Poisonous Pleasure

Chapter Ten

Clémence could feel her heart lurching in her chest, pounding and grating. Her neck, between her breasts, palms, and forehead were wet, and her teeth moved on their own, making a chattering and jarring noise. Her hands shook as they lay at her side. Oxygen couldn't reach her lungs. Blood was rushing into her head. Her vision had gone ultimately blurry, and little streams of tears leaked from her shifting eyes.

She didn't know how she got into this room. She hadn't seen those women again. Those subservient women who were seen but not heard, bowing to her like an archaic god. Without any protest from her, Malachi put the blindfold on her again. She knew when to behave. She promised to be on her best behavior even when his hold on her nape, likened to that of a dog, tightened to the point of pain and discomfort, but there was no utterance or a mere wince from her. Malachi seemed to know this strange house. He must have frequented here while she was idle in that house. He kept her locked up while he galavanted through the whole country. She didn't know the state they were located in until a week after they had arrived. In New York, he had thrown her after sex when he had satisfied himself between her legs.

She balked at the thought. She wanted to react, lash out, and scream profanities. She stopped in her tracks, but he wouldn't let her. He was practically dragging her by her neck at that point. She didn't know if anyone was within the vicinity. She was blindfolded, so she couldn't see. She hadn't heard any footsteps besides hers and his. The humiliation was skin-deep. Clémence was always proud, but after such treatment she was left feeling like a shell.

He had barged into this room rather than knocked as he had formerly done. The air was thick with the stench of blood money and ill-gotten wealth. She didn't need eyes to see or perceive the gross danger that had befallen this room. After much time, he had removed the blindfold, and she took in her surroundings. Akin to a study, it was furnished with brass, fine wood, and silk. The scent of expensive cigars and whiskey permeated through. Clémence scrunched her brow as she realized this was a place of dirty dealings, drugs and human trafficking, planned murders and executions.

Clémence was perturbed.

Malachi moved to the large and leathered chair behind a larger looking table. He beckoned her with the snap of his fingers, snapping her out of her reverie, motioning to his spread thighs. His eyes spoke the command. Without any hesitation, she moved to sit on the intimidating man's lap. Malachi had caressed her shoulders, trying to release the tension he had felt. But Clémence was far gone by that point. Fear had begun to creep in.

The signs were clear. She was on the verge of having a panic attack. Her infamous panic attacks. This was the wrong place for this to be happening. If she lived long enough anyway, the embarrassment would eat her alive.

"Compose yourself, sweet." She really wanted to compose herself. If she was going to die, she might as well have a little dignity and finesse. She owed that to herself, at the very least.

"You aren't the one waiting for their end." She jabbed back, the glare in her eyes wishing to cut daggers at the man whose lap she was perched on like a caged little bird.

"You should have been naked and tied up, dragged by your fucking hair. You are receiving spectacular treatment so far. You do well to remember this is your fault. " Malachi's hand grabbed at her waist, digging into her, causing her to wince in pain. This was a cautious warning to her that things could be more violent than they were proposed to be. "The reason I bothered to honor this fucking calling in the first place is because I didn't want to come home one day and see my woman shot in the head."

She stiffened in his lap, her spine arched upward in effort. She didn't like the tone he used. He spoke offhandedly, as if finding her dead body was something that was a probability and one he would need to get rid of. She knew he would be the one to chop her body into easy-to-dispose pieces, to be fed to her dog as he had promised in the past.