This Isn't You, Baby (War & Peace Book 4) Page 5

  “What were you doing down there? Who were you with?”

  I’m still trying to form words when I hear the door close behind me and the lock turn. My heartbeat is thumping so hard in my chest, it nearly hurts.

  “I was just taking a walk,” I lie.

  His heat envelops me and his hands grip my hips from behind. “So you weren’t whoring yourself out with the lawn boy?”

  I jolt at his words. “I, uh, Heath—”

  He pushes me forward, and I fall to my elbows on the bed. A tremor of fear paralyzes me for a moment before I jerk into action. His belt jingles and I scramble to jump off the bed. A strong hand grabs my ankle, yanking me back. My stomach is dragged across the duvet and my nightgown is pushed up, baring my back to him. He yanks my panties down my thighs.

  Surely he’s not about to do what I think he wants to do.

  If he tries to touch me, I’ll tell Duvan.

  The very idea that I see Duvan as someone who could protect me from Heath alarms me.

  “Your panties are drenched with his cum,” Heath seethes.

  I’m about to plead for him to let me go when I hear the swoosh of something cutting through the air a second before pain sears across my ass.

  He whipped me with his belt!

  I scream out in both horror and pain. But Heath is stronger than me. He keeps me pinned to the bed with one hand while he begins whipping me relentlessly with the expensive leather. My flesh stings and burns and I know it will be marred with bruises. The tears I’ve always kept at bay now run freely down my cheeks as if the dam of three years’ worth of pain is being released.

  He beats me until I go limp.

  He whips me until I begin to black out.

  He abuses me until I completely check out.

  “Just a half inch off the ends,” my adopted mother, Izzie, instructs the overpriced hairdresser. “She’s getting married on Saturday and needs to look beautiful.”

  At this point, a marriage to Duvan seems preferable to the monster Heath has become. After he whipped me last night, he carried me upstairs and put me to bed. I woke up as he was dragging the covers over me. When I started crying again, he proceeded to press kisses to the tender flesh he had destroyed. I quickly dried my tears so he would go away.

  And he did.

  Thank God.

  I haven’t seen him since.

  I’m trying to come up with a plan to get away from him so I don’t have to see him ever again.

  “Aren’t you a little young to be getting married?” Mario asks. His perfectly sculpted black eyebrow shoots up his brown face to his hairline.

  I give him a false smile. “I’m seventeen. That’s not even legal, is it?”

  He scoffs, but Izzie swats at me. “Mario, she’s being dramatic. Her birthday is Saturday.”

  Mario narrows his eyes at me in the mirror. “A marriage for your birthday. I mean, I always knew I was a queen, and that was my dream since I came out of the closet at age eight, so I totally get fantasizing over a white wedding, but damn girl, is that what you really want?”

  Izzie pins me with an icy glare.

  I shrug my shoulders and swallow down the emotion choking me. “It will get me out of their house and that’ll be the best birthday present ever,” I murmur. A shudder ripples through me remembering the way Heath hurt me last night. “It’s definitely better than my current situation.”

  Izzie huffs and storms off. “Ungrateful child,” she hisses under her breath before calling out over her shoulder. “Half an inch. I’ll be next door at the restaurant getting a cocktail. Come find me when you’re through.”

  My phone chimes with a text and I don’t recognize the number.

  Unknown: Remember, do whatever the fuck you want with your hair. You don’t belong to him anymore.

  A genuine smile lifts the corners of my lips up. I program his number into the phone and am thankful I have a way to contact him now, in case I run into any more trouble with Heath.

  Me: Do you like Mohawks?

  His response is immediate.

  Duvan: I can assure you that once we’re married, the last thing I’ll be concerned about is your hair.

  I chew on my lip and find Mario reading over my shoulder.

  “Is that the lucky groom to be?” he asks.

  I nod even though it sounds silly. “The one and only.”

  “So the evil bitch wants you keep your hair long and the future husband wants you to do whatever makes you happy?”

  “Pretty much.”

  “What makes you happy, Gabriella?”

  I run my thumb over the glass of my phone. Ren makes me happy. My friends Oscar and Vee make me happy. And…

  Tears well in my eyes. “I don’t know, other than a handful of my friends.”

  Mario lets out a sigh and hands me a magazine. Selena Gomez is on the cover sporting a sexy, messy new hairstyle. It’s shoulder length with lots of layers and side bangs. “It’s never too late to become someone new.”

  I stare at the smiling woman on the page. At one time, I wanted to go to college and do big things with my life. Once I realized I was being groomed for marriage, I stopped caring about anything aside from the few personal relationships I had. I had no hobbies or interests. I just coasted.

  It’s time to stop coasting and take control.

  “This will make me happy,” I tell him and point at the celeb’s stylish cut.

  He winks at me in the mirror. “And it’s going to make me happy to see the look on that witch’s faces when she comes back.”

  Cutting off eight inches of hair truly is freeing.

  Watching a rich, manicured woman have a meltdown that would give most toddlers a run for their money is satisfying.

  And watching the man who thinks he controls your world sling shit off his desk because you disobeyed a direct order is gratifying.

  Ren and I texted back and forth all day. I didn’t mention to him what happened with Heath. I was embarrassed and worried he’d think I was too much trouble. He told me how wonderful it was finally getting to make love to me. I told him about how sore I was but also that I don’t regret a thing. He was supposed to sneak over again to see me tonight but I made up an excuse saying I was really tired. I promised that he could take me out for my birthday tomorrow night. Come hell or high water, I’ll have one last Friday night as a free woman.

  Heath screams and rages and accuses Izzie of being a terrible wife while I ignore him. Duvan has texted me a couple of times today asking about clothing size and food preferences. He hasn’t been awful and I’m thankful. He even told me that my new hairstyle suits me better than the old one when I texted him a picture earlier. It left me with a lingering smile all day.

  Duvan: What do you want for your birthday?

  I want you to kill Heath. The thought has me stifling a giggle.

  Me: I don’t need anything.

  Duvan: I didn’t ask what you needed. I’ll give you what you need…I asked what you wanted.

  While Heath spazzes out on Izzie, I try to think about what I actually want. Nothing. I don’t want anything.

  Me: I don’t want anything.

  Duvan: Are you always this difficult?

  I snort.

  Me: I’m just learning how to be difficult. You’re in for a real surprise. With age comes wisdom.

  “Izzie, leave,” Heath snaps.

  She hastily exits his office and slams the door shut. My phone buzzes, but I’m afraid to look down at it.

  “Are you conversing with that goddamned lawn boy? Did he put you up to not only being a whore, but also into whacking off all your hair against my wishes?” he seethes.

  Rage surges through me. “For your information, I was texting with my future husband.”

  His nostrils flare with fury. “Duvan is more preferable than me? You think you’re going to be so damn happy as his little Colombian princess? Wake up, Gabriella. You’re being sent to the lion’s den. I won’t be able to protect you anymore
.”

  My heart stops in my chest. Not because of his threat. No, fuck that. I’m stunned because he actually believes he’s been protecting me all this time. He was the one I needed protection from!

  Me: Can you come over here? Heath is out of control.

  I hit send and level a glare at Heath. “I’m leaving tonight and I won’t be coming back.”

  He barks out a cold laugh. “Camilo Rojas will have you killed if you walk away from what we’ve been cultivating for three years.”

  His threats don’t bother me. I know how terrifying Camilo can be. But right now, I don’t care. The Rojas family is preferable over this guy.

  “I’ll be back for this sham of a wedding Saturday,” I snap and jerk to my feet. “And then I never want to see you again. You won’t ever be able to hurt me again.”

  Fury twists his features into an angry scowl. He stalks over to me and grabs a fistful of the front of my dress, yanking me to him. “You’ll always belong to me, Gabriella. There’s a bigger plan than you can see. When everything falls back into place, you’ll be right back where you belong.”

  I blink at him in confusion. He releases me with a huff and runs his trembling fingers through his hair.

  “If you ever repeat that, I’ll slit your throat in your sleep.”

  With my phone in my grip, I bolt from his office and down the hallway. I run through the house without slowing. Once I’m outside, I take off down the driveway. The blare of an engine barreling down the road has me slowing. Duvan’s black Challenger whips into the driveway and he’s out of the car the moment he throws it in park.

  I’ve seen Duvan angry with Esteban before, but I’ve never seen him like this—wearing a white tank top, his hair unstyled, a baseball bat in hand, and a look that would frighten even the devil.

  “What the fuck did he do?” he snarls and charges for me.

  Most normal people would probably run at the sight of such a menacing man racing toward them with a baseball bat in his white-knuckled grip.

  Good thing I haven’t been a normal person for a long time.

  I’m scared of the evil that lives inside the home behind me.

  When he nears, I throw myself into his arms and let him hug me. His raging fury seems to simmer because his tense muscles relax.

  “What do you want, tigress?” His breath is still coming out in angry huffs.

  “I want to leave. There’s nothing here for me. Just…” I trail off. “Can you keep me safe?”

  He lets out a possessive growl that warms me.

  “Don’t let her fool you, boy!” Heath yells from the porch. “Your fiancée was off prancing around with the lawn boy last night. She’s no longer as pure as you think she is.”

  Duvan stiffens, and I fear what his reaction will be. He pulls away and tucks me into his side under his arm. In his other hand, he swings around his baseball bat. “We’ve agreed this was a marriage of necessity and not one of exclusivity. She can fool around with whoever she wants as long as when I call for her, she’s there for me.”

  I’m not sure why Duvan is lying for me but I’ll take it.

  “Does your father know you’re okay with your wife being a whore?” Heath fists his hands at his side. As if he’d have an actual chance against the baseball-bat-wielding Colombian god.

  “Does my father know you want to fuck little girls?” Duvan bites back.

  Heath blanches. “Learn your place, boy.” His voice quivers slightly.

  “And understand who truly is in power here,” Duvan snaps, his voice low, his tone deadly.

  They have a silent standoff before Heath storms back into the house. Duvan releases me and points at me with the bat.

  “Get in the car, tigress. If that bastard ever speaks to you like that again, I’m going bash his motherfucking head in with this bat. Got it, babe?”

  I nod and smile at him. “Thank you.”

  His smirk, which used to seem smug and assholish, now seems to be one of his more endearing mannerisms. I find I’m beginning to like it.

  That smirk means he knows he’ll win.

  And when it comes to protecting me from Heath, I need him to win.

  I run the hairbrush through my now short, wet hair and stare at my reflection. Duvan’s staying in a suite at some five-star hotel his dad owns just outside of San Diego. There’s an extra room in the sprawling suite that he’s offered me. The gesture came as a surprise to me. I’d expected Duvan to be villainous and cruel. Abusive maybe. Or that he’d try and force himself on me.

  I never expected him to care.

  “Dinner’s getting cold, tigress,” he calls out from the other side of the bathroom door.

  “Uh, I’m coming!”

  I shrug on the soft, plush white robe over my naked flesh and exit the bathroom. Duvan lies on his side wearing nothing but a pair of jeans. He’s laid our food out on trays on the bed. My eyes flit to his bare skin that’s marked up in beautiful ink. I never knew he had full sleeves on both arms or that his entire chest was covered with them. I’m still staring when he laughs at me.

  “Dinner is over here,” he says pointing. “That’s all that’s on the menu. At least for tonight,” he says with another smirk, his eyes glittering.

  Heat floods my cheeks and I roll my eyes. “I was just looking at your tattoos. I always wanted one.”

  He sits up and lifts a brow. “Of what? Where?”

  I shrug and sit on the bed careful not to flash him under my robe. His eyes skim over my bare thighs before he looks up at me.

  “You don’t know much of anything, do you?” he questions.

  Frowning, I flip him off and steal the roll from my plate. “I know I love bread. And mashed potatoes. And Earl Grey tea. I love gyros and cupcakes and steak. I love that red rope licorice you can only buy from real candy stores.” I love that last thing because it was something my dad and I shared when I was a kid. Something that Mom used to get grossed out over. We’d make a great show of smacking loudly as we ate an entire bag of it on the way home back from the mall.

  “So you like food. Your hips don’t lie, tigress. Do you know what makes you sad? Because you got all kinds of sad just now and I know it wasn’t because you’re craving red licorice.”

  My heart skips a beat in my chest. “My dad—my real dad—and I would always get it to tease my mom. She hated that stuff.”

  He takes the roll from my hand and butters it for me. When he hands it back, his brows are pinched together. “I miss my mother too. I get it, Brie.”

  I take a big bite of my bread to keep from crying. We eat the rest of our meal in silence. Once he’s cleared away all the dishes and put them outside the door, he turns to regard me with his hands on his hips.

  “Ready for your present?”

  A small smile tugs at my lips. “Why are you being so nice to me? I didn’t imagine this was how it would all go down.”

  He shrugs and saunters away to the closet. “I’m not always a bad guy, you know.” I can hear something rustling in the closet. When he reemerges, he’s carrying a bright pink birthday bag stuffed way too full with lighter pink tissue paper. It’s totally a man’s wrap job. I let out a giggle.

  “Hey, I never claimed to be good at everything,” he says with a grumble and sets the bag down on the bed.

  The smile on my face is genuine. For someone who doesn’t offer them a lot, you notice when you do. I sit down on the bed and he sits across from me, his eyes on mine as I pull out the million sheets of tissue. When they disappear, I dive my hand into the bag and pull out a slim white box.

  “You bought me a MacBook Pro?” I say in astonishment. “Why?”

  He laughs. “Most people would just say thank you.”

  I lift an eyebrow. “Thank you, but why? It’s too expensive.”

  “Nothing is too expensive for my family,” he scoffs. “Besides, I thought you might want a way to Skype with your friends. Might be easier with the computer.”

  Sitting up on my knees, I
lean forward and hug his neck. “Thank you. That means a lot to me.”

  He pats my back. “And I also thought if you wanted to look up college courses and whatnot, it’d be much easier on that thing.”

  I pull away from him, my face just inches from his, and frown. “You’ll let me go to college?”

  His brows pinch together. “I told you I wasn’t your master, Brie. I want to help my father with his business. And I want to help you. Getting away from Heath will be the best thing that ever happened to you.”

  Without thinking, I kiss his cheek. He smells clean and spicy and safe. “Thank you so much. But how did you know I wanted to go to college?”

  He smirks and it warms me. “Oscar is good for some things, you know. Apparently he’s full of useful information, even if I have to beat it out of him.”

  I laugh. “You didn’t hurt him.”

  His black irises twinkle with shards of purple in the brilliant hotel room lights. “Nah, he’s just a kid.”

  When I bristle at his words—because Oscar is actually older than me—Duvan winces.

  “You know what I mean. He’s my little brother. Anyway, since you two are friends, I thought maybe you could go to his college since we’ll be living in the same town.”

  “I don’t know what to say,” I tell him in a shaky voice. In just one night, I’ve gone from feeling doomed to feeling hopeful.

  “Just say you won’t fuck my brother.” His growl is possessive, and a shiver quakes through me. “He’s been into you from day one, tigress.”

  “I’m not interested in your brother that way, but,” I start and knit my brows together in confusion. “I thought you said we could still see other people.”

  The hope that had been blooming in my chest comes crashing to the ground when he scowls.

  “Other people. Not my brother.” His tone is no nonsense.

  “But Ren?”

  “The lawn boy?”

  Heat burns my cheeks and I start to pull away. He palms my cheeks, looking me straight in the eye. “Is he your friend?”

  Technically, yes. And more. “Yeah.”

  “Does he make you happy?”

  “Absolutely.”

  “Then, tigress, see him all you want. Just come home to me at the end of the day. We have an image to uphold.” He winks at me.