out of my bedroom.
We lived on the edge of Boulder, Colorado, in a huge estate that backed onto forests and a lake. From the outside it looked like I had it all, including a rich, handsome older brother who doted on me and gave me everything I wanted.
The truth was, since our parents had died, leaving the bulk of their property fortune to Blake, I’d been a virtual prisoner in this home. He monitored my every move, my food intake—”no Lawsons are fat, Brooklyn!”—my phone, and my friends.
Whenever Dylan messaged, I had to devise a new excuse to leave. I hadn’t had a chance to work on today’s, but I’d think of something. Hopefully, Blake would go out for some business, and all I’d have to do is get past the security on the outside. No one disturbed me in my room except for my brother.
When I reached the staircase, I let my fingertips trace across the smooth, highly polished timber handrail. Our family home was beautiful, thanks to my mother’s decorating genius. It was open and light with lots of sunlight streaming through high windows, warming my face as I hurried downstairs. Jumping the last three steps, I winced as my bare feet protested before I raced across the marble foyer and into the large, wood-paneled office off to the right.
Blake sat behind his monstrosity of a desk, allegedly carved from a thousand-year-old tree. “Everything okay?” I asked, trying not to puff too loudly. I really needed to start jogging or some shit because my cardio was woeful.
Dark, angry eyes met mine, and I gulped down my next words, going very still.
“Melody McCane phoned me,” he said softly, fingers pressed together in front of him, his broad shoulders filling out the dark leather chair that he sat in. “Apparently she saw you out yesterday. In the mall.”
I couldn’t speak. Every part of me was frozen in place as my mind raced desperately for what to say to defuse the fuckload of trouble I was in. Blake leaned further onto his desk, and I realized he was dressed in a suit, like he’d been about to head into his offices in the downtown area. Clearly the call had held him up, and he hated that more than anything.
“Uh,” I cleared my throat, “I needed some supplies for school. I told Mary.”
Mary had been my nanny growing up, and now she worked as our housekeeper slash head chef. She was the only person in this house I loved, and the only one who tried to make my life happier. I had to be very careful not to get her into trouble, but I knew Blake would never fire her. She was one of the very few people he could use to make me complicit. If I rebelled, he’d hurt her, and I would never take the risk.
“Mary does not get final say in where you go,” he said as he stood, shrugging off his jacket and draping it over the desk. He ran a hand through his ice-blond hair, the exact same shade as mine. Blake, though, unlike me, kept his cropped close to his head to stop the waves from showing. Our hair was the only obvious similarity between us, since otherwise I was short and curvy with hazel eyes... and Blake was a monster. Tall, strong, and scary. His eyes were very dark brown, and they inspired the sort of terror that kept me up at night.
He rolled his sleeves as he walked around the desk, and I trembled, wanting desperately to leave but knowing that would only make it worse later.
He closed the door, the soft snick of the lock ominous but expected.
He walked toward me. “What’s our number one rule, Brooklyn?”
To anyone else, that quiet, calm voice would not have instilled terror, but to me, it was the beginning of the end…
The first hit slammed into my ribs, and I bit my lip, forcing myself not to cry out. This was our new game, one where I didn’t make a sound and he tried to invent new ways to make me scream.
“What is our fucking rule?” he growled.
Part of me, a defiant part that he’d been trying to beat out of me for five years, rose up, and I wanted to ignore his question. But then I remembered the text from Dylan and the escape that would be mine if I didn’t force Blake to beat me unconscious, so I played the game.
“Blake decides everything,” I said