The Boss (Chateau Book 3) Read online

  Two

  A Man of His Word

  Melanie

  I was marched through the darkness to the northern part of the camp, past the flickering torches in the clearing, past the cabins with wooden rails covered in snow. The sky was dark, and delicate flakes of snow drifted down, landing on the bridge of my nose and melting instantly.

  I walked between them, flanked on both sides, the sound of our footfalls crunching as we condensed the snow under our boots, grinding it into dust. Nights spent alone in my bedroom as I tried to fall asleep were never as quiet as it was now, when the tall pines of the forest shielded any sign of life from the outside world.

  We reached a small cabin in the rear, a perfect square with a small patio on a rise, three pieces of wood making the stairs that led to the front door. There were windows, frosted in the corners from the cold, and a stone chimney that showed smoke rising from the top like it was occupied.

  The guard opened the door and gestured for me to walk inside.

  I halted in front of the wooden steps, so afraid that I was actually tempted to run. But there was nowhere to go. To face this sort of cruelty was enough to bring tears to my eyes, to experience my terrible fate before it happened, to become a slave in a new category. It was more demeaning than anything else I’d been forced to do. Crying wouldn’t change that, would probably make him enjoy it more, but I couldn’t control myself. I was in utter despair, unable to believe this was my life now. And when I thought about it happening to Raven, it made me cry even more.

  “Come on.” The guard indicated to the door. “Now.”

  I swayed on the spot before I rose up the stairs, passing between the two guards and entering the small cabin. My clothes had been placed on the bed, a fire was in the fireplace, and I heard the door shut behind me. Their footsteps never sounded, as if they stayed put.

  I approached the bed, took a seat at the edge, and then noticed the couch, coffee table, and armchair positioned against the opposite wall. There was an empty bookshelf there as well. In the armchair sat the man I expected to see.

  The boss.

  He was as terrifying as I remembered.

  Deep-brown eyes, hair so short I bet he shaved it whenever it became too long, a jawline so chiseled and sharp that every bone in his face was visible, even his prominent cheekbones. Through his dark facial hair, the thin beard that hadn’t been shaved since yesterday or maybe the day before, his fair skin was visible, bright in the light of the flames that burned in the hearth.

  The fire popped when the wetness from the wood sizzled into steam, and the light licking of the wooden pieces by the flames made a peaceful noise, making it sound like a cozy cabin over Christmas.

  But it didn’t feel cozy.

  The longer I stared at him, the harder I cried.

  He was in his bomber jacket, black jeans, and black boots. His knees were wide apart, his thick arms on the armrests, his muscular frame leaning against the back of the chair. With the same expression that never changed, he watched me cry, feeling absolutely nothing.

  I pulled my gaze away because his expression frightened me. It only made it worse, only made the pain I was about to endure that much more intolerable. What was worse? What was about to happen…or the fact that there was nothing I could do about it?

  In my peripheral vision, I saw his immense frame rise from the chair.

  I gave an uncontrollable squeal of terror and immediately shifted farther down the bed, like the increased distance would make any difference at all. It provided me no extra protection whatsoever.

  He didn’t move.

  My shallow breathing turned into pants, and my hand tightened into a fist and rested against my chest, my eyes on the floor, cowering in fear but also impulsively preparing to fight a battle I would lose.

  His deep voice invaded every corner of the cabin, slid over every inch of my skin like a breeze from an open window on a summer day. It was warm like the fire, not cold like the piles of snow right outside. “I’m not going to hurt you.”

  I sucked a shuddering breath through my clenched teeth, taking comfort in the promise I had no idea if he would keep. But there was something about him that made his words unbreakable, that gave a high level of credibility. A man like that didn’t need to lie…so why would he?

  But his words could mean less than what I hoped for.

  He wouldn’t hurt me.

  Didn’t say he wouldn’t rape me.

  I remained motionless on the bed, my eyes still turned away, waiting for him to make his move.

  He did—by walking out.

  The door locked, and several sets of footsteps thudded against the wooden beams and disappeared.

  The girls asked questions the next day on the line.

  Petunia sat beside me, taking the bags I prepared and doing the final measurement before she handed it off to the next person. “Where did they take you?”

  I kept my eyes down, my voice low, and did my best not to get caught by the guards. “A different cabin. I’m by myself now.”

  “Why?”

  “I…I’m not sure.” I didn’t bring up the boss. Not sure why.

  “They only put the really difficult people in isolated cabins,” Petunia said, taking the bag from me and working like we weren’t deep in conversation. “Did you do something?”

  “No.” I was just very unlucky.

  Kiley sat on the other side of me and gave me a nudge. “Your sister…”

  I looked up to see a large guard at the edge of her table, standing right over her, watching her sit across from Bethany and not take a single bite. He loomed over her, making sure she starved so her work would weaken on the line…and she would be hanged.

  Tears welled in my eyes, and the only reason I didn’t break down into sobs was because Raven wouldn’t want that. If I drew attention to myself, I would be hanged too. And it would kill her if she had to see that, just as this was killing me now.

  A guard escorted me to my new cabin.

  There was a stack of firewood beside the fireplace, but I didn’t know how to get a fire going, so I didn’t bother. It was cold in the cabin, so I wrapped a blanket around me as I sat at the edge of the bed. Without company or a book to read, I didn’t know what to do with myself. I stared at the armchair where the boss had sat the day before.

  An hour later, several sets of boots sounded outside the front door. The lock was turned, and a guard carried my tray of food to the edge of my bed before he departed. He took his position on one side of the open door, while another stood on the other side, as if they were guarding the entrance.

  Then another pair of heavy footfalls sounded, growing louder and louder as the man rose up the steps and entered my cabin. In his black bomber jacket with the gray hood, his massive shoulders stressing the material at the seams and the same coldness in his dark eyes, he planted his feet.

  The door shut behind him.

  I didn’t move for the food. A long day of work made me hungry every day, but that appetite was chased away by the terrifying man who invaded my space and took away my freedoms.

  I didn’t cry this time, but I was fucking scared.

  His gaze had the same searing nature as before, like a hot branding iron against my skin, except his look wasn’t warm, but so cold that it burned like dry ice. His jacket was open in the front, showing his black shirt underneath that outlined the discrete lines of his pecs. He was muscular beneath all those clothes; there was no doubt about it, like a bear or something. His invasive look lasted a bit longer before he lowered himself into the armchair across from me, taking the exact same position as before. His hand gripped the armrests, his fingertips curling underneath the wood. His hands were visible, monstrous in size, covered with cords of veins. He hardly blinked as he stared at me, his look constant and piercing, like a knife right between my ribs. “Eat.”

  I didn’t turn to the tray beside me. I didn’t want to drop my guard, not even for a second, even though this would be a matc
h I could never win. My hands tightened the blanket around me, the material covering my appearance and perhaps making me less desirable.

  “You’re cold. Make a fire.”

  All I could do was shake my head.

  He stared at me for another minute, having distinct characteristics of a statue. He was stony, still, solid.

  I just wanted him to leave. Please leave…

  He rose to his feet and moved to the fireplace.

  I flinched at his movement and immediately scooted away, pushing the tray out of the way so I could fill the space it had once been in.

  He stilled and looked at me.

  I breathed hard, afraid of the repercussions.

  His stony expression didn’t change. It never seemed to change. It was impossible to gauge the thoughts of a statue, something lifeless, something created with knives and sharp tools. He continued his movements and grabbed the lighter sitting on top of the fireplace. He bent down, piled the wood into the hearth, lit it on fire, and then stepped back.

  The flames came alive and immediately filled the cabin with warmth, lighting up the darkness and chasing away the shadows…except his shadow.

  He returned to his armchair and took a seat once more.

  The staring continued.

  My eyes remained on the floor, waiting for the assault to begin.

  It never came.

  Thirty minutes of silence passed, my food got cold, and his eyes never strayed from my face.

  I cleared my throat and forced myself to speak. “What do you want?” I kept the blanket bundled around me even though I was actually too warm from the fire. But I held on to it like a life raft in the middle of the ocean.

  “You to eat.”

  My eyes returned to his. “Please…leave me alone.”

  “I said I wouldn’t hurt you.”

  “But that doesn’t mean you won’t—” I couldn’t even bring myself to say that disgusting, grotesque word. A word that should be eliminated from society because the act had been eradicated. It should be like smallpox, something that had been wiped from the face of the earth, so it wasn’t even discussed anymore.

  His brown eyes were the same color as the cabins, a dark, earthy color, with gentle flecks of different colors, like gold, amber, and other subtle hues that could be found in the forest. But the intensity of his gaze was not from this world, but deep below…in a place where he would return when his time on this earth expired. “I want you.” Every word that came out of his mouth was deliberate and simple. He spoke plainly, but very little. “But that’s not the way I want to have you.”

  Every muscle in my body relaxed a little, holding on to his words like he’d just pardoned me from an execution. I clung to those words, felt the air slowly leave my lungs, felt my eyes close for a brief moment as the relief I felt entered every single inch of my face. My reaction was uncontrollable, and I could feel the hint of moisture that rose from my throat and entered my eyes. I looked at him again and almost thanked him…but I didn’t because I shouldn’t have to.

  He held my gaze for only a few seconds before it was gone. He then shifted his gaze to the fire. It was the first time he broke contact first, the first time he severed that connection. “Eat.”

  Three

  Negotiate

  Melanie

  Raven was getting worse.

  With every passing day, she grew weaker.

  She struggled to carry the boxes to the table, starved until she turned white and weak, a translucent ghost.

  And there was nothing I could do.

  I was in my cabin, sitting in the dark and the cold, knowing the boss would visit me once more. He didn’t come yesterday or the day before. My food was brought by a faceless guard, and I shivered through the night because I still didn’t know how to make a fire. When I tried, I couldn’t get the flames to stick to the wood, not the way he could or the other girls in my old cabin had.

  I knew when he arrived before the door even opened.

  There were several sets of footsteps. They thudded against the wooden beams as they approached. The door was open, the tray was served, and then the guard took his post outside my room.

  The boss entered, making the same quiet but powerful entrance as with any time he stepped into the vicinity of other people. His eyes went to the fire first, then shifted to me. He didn’t sink into his armchair.

  The door shut behind him.

  After several long seconds, he spoke. “Why do you not use the fireplace?”

  I was a little less scared of him, so I spoke. “I…I don’t know how.” I was still in my work clothes because they were a lot warmer than my lounge clothes, and they were warm on the inside from my body heat through the day.

  His stare lingered before he grabbed the lighter, kneeled, and did it for me. When the fire grew into flames, he rose to his feet and set the lighter on the stonework. “Light the deepest part of the logs. Not the corner.” He moved to his usual spot and sank into the armchair, the glow from the flames blanketing his face with golden light. It made his eyes a little brighter, like freshly tilled soil on a spring day. His gaze was reserved for my face. He always wore a stoic and intense expression, but whenever his eyes were on me, it was more pronounced. Slight, but deep.

  He was in charge of this place, had the power to do anything, so if he said he had no bad intentions toward me, I believed him. There was no reason to give me a false sense of security, to make me drop my guard when he could just tear it down. I grabbed the tray and started to eat.

  With his arms stretched out in front of him and his body still, he watched me eat the food the guard had provided. A lot of men weren’t talkative, but he took it to a new extreme. He seemed to enjoy silence more than a good conversation.

  I didn’t know what else to do besides eat, so that’s what I did. I was starving after the long day. We didn’t get breakfast. We got two meals a day, and that was why the girls slept with the guards to get extra sustenance. I’d never had much of an appetite, so I didn’t need to go the extra mile.

  The thought of the girls made me think of Raven.

  She was being starved on purpose—so she would be the next candidate for the Red Snow.

  I didn’t know what had caused the guard to focus on Raven, but knowing her, she probably refused a request or pissed him off, and now she was at his mercy. My mind suddenly became clear as a sunny day after a rain as I looked at him. “I have an offer.”

  It seemed to be too much effort for him to react, and his face stayed the same.

  “I’ll let you have me the way you want to have me…if you let my sister and me go.”

  His face was a slab of gray concrete.

  An eternity seemed to pass, and there was no response. A silent no.

  “Okay…if you let Raven go.” If I could get her out of here, I would be able to live with myself again.

  He didn’t even blink.

  “Her guard is starving her—”

  “I don’t negotiate.” The look on his face told me the conversation was over. The request had been denied. We were finished.

  At least I tried. “You said you wanted me…”

  “Still do.” A man had never looked at me like that before, like he could touch me with just his stare, wrap his fingers around my neck and slide his hand gently up my shirt over my soft belly—when there were twelve feet between us.

  “I just offered you a way to make that happen—”

  “That’s not how I want to have you.”

  “You don’t have any other option.” He either forced me, or he gave me something in return.

  He touched me again with just his look, his big hands in my hair, his body guiding me flat against the bed, his narrow hips sliding between my parting thighs. His weight pressed me into the mattress, and he looked down at me like I was a newfound paradise he would claim in his name. “I do.”

  I shook my head. “No, you don’t.” I was terrified to defy him, but the words fluttered out anyway. If h
e really forced himself on me, I’d just give in and allow it to happen because a fight would be pointless. But knowing that he wouldn’t gave me some courage to disagree. He gave me a power that no one else in this camp had given me. I took it and ran with it.

  He turned his gaze to the fire. “I don’t need another option. I just have to wait for the option I want. And I will.”

  I worked in the clearing, my fingertips callused from the constant toil from sunrise to sunset. With our heads down, each one of us worked as if our lives depended on it—because they did.

  It was Friday. That meant someone would be selected.

  I hoped it wasn’t Raven.

  Everyone looked up when they saw the boss approach, flanked by his men, striding through the clearing carrying his massive shoulders beneath his bomber jacket. His breath escaped his nose as he exhaled, creating a cloud of white smoke in front of him. His eyes didn’t land on me until he began to pass.

  He looked at me just as he did in the cabin.

  The look lasted a moment before it was gone—and he departed.

  All I should feel was relief at his departure, but there was a flare of disappointment. Ever since he’d taken an interest in me, the guards stopped manhandling me every time they escorted me anywhere. They didn’t say a word to me either, didn’t taunt me. I’d clearly been designated as off-limits, and I suspected that respect would continue even when he was gone. My nights in the cabin gave me a bit of normalcy, where I had the power to make decisions that were accepted.

  I shouldn’t feel grateful for that, not when he was the reason this camp existed in the first place, but I was.

  Night descended. My worst nightmare began.

  Torches were lit, the noose was readied, and the block was set in place for the next victim. The executioner made his way down the aisles, staring down all the women who kept their heads bent in the hope that they would escape his notice.

  Not Raven…not Raven.