Toxic - Zoe Blake Page 0,5

she didn’t lie directly to my face. When Richard had instructed Jane to bring a message to his henchman Harris, I was certain it had meant he would have had her killed for trying to talk sense to me.

“Dead? What a dramatic imagination! I think you’re taking your role a little too seriously.”

“Did you know? What was happening to me?”

Jane’s fingers dug into my upper arm as she dragged me over to the sofa. Her eyes darted about the room as if she were worried someone was overhearing our conversation. Her voice sounded high and brittle as she forced a casual tone. “What do you mean? Did I know you landed a handsome, uber-rich duke who loved you to distraction and was making all your dreams come true? Yeah, of course. I’m jealous as hell.”

“That’s not what I meant. Why are you avoiding answering?”

Ignoring me, Jane continued on. Speaking loudly, more to the room than me. “You are way better of an actress than I gave you credit for. The way you embraced your role. I had no idea you were so method! It was so James Dean of you.”

“Jane—”

“Thanks for convincing the duke to give me the parlor maid part. It was only a walk-on but I think I made the best of it.”

Placing my wine down on the glass coffee table, I turned my body to face her. “What the fuc—”

“I don’t have to tell you how pissed Mike was when he learned that night that they had cut his role. He was hoping to stay for the complete season run,” she clamored feverishly on.

My cheeks burned as an unbidden memory came back to me.

Richard ordering me to my knees in front of Mike. Me willingly opening my mouth, so Richard could plunge his thick cock in so deep and hard I choked and couldn’t breathe. Over and over again he would thrust, all the while staring arrogantly at Mike.

I know now that not all of what I experienced was real, but my supplication and subsequent public humiliation were definitely real.

“We weren’t on some stupid television show, Jane! He kidnapped me!”

The stem of Jane’s wineglass snapped in two as she slammed it onto the coffee table.

Then she lunged for me.

I was too shocked to react; she had me pinned against the arm of the sofa, her hand firmly over my mouth, before I could do anything to stop her.

Frantically looking around the room, her eyes wild and unfocused, she exclaimed, “You look terrible. How about a nice hot shower? Then we’ll order some take-away.”

With her staring down at me, I nodded my head, trying to signal I understood. She dragged her hand away. “Yes. A shower sounds like just what I need,” I said calmly as I stood on shaking legs.

Silently, Jane led the way through the enormous master bedroom into the bath. Like the kitchen countertop, there were sleek black marble counters and floors, and rather gaudy brass fixtures.

Placing a finger to her lips, Jane reached past me and turned on the shower as well as the sink faucet.

“What the fuck is going on, Jane?”

Jane waved her hands. “Keep your voice down.”

“What the fuck?” I whispered harshly.

“I could ask you the same thing,” she accused, hands on hips. “Are you trying to ruin a good thing?”

Pacing the small confines of the bathroom, I rounded on her. “Do you have any idea what I’ve been through these last few months?”

“You mean, did I know you’ve had gorgeous gowns, a king’s ransom in jewelry, and a small army of servants at your beck and call on top of a hot as hell, sex on a stick, rich boyfriend who was fucking you sideways every chance he got? Yeah, I knew,” Jane fired back spitefully.

“Judge-y! And no, it wasn’t all like that,” I countered defensively as I crossed my arms over my chest. She was making me wonder if I was being overly dramatic. Had I let my imagination run away with me? Maybe I was remembering the events of the last few months wrong? Had I let my anger cloud my already shaky memory?

It was all a jumble. I remembered diamonds and silks and lazy afternoons filled with pleasure in bed with Richard. I also remembered leather and whips and nights filled with terror and pain.

What was real?

Digging my fingers into my hair, I pressed my palms against my head and resisted the urge to scream.

“Look, you obviously had a fight with Richard—”

My snort of derision interrupted her.

Giving me