Cruel Games: A Dark Romance (Dark Obsession), page 11
Soon, love. Soon this will all be over, and you’ll be mine.
The moment I pulled up to her house, she opened the door and jumped out before I had even brought the car to a full stop. She raced up the front steps. I followed at a slower pace. When I joined her, she was standing very still staring at the door handle.
She then turned uncertain eyes up to me. “I think I’m just going to stay at my friend’s house instead.”
I reached around her and opened the door. “You’re staying here in your own bed. Don’t worry. I will make sure you’re safe.”
Her mother came flying into the hallway. “You fucking bitch! You’ve ruined—” She stopped her tirade the moment she saw me. Her disgustingly overfilled lips formed a grotesque pout as she tried to soften her vodka-soaked expression and appear concerned. She stretched out her arms. “Oh, Rory, I was so worried.”
Aurora cringed and shifted closer to me. I wrapped a comforting arm around her waist as I spoke sternly to her mother. “Get away from her.”
“She’s my daughter!”
“In name only. I’ll say this only once, if you don’t step back and leave Aurora alone, I’ll make sure that every influential door in this city is slammed shut in your face.” I knew her kind. She thrived on attention and her social standing. She knew she may be able to play the unaware victim when word of her husband’s embezzlement came out, but she wouldn’t survive a damning response from me.
Her eyes narrowed and her entire demeanor changed. Gone was the false sense of worry, replaced by a cold, calculating glare. “My, my, quite the protector you have here in Mr. Winterbourne, Rory. I wonder what you had to do to inspire such… devotion.”
Aurora stiffened as if her mother had physically struck her.
I looked down at Aurora. “It was simple really. She just had to survive being raised by a drunken hyena of a mother.”
Her response was cut off by the appearance of Alfred, staggering into the hallway carrying a half empty glass of straight whiskey in one hand, a bloody kitchen towel in the other. “You cunt, I’m pressing charges and having you thrown—Mr. Winterbourne! What are you—” He gestured toward Aurora. “Whatever lies that lying bitch is telling you are all lies.”
I placed my hands on Aurora’s shoulders and turned her to face me. I gave her a kiss on the top of her head. “I want you to go upstairs and go to bed, you have school in the morning.”
She nodded numbly, continuing to cast worried glances in her parents’ direction.
I cradled her chin and directed her gaze back to mine. “Don’t worry about them. Do as you are told.” I then leaned down and whispered in her ear, “Don’t bathe. I want to know you are sleeping with my scent still on your skin. If you defy me, I will know.”
She stared at me.
“Say ‘yes, Roman,’” I prodded.
“Yes, Roman,” she whispered. I liked the sound of my name on her lips.
“Go.”
Without sparing another look at her parents, Aurora walked past them and up the stairs. I would check the video monitors I had secretly placed around her house later to make sure she had obeyed. I wasn’t angry with my decision to not have them monitored by a member of my staff. I didn’t want anyone else looking at Aurora. Still, if they had been monitored, I could have caught Alfred in the act of assaulting her. It would have ruined my plans but been worth it to have strangled the man with my bare hands in that moment.
I looked between Alfred and Meredith. Nodding toward Meredith, I said to Alfred, “Get rid of her. We need to talk.”
Meredith squawked and objected but in the end, she was persuaded to return to the living room by one of their maids who offered to bring her another martini.
I followed Alfred into his study. He moved directly to the bar and poured us both a drink. I took the glass he offered and set it aside. I didn’t drink sub-par whiskey.
The gash on his head had long stopped bleeding. Yet he hadn’t changed out of his clothes; both his shirt collar and light gray suit jacket had drops of blood on them. Alfred took a long swallow of whiskey. “So have you decided what you’re going to do?”
I folded my gloved hands before me. “You mean if I’m going to expose you to the media, and by extension everyone you know, for your embezzlement, by having you arrested?”
He huffed as he paced from one end of the study to the other. “See here, Winterbourne. I’m turning a blind eye to whatever sick things you’re doing to my beloved daughter, the least you could do is work with me over this… misunderstanding… You got your money back… most of it.”
Beloved daughter?
I picked a piece of lint off my sleeve. “Do you know Malcom Wright?”
Alfred stilled. “Yes. I heard what happened to him today.”
I raised an eyebrow as I stared at him, saying nothing.
Alfred wiped his sweating brow with the bloody towel. “That was you?”
“And I’m not finished with him yet. It’s over, Alfred. You’re done.”
He sank into a chair. “What am I going to do?”
“You will become a bankrupt laughingstock unable to work.” I glanced around the study. “I’ll take the house of course, and all your cars and the boat. Your wife’s jewelry and anything and everything of value you own.”
“I’ll have nothing. My wife will leave me.”
“Don’t forget, she’ll have nothing as well. I cannot imagine it would be easy snagging another man at her age, especially when I’m done eviscerating her to all of high society. She won’t be invited to a spilled cup of tea let alone Buckingham’s annual garden tea party.”
Alfred drained his glass and poured another. “Please, Winterbourne. You have to help me.”
I reached into my pocket. My fingers wrapped around the barrel of the gun. I pulled it free and set it on the edge of the desk. “I think you know what you have to do.”
Alfred stared at the gun, then swallowed his entire drink in one gulp.
I continued pushing him. “You don’t want to see your wife miserable and poor, do you? You don’t want to face the humiliation of being turned away from your clubs, of being led away in handcuffs on the news? Think of the embarrassment.”
Alfred continued to stare at the gun, not saying a word.
I tapped the desk near the gun. “This would solve both you and your wife’s problems. Do this and your secret dies with you. Your image will be preserved.”
Alfred turned glassy eyes to me. He swayed slightly on his feet as he approached the desk. He leaned heavily on the edge as he stared down at the weapon.
I picked up the whiskey glass and crossed to the bar. I poured the contents into the small brass bar sink and wiped the glass dry with a cocktail napkin. There was no point in alerting anyone to the fact that Alfred had additional company in his study this evening.
“As I see it, it’s the only way out,” I said as I opened the study door. “Or tomorrow, I send out a press release and alert the authorities. Your choice.”
After crossing over the threshold, I turned and glanced back into the dim interior of the study.
Alfred was standing there with the gun in his hand.
CHAPTER 17
AURORA
I sat upright in bed. My eyes strained to see the outline of the furniture in my room. Everything was dark and still. I flattened a hand over my rapidly beating heart. Something had awoken me. I held my breath and listened for any more sounds, but there was nothing.
I lay back down and pulled the covers up to my chin. Shifting to lie on my side, I drew my knees up and winced. The soreness reminded me of Roman. His hands. His mouth. His… thing.
It had taken me forever to fall asleep. I replayed in my mind what had happened in his office over and over again until it was a surreal movie involving faceless actors and not me. I kept trying to convince myself it hadn’t happened. That hadn’t been me. I hadn’t lost my virginity on a conference table after firing a gun at the head of a man I had a fascination with, yet hatred for. No. Nope. Absolutely not. It hadn’t happened.
I shifted again. The fingermark bruises on my inner thighs ached. A distressing reminder that it had happened. It was real. All of it. Roman Winterbourne had fucked me within an inch of my life in his office just a few hours ago. And to make matters worse, he hadn’t used a condom. What the fuck had I been thinking? I wasn’t on birth control. My mother thought it was a waste of time since the best way to secure a wealthy man was to get knocked up. I was so determined not to follow in her footsteps and yet here I was, technically not out of school yet, having sex with a man almost twice my age with no protection.
I sighed and sat up. There was no freaking way I was getting any sleep tonight.
I stopped and listened again.
Still only silence.
I couldn’t shake the nagging feeling that something had woken me up.
What if we were being burgled? Oh, God! Alfred and my mother were probably passed out drunk by now. They wouldn’t be any help. None of the servants lived with us, so it was up to me to investigate.
I reached for my phone to call nine nine nine. It wasn’t there. I closed my eyes and groaned. Fuck. I must have left it in Roman’s office, which meant my determination to never set eyes on the man again would have to wait until I got it back.
I threw the covers off and got out of bed. I was still wearing Roman’s oversized white dress shirt. It reached down past my knees. I wasn’t obeying his order to go directly to bed. I wasn’t. I definitely wasn’t. I just hadn’t felt like changing. I sighed again. I couldn’t even convince myself of that fact. Damn the man.
I opened my bedroom door and listened. There was nothing but quiet stillness. I crept down the stairs and peeked over the banister into the kitchen. Through the darkness I could see the broken martini glass from earlier and several empty vodka bottles. Mother must have ordered the staff out after I left, which was why the kitchen was in complete disarray. It was silly really. She normally ordered the staff to leave when she wanted to drink even more than usual, to preserve her reputation from slander. As if it wasn’t a known secret among the staff that she was a raging alcoholic.
When I got to the bottom of the stairs, I stopped to listen again. There were no sounds of movement. I scurried over to the front door and checked that it was locked. It wasn’t unusual for Alfred and my mother to get drunk and forget to lock it before going to bed. I tugged on the handle. It was locked and secured.
There didn’t seem to be anyone about and especially no burglar.
I peered into the darkness of the front sitting room. Nothing seemed amiss. I made my way down the hall. My music room was undisturbed. Realizing I was being silly, I decided to return to bed. As I passed Alfred’s closed study door, I hesitated. I usually wasn’t allowed inside but there was still a niggling doubt. Something had woken me up. In the back of my mind I was certain it had been a loud noise, perhaps two.
I held my breath as I grasped the doorknob and slowly turned it.
Cracking the door open just wide enough for me to look inside, I let out a sigh of relief when it looked empty. Just as I was closing the door, a flash of lightning struck outside, illuminating the room.
I screamed in terror.
Slumped over his desk at an awkward, unnatural angle was Alfred.
I threw the door open and ran inside. As I entered, my foot slipped and I fell. As I braced myself with a palm on the floor to stand up, I slipped on something sticky and warm. There was another flash of lightning as I raised my hand before my face. It was dripping with blood. I crawled on my knees over to the wall, slipping two more times. I flicked the light switch, turned my head, and screamed again.
My mother was lying in front of the desk. Her sightless eyes open.
I had slipped in the blood from her head wound, which had pooled near the door.
Stifling a sob, I crawled around her body over to the desk. With a shaking hand, I reached for the phone and dialed nine nine nine.
“What’s your emergency?”
I forced my stiff lips to move. “I need help.”
“What’s your emergency?”
“Please, I need help. My mother is…”
“What is your location?”
I looked down at Roman’s dress shirt. It was covered in blood. My mother’s blood. “Please, help.”
“What is your location?”
Somehow, I forced my brain to work and gave the dispatcher my address. I dropped the phone and scurried back, away from both bodies. I leaned against the wall and just stared.
Somewhere in the distance, I could hear sirens.
In the back of my mind, I knew I should unlock the front door for the police, but I couldn’t make my limbs move.
It only took a few minutes before I heard someone banging on the door. After a few moments, there was a loud bang and a crash. Then the sounds of booted feet in the hallway. “Police! Call out! Police! Call out! Is anyone here?”
“I’m here,” I whispered, keeping my gaze focused on my mother’s sightless eyes.
“Police! Call out!”
I inhaled a deep breath and shouted, “Here!”
Two police officers appeared in the study doorway. “Jesus Christ. Call it in, John,” said one officer as he surveyed the macabre scene.
The same officer kneeled before me. “Miss? Miss, are you hurt? Is this your blood?”
I numbly shook my head.
“What is your name?”
I swallowed past the bile in my mouth and rasped, “Rory.”
“Okay, Rory, my name is Officer Matthews. Can you tell me what happened?”
I shook my head again as my vision blurred with tears. “I don’t know. I don’t know. I don’t—”
“It’s okay. It’s okay. Can you stand?”
Without waiting for me to respond, the officer helped me to my feet and escorted me out of the room and into the kitchen.
After that, the entire house erupted into a hive of activity. There were more officers, the paramedics, the coroner. Blue and white police tape crisscrossed the study and the entrance to the house.
At some point an unshaven man in a wrinkled suit approached me. He looked decidedly annoyed to have been roused from his bed in the middle of the night. “Miss Barlowe, my name is DCI Casen. Do you feel well enough to answer some questions?”
I nodded as a medic placed one of those strange tinfoil blankets over my shoulders.
I wasn’t much help. I told DCI Casen how I had gone to bed and been awoken by a sound and that was when I found the… bodies.
Another man in a suit approached us and pulled DCI Casen to the side. I pretended to look away as I listened to their conversation.
“Bullet to the head for one of them. Direct center of the chest for the other.”
“Murder?”
The man shrugged. “Possibly suicide but can’t be sure.”
“Unlikely. How many suicides have you seen where they shoot themselves in the chest, not the head?”
The man shook his head. “None.”
They both turned and stared at me. Unease tightened my chest.
DCI Casen motioned for a forensics tech to approach us. He then turned to me. “Miss Barlowe, I’m going to need to swab your hands for gunshot residue. It’s just procedure. Nothing to worry about.”
I stared as the forensic tech put on a pair of rubber gloves and then prepared a swab. He lifted my left hand and swabbed the palm, then the back and my fingers. He sprayed something on the swab and turned to DCI Casen and shook his head. He then swabbed my right hand. The moment he sprayed the swab it turned color. Both men stilled, then turned to stare at me.
At first, I didn’t realize what was happening. There was no way I had shot my parents, so there was no way my hands could have gunshot residue on them.
Then I remembered firing the gun in Roman’s office… oh, God!
My lower lip trembled. “I can explain.”
DCI Casen frowned. “Later.” He motioned for a female officer to approach us. He gestured toward me. “Take her upstairs. I want all her clothing bagged as evidence.”
Just then, the second detective approached DCI Casen again. In his hand was a clear plastic evidence bag with a gun in it. A gun that looked suspiciously like the one from Roman’s office, but that was impossible. That gun was still on his conference table back in his office—wasn’t it?
I didn’t protest as the female officer led me away. Without saying a word, I walked up the stairs and into my bedroom. My cheeks burned as she stated she needed to observe me disrobing. Not having the energy to object, I peeled off Roman’s bloody shirt and placed it into the large plastic bag she held open.
“Your panties too.”
I swallowed a sob and pulled off my panties, holding my arms over my bare breasts. “Can I get dressed?”
The female officer nodded.
I went over to my closet and pulled on my favorite blue hoodie. I stopped as I pulled on a pair of yoga pants. There was still dried blood on my hands, legs, and feet. Knowing they probably wouldn’t let me get a shower, I reluctantly pulled the pants on and then a pair of warm socks and sneakers.
As I was escorted back downstairs, DCI Casen approached. He held out his phone. On the screen was my Instagram account. He highlighted my last post from earlier tonight. “Is this your social media account, Miss Barlowe?”
My asshole stepfather and mother deserve everything that is coming to them.
#notsorry #fuckthem
It was in that moment that I knew I was in real trouble.
CHAPTER 18
ROMAN
I watched from a distance as two police officers guided Aurora into the back of their car. I waited until they had driven a distance down the street before I pulled away from the curb. There was no need to rush, I knew where they were taking her.
Aurora was sitting in an interview room when I arrived. She looked so small and vulnerable as she hunched over a paper cup filled with tea, the foil blanket still around her shoulders. The pale skin of her hands had traces of dried blood on them. Her usually expressive bright blue eyes were vacant.
