t want to go home. Tell Jason….>”
“Jason? I don’t work for that little prick?”
My forehead creases. At least, I think it does. I can’t really feel my face now. “Then who?”
“I think you can guess, Cara.”
I shake my head, the movement making me even dizzier, because what pops into my head just isn’t possible. “Alex..Alexander?”
Adele grins maliciously. “That’s right. Alexander Shaw. You’re his now. I hope he tears you to pieces.”
She slams the door shut. I try to open it, but it’s locked. As the car moves off, my eyes roll back. My head feels heavy and I slip into a deep, dark place.
Chapter3
Alexander
The young woman lying on the bed before me is even more beautiful than she was three years ago. She’s filled out in all the right places. Her breasts are fuller, her hips a little rounder, but she’s still delicate, breakable. The silver dress she wears doesn’t suit her. It’s like armor, something she bought to pass herself off as something she’s not. It makes me want to strip the dress from her body and get to the truth of who she is.
Her beautiful blonde hair fans out across the pillow and there’s a crease at the bridge of her nose that suggests her sleep is troubled. I can’t wait for her to open her eyes, so I can see if the green is as vibrant as I recall. I wonder what I’ll see in them when she learns I intend to use her to exact my revenge on her family. Will it be fear or excitement? She’s stayed away from home for three years, had little contact with her father. Perhaps she’ll revel in his destruction.
I lean forward in my seat as Cara finally wakes. I was starting to think Adele had given her too high a dose of the sedative. She’s been out for over eighteen hours, not stirring once as she was driven all the way to the north of Scotland. She opens her eyes and blinks a couple of times. Her head swivels as she looks around the room, and then she freezes as she spots me. She pushes herself up into a seated position and tries to tug her dress down to cover her legs.
“You’re alive.”
It’s a facile observation, unworthy of a response, so I simply raise an eyebrow. Her voice, I noted, was a little croaky, so I nod toward the glass of water on the nightstand by the bed. She picks up the glass and gulps it down. It’s very trusting of her, since I already had her drugged once, a necessity to get her here with the minimum fuss.
“Where are we?” she asks as she sets the glass down again.
“Drumblair Castle.”
She nods, as though she expected that answer. “Why am I here?”
