LONDON'S POINT OF VIEW
The relationship I had with Crewe was unhealthy, but that didn't make him an unhealthy man. When I told him I didn't want to sleep with him, he had respected my wish. Every time we were together, the pleasure was shared. Of course, it was against my will—I had to obey him even if I didn't want to—but sex was something I actually enjoyed. What I hated was being a prisoner here.
"You hate me, don't you?"
She turned her eyes back to her tablet.
"Absolutely. You're nothing but a distraction for Crewe. He has more important things to do than take care of his little bitch all day long."
"Well… why don't you close your eyes and let me escape? We'd both win."
She wouldn't have to deal with me anymore. She wouldn't have to see my face or hear my voice again. Crewe could get back to work full-time.
She looked at me again, her sharp eyes behind her glasses.
"Even though I'd love to do that, I am loyal to my employer. I will tell him to his face that he should either kill you or let you go. But I won't do anything behind his back. I respect this man infinitely."
"Yet, you treat me like shit."
She placed the tablet on her lap, having visibly finished what she was doing.
"I've been very clear about what I think of you. But Crewe defends your honor every time. He can be a gentleman in quite an unexpected way."
God knows why, but that warmed my heart. Crewe defended me even when I wasn't in the room. When one of his men grabbed me, he was there to protect me. When Ariel insulted me, he took my side.
"There's no logic to it. He has weaknesses, and yet he can be ruthless at the same time."
"Crewe is a complex man. He is human because he himself has suffered more than most of us. But he has no respect for people who don't take their destiny into their own hands like he did."
I wanted to know more about Crewe and his past. This was the second time someone had alluded to it.
"What did he go through?"
"I'm not allowed to tell you. If he wants to talk to you about it, he will."
I was the only one who didn't know.
"Does Crewe still sleep with his regulars?"
Crewe wouldn't answer that question, which I had asked him many times already, but I was interested in the answer.
She squinted, almost offended.
"Why are you asking me that?"
"You know everything about him, don't you?"
"I don't concern myself with his sex life. It's none of my business."
"But you sure talk to him about me."
Her coldness didn't melt.
"Are you jealous?"
She crossed her arms over her chest and tilted her head to one side.
"I hope you understand clearly that you are just a toy to him, not his mistress. If he wants to sleep elsewhere, he will. That doesn't concern you."
"I understand what I am to him. But I have the right to know the truth."
"Then ask him yourself."
She lowered her arms to her lap.
I would have to. Nobody wanted to give me any answers around here. I was important enough to be watched, but not enough to be given information. It wasn't like I was asking for his bank details.
"I'm anxious about the dinner on Saturday. I told him he shouldn't take me, but he wants me to accompany him."
She sighed loudly.
"I also don't know why he wants to take you. Sasha is perfect for this kind of reception."
I hated that name. It was like she had rubbed a pebble against my teeth.
"But Crewe always gets what he wants," she sighed again. "I'll make sure you look as beautiful as possible so you don't embarrass yourself."
No matter my makeup or my outfit, I would likely embarrass myself anyway.
Crewe entered the royal bedroom late that evening. I had eaten dinner alone and was ready for bed. Since I had spent the afternoon outside, I wasn't restless anymore.
He crossed the threshold, smelling of cigars again. He greeted me with a look, then untied his tie. He headed toward the bathroom, undressing along the way.
I guessed he wasn't in a chatty mood, so I didn't ask him anything. But I picked up his clothes from the floor, put them on a hanger, and hung them behind the door so one of the maids would have them cleaned tomorrow. I didn't know much about suits, but I knew his must be expensive and of high quality. I didn't know why I cared. The well-being of his clothes should have been indifferent to me. Clearly, he didn't care about my well-being as a human being.
After showering, he returned to the bedroom with a towel wrapped around his waist. His chest glistened with the water dripping from his hair onto his shoulders. He stopped when he saw the suit hanging behind the door, but made no comment.
"You shouldn't smoke."
I wasn't trying to make him angry; the smell of his clothes really bothered me.
"I didn't know you cared about me."
"I don't, but I wouldn't want you to get lung cancer."
He took a pair of boxers from his drawer and looked at me, sketching a smile.
"That's an interesting contradiction. You don't care about me, but you want me to live as long as possible. Interesting."
"I'm just saying that as a friend."
"So we're friends?"
He pulled on his boxers and walked around the bed to stand in front of me. His arrogant smile still hovered on his lips. Sometimes, when we were alone, he showed me a side of himself he didn't let anyone else see. He was mischievous, even funny.
"No. Only…"
I didn't know how to get out of the hole I had dug for myself.
"We aren't friends."
He stepped closer to me, the water droplets shimmering on his skin.
"Friends don't fuck the way we do."
He leaned toward me and kissed the corner of my mouth, enveloping me in the scent of his shower gel.
I forgot what I was saying and melted at the touch of his lips on mine. He chased everything else away when he kissed me. I didn't think about my brother, or my imprisonment, or anything at all.
He pulled away, and our lips stayed pressed together for a moment before separating.
"Ariel told me she had a good time today."
I widened my eyes.
"Liar."
He laughed, then walked over to the table where he kept his scotch. The maid brought an ice bucket every night so he could drink the alcohol the way he liked it. He poured himself a glass, then swallowed a long sip before placing it back on the table.
"She doesn't hold you in her heart."
"What a coincidence," I said sarcastically. "Neither do I."
He poured himself another glass.
"You drink too much."
One glass a day would be fine, but he must drink at least twelve a day. Strangely, I had never seen him drunk. Unless he was permanently drunk, and I had never seen him sober.
He ignored my remark and served himself again.
"She says you're curious."
"Curious?"
"You ask questions about my past and my women."
I didn't like how he referred to them with a possessive pronoun. I stiffened with annoyance.
"She was the one who brought up your past first. So that doesn't count."
"Then why do you ask questions about the women?"
He drank before setting his glass down.
"How can you drink so much?"
"Why do you care?"
He licked his lips to savor the taste of the alcohol.
"I don't think I've seen you drink water even once."
"You've seen me drink coffee."
"Is that water?"
I couldn't help but answer. It just came out when I talked to him.
He smiled, amused.
"You don't like it when I smoke. You don't like it when I drink…"
"I don't care that you drink. You drink too much, that's all."
"Whatever. And you don't like it when I sleep with other women. Hmm… that's very interesting."
He stood in front of me and stared at me with his warm brown eyes.
"It seems like you like me."
"I don't like you. If I could leave right now, I would."
"Really? I don't believe you anymore when you say that."
"Then destroy the detonator, and I'll prove it to you.
He looked at me without saying a word.
"The only reason I want to know if you sleep with other women is because I don't want to catch something nasty. I was clean before I met you, and I intend to stay that way."
My request wasn't unjustified. I had the right to be concerned about my health.
"I'm clean, Sweetheart."
"But if you sleep with…"
"Like I told you, it's none of your business."
I wanted to scream.
"Fine. Then let's use condoms."
He laughed as if it were an absurd request.
"No."
I squinted.
"Does that mean you sleep elsewhere? All I'm asking for is an answer, not an explanation. I don't care if you sleep with other chicks. At least use a rubber with them."
"Bullshit," he said. "You do care. I can tell just by looking at you."
I swallowed my anger.
"That's false. But even if it were true, what difference does it make? It shouldn't change your answer."
"It doesn't change it. I don't tell anyone about my life. You're no exception."
Strangely, that answer hurt. I couldn't quite understand why exactly. He slept with me every night, he fucked me every day, and he was the only person in this part of the world I felt safe with. When I was with him, nothing worse could happen to me.
I turned away so I wouldn't have to look at him. It gave me a chance to pull my emotions together so they wouldn't show on my face.
"Since you have this undeniable advantage over me, why don't you let me go out alone? If I run away, you'll kill Joseph. It's obvious I won't let that happen, so I'm not going anywhere. Whether I'm under surveillance or not, I remain your prisoner."
I turned around, arms crossed over my chest. I kept a blank expression, hiding the pain I felt deep down.
He walked toward the bed and pulled back the covers, then set his phone alarm.
"You have a good point."
"Is that a yes?"
He leaned back against the headboard, his cock twitching and hardening on his stomach.
"I'll think about it."
I wasn't going to get anything more out of him.
"Come here."
His voice turned authoritative, his eyes betraying his desire. His cock hardened even more, turning into a nine-inch steel bar.
"Naked. Right now."
😈😈Ah, he told her to get naked, ohhh 😩🍆🍒
👉👉👉👉As you know, this episode contains extremely violent scenes. This can have a negative impact on the visibility of my page, or even lead to its deletion.