Translucent (18 page)

I stared at him incredulously, hoping he was joking. Grabbing a handful of my hair, he yanked me from my chair, forced me onto my knees, and shoved my face into her crotch. “I don’t like to repeat myself, Bryleigh. Clean her up with your mouth, and make sure you get it all. I don’t need some worthless piece of ass having my baby. If you don’t, you know what will happen to her.”

Sitting back down in the chair, he watched as I licked and sucked on Stacia’s vagina, trying my best to clean her up and save her life while doing so. When he finally deemed I was through, he dismissed her and had his way with every hole in my body until I physically couldn’t walk.

The rest of the honeymoon, I didn’t see him much. I stayed in the villa, not wanting to look into the eyes of another human for the rest of my life. I contemplated suicide numerous times, but I could never go through with it. Once we got back home in Chicago, he’d obviously enjoyed our morning with Stacia so much he began to bring other women home regularly to fuck in front of me, and then made me clean them with my mouth. I never knew I could feel so degraded and tainted, but every minute I spent with him, I discovered a new low in my life.

“Blake! Blake, sweet girl, come back to me,” Madden’s concerned voice infiltrates my thoughts, tearing me from the repulsive memory. Slowly grasping my bearings, I find myself sitting in his lap on the stairs, with his arms holding me tightly to his chest as he rocks me soothingly. The familiar coppery taste of blood looms in my mouth, and I hope I haven’t made a mess on his stairs. Mortified to look up at him, I bury my face into his neck and start to cry.

“I’m so sorry,” I whimper.

He realizes I’m cognitive of my surroundings, and gently strokes the back of my hair as he stands up with me in his arms. Walking up the stairs back to his room, he whispers, “Shh, no reason to be sorry. This is what I’m here for, my sweet girl.”

“
S
EÑOR
M
ADDEN
,
WAKE
UP
! There’s a problem with the girl.” Sarah’s heavy accent wakes me from the delectable dream I was having starring none other than my Blake.

“What problem? What girl?” I ask groggily. Sitting up in the bed, I glance over to where Blake should be, but isn’t. Immediately, my heart begins to pound rapidly, and I swivel my head back towards where Sarah stands next to the bed.

“Hurry, she’s on the stairs. I don’t know what she’s doing,” she replies panicky. “Crying and shaking. There’s blood.”

Shooting out of bed in a split-second, I don’t care I’m only wearing my boxers; I need to get to her. Now. I sprint out of the room towards the staircase, and as soon as I see her balled up towards the lower landing, I rush to her side. Scooping her into my arms, I place her in my lap and hold her close, trying to bring her out of this dream-like state she’s in.

“Blake, baby, I’m here; it’s me, Madden,” I say softly in her ear. Her entire body is shivering as if she’s spent hours in the cold, and her eyelids are squeezed shut. There’s a steady trickle of blood coming out of one side of her mouth running down her chin, and her cheeks are wet from her silent sobs.

“Blake! Blake, sweet girl, come back to me,” I raise my voice slightly as I rock her back and forth. I desperately need her to snap out of the trance she’s lost in.

Her body jolts, and the trembling stops momentarily. Then, pressing her face into my chest, she grabs a hold of my arms and begins to audibly cry. “I’m so sorry,” she blubbers against me.

Realizing she’s back with me, I run my fingers through her hair and kiss the top of her head, thankful I was able to pull her out of the spell. Effortlessly rising to my feet with her securely in my arms, I carry her back to my room.

“Shh, no reason to be sorry. This is what I’m here for, my sweet girl.”

Sarah is waiting at the top of the stairs, having watched the entire scene unfold. With a slight nod of my head, I let her know I’ll take care of Blake, and she gives me a small smile as she pats my arm sympathetically.

Walking straight into the bathroom, I carefully set her down on the floor in order to strip the t-shirt and panties off of her. I leave her alone momentarily to draw a warm bath, hoping that will help calm her, but quickly return to her side. She still has her legs pulled into her chest, with her face hidden in-between her knees. The sight of her frail, damaged body crumpled up in a ball pulls at my heart. I don’t know her all that well, but what I do know, I adore. I realize it’s going to be hard for me not to get emotionally attached, and I’m going to try my best to preserve my own self, but I
have
to help her. In a couple of short weeks, she’s embedded herself under my skin, and broken or not, she’s mine.

“Blake, please look up at me. I need to see where you’re bleeding from so we can treat it,” I plead with her.

Sluggishly, she lifts her head and peers at me through her wet, matted lashes. Her usually-beautiful blue eyes are glossed over, desolate, and despondent. “I think I bit my tongue,” she mutters with a grimace. More blood trickles from her mouth as she tries to talk, and she lays her forehead back on the top of her knees.

Sliding my hand under her chin, I raise her head back up, forcing her to look at me. “Open your mouth so I can see.”

Obediently, she parts her lips so I can examine and determine where the damage occurred. Gashes in her tongue are visible, despite the good amount of blood still inside her mouth. “Let’s get some water so you can rinse your mouth out, okay?

Nodding despairingly, she lifts her tiny hand and touches my bare chest. “I got blood on you. I’m sorry.”

I look down to her hand and see the red smears across my skin, then grab her hand and kiss it. “Don’t you dare worry about me right now.”

Picking her up again, I carry her over to the sink and set her down on the marble countertop. I fill a glass with cold water from the sink and hand it to her. “Please rinse for me.” Without argument, she takes the glass and swishes the cool liquid around in her mouth a bit before spitting out the bloody fluid into the sink. Repeating the motion several times, finally, the blood disappears from the back wash, and she sets the glass down next to her.

“That’s my girl,” I say encouragingly. “Now, let’s get you in the bath.”

Removing the only article of clothing I have on, this isn’t how I’d imagined she’d see me naked for the first time, but it’s what needs to be done. Cradling her body against mine, I walk us to the oversized bathtub; I turn off the faucet and carefully step into the near-f basin. Cautiously, I lower us both down until we are safely immersed in the warm water, her back pressed flush against my chest. Leaning back against the cool porcelain, I breathe a sigh of relief. Still crazy with concern, I feel relief that at the moment she’s okay.

Neither of us says anything for a few minutes; I simply rub her arms and her belly, tenderly kissing the top of her head as she pulls herself back together.

“This is why I can’t do
us
,” she states, breaking the silence.

“Why’s that?” I ask.

She laughs dryly. “Because I’m crazy. It didn’t even take twenty-four hours for me to have an episode while around you.”

“What happens to you during these
episodes?”
I ask, praying she answers.

“I remember things. Very bad things.”

Hissing in a breath, I remind myself to keep calm, though the thought of someone hurting her makes me irate. I gather she’s not going to elaborate on what these very bad things are, so I go a different route. “What causes you to have them? These memories? Do they just happen all the time, or randomly?”

“Typically, if it happens when I’m awake, it’s triggered by something I see or hear. When I’m sleeping, it’s just randomly. I hadn’t had a nightmare in the last three nights, so I was pretty happy when I woke up, before…”

“What happened to trigger it today?” I press. “Did you see or hear something?”

Nodding, she crosses her arms over her body to conceal herself from me. I gently grasp her arms and unwrap them from her torso. “Don’t hide from me, sweet girl. I’m only trying to help. I want to know what it was, so we can make sure that same thing doesn’t elicit another episode.” I dip my head down to the side of her neck and place several kisses along the silky skin. “Tell me what happened this morning.”

I feel her swallow hard against my mouth still pressed against her neck. “I, uh—I went downstairs to get some water, and right before I made it down there, I heard something…or someone. She was singing in Portuguese. And then I smelled bacon. It was—” She shakes her head and stops talking.

“I’m pretty sure you heard my housekeeper, Sarah, singing in the kitchen while she made us breakfast. She speaks Spanish, not Portuguese, though I imagine they’re pretty similar,”
I explain. “I’d messaged her late last night and asked her to cook for us before we went to work. I should’ve told you she’d be here. I’m sorry.”

“Oh, okay,” she whispers.

We sit quietly for a few more minutes. I don’t ask any more questions for now, but file away the information about the Portuguese, and make a mental note to ask Sarah not to speak Spanish around Blake. Eventually, the water begins to cool down, and I need to get her out before she gets chilled.

“I’m going to call Mr. Thompson and tell him I’ve pulled you away from the office today to help me work on something,” I explain as I lift the drain.

She scrambles to her feet and steps out of the tub, shaking her head. “No, I can’t do that. I have to go to the office. I don’t want to miss work.”

Following her, I grab us each a towel to dry off with, trying to remain patient. “You will be working, just with me. If I let you out of my sight today, I’m going to be worried about you, and I need to be productive.”

She wraps the white towel snugly around her body and stares at me stubbornly. “I’m sorry, Madden, but I can’t. I’m not going to your office to sit with you and watch you work like some helpless little child who can’t be left alone. I’ve dealt with these flashbacks for a couple of years now; I will be fine.”

A couple of years? What the fuck happened to her? She’s only twenty-two.
I know I can’t ask any more about her past, especially not right now, but I can’t remember the last time something filled me with rage like the thought of this…whatever it is.

Conceding to her request, though not happily, I nod. “Okay, but you’ve got to promise you’ll come back here tonight. I can cook for you and we can watch a movie or something, whatever you want to do. It’s the only way I’m gonna let you go.”

She continues to stare at me blankly, so I decide to remind her of why she should come back. Closing the gap between us—both only covered by towels—I lift her up from under her arms, drawing her close and forcing her to wrap her legs around my waist. I back her up until her ass is on the counter once again, this time with me firmly between her legs. Sliding my hands around the back of her neck into her hair, I lower my mouth to hers in an assertive but affectionate closed-mouth kiss, careful not to hurt her tongue. A moan rumbles in the back of her throat, and I grow hard immediately. I can’t help it; the girl is the sexiest fucking thing I’ve ever seen, and she has no damn idea. As I softly tug on her hair, she lifts her chin, giving my mouth access to her neck, and I trace my tongue along her smooth jawline from ear to ear.

“Please come back tonight. I want you here with me, sweet girl” I murmur against her skin. “Don’t make me beg.”

Her body relaxes against mine as she drapes her arms around my shoulders. “I’ll be back after work. I’m not sure I’ll be able to eat much, but a movie sounds nice.”

Pleased with that answer, I help her get dressed so she can go home to change for work. As soon as she’s gone, I jump in the shower myself, knowing I’m running late as well.

The minute I arrive at work, the endless phone calls and emails begin and don’t let up until well into the afternoon. Through it all, my concern for Blake looms heavily in the back of my mind, and I can’t erase the vision of her crumpled up on the bottom of my stairs from this morning. Something tells me I’m biting off more than I can chew with her, that I’m not strong enough to help her through whatever it is that terrorizes her, but for some reason, I can’t walk away. I’ve only known her for a couple of weeks, and already, I feel like I’m suffocating when I’m not around her. Between my dad’s poor health, my selfish and lazy little brother, and an expanding company to run, the last thing I need is to get attached to someone who could possibly freak out at any moment and bolt.
The last thing I need, but she’s the one thing I want.

Once the chaos around the office begins to slow down a bit, I call Caroline into my office to get her help in what I’m planning for the night. I’ve always been completely honest with her; she’s much like the cool aunt I never had—older and wiser, but never judgmental about what I do.

“Hey, Caroline, crazy Friday, yes?” I ask as she walks in.

“Every day around here is crazy lately, Madden. If nothing else, it makes time fly by,” she replies with a chuckle. “What can I do for you?”