His to Own (His to Own #1) Read online

  Maybe this was a test - me being here on my own. Maybe the man wanted to see what I would attempt to do if left on my own.

  With a sigh, I stood in front of the open white fridge, looking to see what there was to eat. I debated on letting myself starve but didn’t feel like taking that much energy to do so. I loved food too much to ever really consider that option.

  There wasn’t really much in the fridge food wise, other than milk, eggs, and yogurt. Nothing at all that sounded appealing. I was craving something greasy, which I wasn’t normally allowed to have.

  The kitchen was smaller than the one in my parent’s house. Dark tile ran the length of the room, wood cupboards, and white countertops. It looked so normal for a place that hid such darkness.

  Not finding anything that didn’t take a lot of work to make, I shut the fridge and turned around.

  In the next breath, my heart skipped a beat. Not once, but twice, as terror froze me to my spot. My eyes widened and I held in my scream.

  There on the other side of the kitchen stood a man I had seen a number of times before. His skin was as dark as the brown sweater I used to love that Becca would let me borrow on school days. Matching dark hair and brown eyes on his aging face were kind as he stood back, letting me get used to the idea that he was here.

  He gave me a sad, but yet knowingly smile as he held up a McDonald’s take along bag.

  “Food?” he asked with a nod of his head, not dropping his eyes from my widened ones. He didn’t react to my presence at all like I thought he would.

  I stood there dumbfounded. It couldn’t be. Just . . . no!

  “Avidya,” he said, just as quiet, taking a few steps towards me. “Here.” He placed the bag onto the white countertop beside me. “Eat. Mr. Melendez will be back later. Till then, I’m to keep you company.”

  My heart beat twice as fast as he turned his back, making himself at home. He seemed as if this was nothing out of the ordinary for him. And maybe it wasn’t. Was this his side job? Keeping track of kidnapped victims?

  After checking to make sure that the food hadn’t been tampered with, I stuffed it into my mouth as if I was starving. The untouched hot cup of coffee was amazing to wash down the food.

  Finishing, I tossed the trash in the trashcan next to the sink that was hidden behind a cupboard. I peeked to where the guard I assumed was sitting in the living room, and within sight of the kitchen. I didn’t want to face him, didn’t want to hear his story or reasons for being here. His reasons for playing with my parents, if he had.

  The thought of my parents sent a small pang of dismay to my heart. Did they have a part in all this? Could they have? It couldn’t be true since they were – are – so protective of me.

  Jonas Carter helped in the church beside my father and alongside a few other men. He was a people person, listening and giving advice when needed. He had joined my father about three years ago but was well known in the community before that. Jonas was the type of man that helped just about anyone if they asked; the typical handyman that didn’t ever ask for anything in exchange. I could never picture him here, as this person that sat in that other room.

  “Finished?” he asked, looking around the kitchen before letting his eyes fall on me once more, bringing me out of my thoughts. I stood there, arms wrapped around my torso trying to hold myself together. I had so much to say, yet nothing at all. What could someone say in this situation? Was I able to just pretend that this didn’t happen and that I wasn’t in the same breathing space as this man that I now viewed as one of my enemies?

  “Let’s have a chat, Vidie,” he said, motioning towards the living room.

  “Avidya,” I seethed. There was no way I was going to let this man I had thought was a family friend call me anything but my given name. He completely lost that right.

  “Okay,” he said, not arguing like he had expected nothing less. “After you . . .” He held out his palm towards the seating places in the living room.

  I took a few steps into the living room and took a seat on the edge of the black leather chair that was placed closest to the bedroom for an easy getaway. He stood right where he was, knowing not to follow me like he would have any other time.

  “I’m sure you are surprised to see me,” he begun. He seemed surprised that it was me of all people here, and I felt the same way.

  “What gives you that idea?” I muttered with an eye roll.

  Ignoring my remark, he continued on. “Just because I worked with your father for a number of years doesn’t mean I have the same views. He’s a Preacher, and with my line of work I needed a way in. I’ll take just about any work in with a number of people if I can.”

  It didn’t escape my notice that he purposely didn’t say what he did, or who he worked for.

  “But my boss pulled me away late last night to come keep an eye on you here. I can’t blow off the family, even in times of distress. The Boss demands me to do things I have to do without question.”

  He was making no sense. I’m sure he could see in in my expression as I squinted my eyes at him.

  “I didn’t know it was you until I peeked in on you after Mr. Melendez left. I got a bit of time to put pieces together, and I’m not thrilled with how this all went down. I really am glad you are okay, even though you have no idea what is happening outside of this loft, and it’s for the best.

  “I’ll do my best to make sure no harm comes to you. I promise. I’ve always seen you like a niece since I got to know you and your parents. That will not change, Avidya,” Jonas spoke, a look of serenity on his face.

  “Now, to keep Mr. Melendez on your good side, please don’t try to escape. He will find you, he always does. His . . . . punishments . . . are not just a grounding or a yelling. He’s strict but not nearly anything like what you are used to, thankfully. He just expects you to act your age and be respectful for the most part.”

  “What . . . how are my parents doing?” I asked, knowing he wouldn’t answer the main question that plagued me.

  “Your mother is quite upset, and last I knew hardly left her bed,” Jonas answered. “Your father . . . well, he’s doing as he always does in times of high stress. He has hardly left the church, thinking God will bring you back home while the community puts search groups together. You know how he gets . . .”

  Yeah, I did. He always thought that God could bring salvation to anyone, and those that committed sin would get what they deserved. His view of God’s word tended to be wrong. He’d take parts of the bible and make his own view of everything. I never agreed on that. I always thought that God’s words went verse by verse, and the ten commandments were our rules, our type of guidelines to live by. Father’s strict parenting style showed his views clearly in not only his personal life but also his religious live as a pastor.

  “So, he’ll expect me to be found dead rather than be returned touched in any way,” I huffed, letting my body slouch back in the chair. I almost feared father’s response, either way, knowing that he’d pretty much detest me no matter what happened.

  “Basically,” he said with a half-sad look. “But I think that Mr. Melendez will be a better option if I do say so myself. He can offer you more than the views and expectations your parents ever can.”

  Where had that come from? Jonas skipped topics, and I became lost on what he was trying to say.

  “Mr. Melendez is a powerful man and does things completely differently from what you are used to, but he won’t hurt you, that I can guarantee,” he went on, almost as he lost himself in thought.

  “Surely, they won’t stop looking for me,” I mused. “And mom will start drinking again. I can’t just sit back and do nothing.”

  I wasn’t proud that my own mother was an alcoholic, but I never looked at her different because of it. Living with that man I call a father would make anyone want to drink more than anything else.

  “Mr. Melendez is pulling strings to get that taken care of,” he spoke. ”You do not need to worry about it. He do
esn't want you to worry.”

  “You have got to be kidding me!” I said, standing up as anger grabbed a hold of me. “Do nothing? Don’t worry about it? My best friend was murdered! Right beside me on top of it! I was kidnapped, drugged and handled as though I’m a piece of meat. Then I’m given to a man as a gift to be paid off as a debt repayment!

  “You expect me to just go along with whatever you people demand? I’m sick and tired of being a puppet, goddamnit!”

  “Yep,” he said, amused as he crossed his arms over his chest. Who was he agreeing with? Me, or his own thoughts?

  “Well, I’m not!” I seethed. There was absolutely no way I could just stay here without fighting. Even though there wasn’t much I could do, as Jonas was strong enough to stop me from leaving. I sure as Hell would not be standing here, letting whoever just boss me around.

  I was done.

  “Then you’ll learn the hard way, Avidya,” he simply shrugged. He didn’t raise his voice, but his words spoke volumes. He just knew what was in store for me, no matter what I did.

  And I was not going to make it easy on anyone.

  Chapter 6

  Avidya

  The next couple of days passed by with little talk between Jonas and myself. He tried, but I silently seethed. At him, at life – everything. I was in prison, even though someone, no idea who had sent clothes to the apartment I was being kept in. Along with a few books and movies to keep me entertained. At least I wouldn’t be bored to death.

  I hadn’t tried to really read any of the books; my mind refused to let me drop all thoughts of the unknown. The man I was gifted to hadn’t been back and Jonas had hardly said anything about the man that held my life in his hands.

  I explored the entire area, finding every nook and cranny. I found every little hiding place that I could squeeze into if need be. What else had I to do? There was no way I would just sit with the man that expected me to be the perfect little girl I was no longer. There was no way I could be after Shemoli took me, after killing my best friend.

  Not wanting to stay in the room any longer on the fourth day, I finally decided to go sit outside on the patio that was attached to the bedroom. It was a nice warm day with a slight breeze. I left my hair down, as I had no reason to do anything with it. Mother always insisted that it had to be styled every day, and pulled off of my face in some sort of fashion. I hated it. I hated having to spend so much time on my appearance for no reason. I wasn’t allowed to wear makeup, yet I was expected to be presentable at all times, day or night.

  So far, nothing like that was expected of me here. The clothes that were sent to me were named brand, but something I would maybe pick out on my own if I was given the chance to do so. Not having to worry about what I wore or being ‘put together’ was nice, refreshing even. Something I could certainly get used to, if I hadn’t already.

  Without question, I knew I’d miss the clothing most if or when I ever got to return back to the home I grew up. There was nothing left there, though, so I wasn't entirely looking forward to that endeavor. Heck, I wasn’t looking forward to anything that would be happening in my near future.

  Outside, I leaned against the metal railing that went up just above my waist. Looking out over the land, there was a few houses and busy roads, but beyond that were fields and land for miles. I had to gather we were on the edge of downtown, a part of the town I never ventured to explore.

  Growing up in a middle-class community, seeing just miles of land was not something I got to see other than the few times my parents and I traveled across the country for church reasons. Where we lived was a better than the trailer park communities with perfect green lawns. Safe, I guess, compared to what I had witnessed the last few days.

  I knew for a fact that dad didn’t make that much money and mom wasn’t allowed to work. I wouldn’t be allowed to work, either. I never questioned how we had a pretty decent house. Name brand things here and there, but still more than what income father always claimed to make.

  As I bided my time for who knows what, I complimented what I should do now. I knew I needed to escape, sure it would be the only way to not be held as a prisoner. The timing would have to be perfect for me to attempt it.

  “Planning on jumping?” Zachariah asked, his voice quiet, but yet there was something else there that I couldn’t name.

  Shrieking, I turned around, hand over my racing heart, coming face to face with the man I had been given to. The man that held my life in his hands.

  “Does everyone sneak up on unexpectant girls?” I breathed out, refusing to meet his eyes. I glared at his firm chest where his arms were crossed.

  “Well . . . are you?” he asked after a moment, tilting his head to the side slightly and ignoring my question.

  “Am I what?” I asked once my heart was back to its normal rhythm. Somewhat. For some reason, just his presence made my body feel different, or at least what I was used to. I was jittery. Not afraid, per se, but it felt that way.

  “Jumping?” he repeated, sounding almost irritated.

  “No,” I squinted. I hadn’t thought of that since I wasn’t up for dying. Not yet, at least. I thought about explaining why I was out here but did it really matter?

  “Good,” he said, sounding relieved. “How about we head inside. I brought food.”

  “I’m not hungry,” I spoke, trying to hide the bitterness I felt.

  “Suit yourself,” he said, yet he didn’t leave. It felt like he didn’t want to leave me alone now that he may have planted the idea of an out for me. I heard him move to take a seat in one of the tan patio chairs, but I tried to ignore him. I always hated thick silences, and I wasn’t known to keep my mouth shut when times called for it.

  Flinging my body around to face the man, forgetting that he was sitting, my train of thought was lost. I couldn’t deny that he looked . . . smoking hot. Sun-kissed skin, dark brown eyes, and a hard look to his eyes. It all drew me in, and God, did I wish he didn’t.

  His dark colored button up shirt with the top three buttons left undone was paired with a pair of dark washed jeans that fit him perfectly. He sat there, arms resting on the arms of the chair as if he was completely at home in this space.

  How the heck was he so dang comfortable about this? There was no possible way unless kidnapping young girls was an everyday thing to him.

  He smirked, making my stomach fill with butterflies as he caught me ogling him. How did he have so much control over me? It couldn’t be possible; we were strangers to one another, for crying out loud!

  Shaking my lust filled thoughts away, knowing there was no place for them, I tore my eyes away, preferring to glare at the floor. I wished it would open up and burn me whole.

  I had thought I was prepared for his return, whenever that would be. Now as we were in the same room, one on one, I was at a loss on how to react. I had all these things I wanted to yell at him, but now those words were lost among so much else.

  “What do you want with me?” I asked after a few minutes, my voice coming out smaller than I had planned.

  “Depends,” he drawled out slowly. “What can you do?”

  What was that supposed to mean?

  “That didn’t answer my question,” I stated, trying to control my anger that was slowly boiling within.

  Man, I was an emotional wreck. Guess that would happen when someone was in the same shoes as I am right now.

  “No, it didn’t,” he said, a smile in his voice.

  “Fine!” I huffed, slapping my hands against my thighs. “I’m here, against my will, and I have no idea why! And no one will answer a single question!” I was tempted to throw a few cuss words in there too for good measure but was able to hold them back. A lady should never cuss, no matter the reasons or circumstances behind doing so.

  “You are here because you were gifted to me,” he said amused, as though I could have forgotten that little detail. Out of the corner of my eyes, I saw him shift his head to the other side like he was trying t
o get a read on me.

  I couldn’t stop my eye roll. “I don’t even know you. Not like it matters. I didn’t belong to that man for him to gift me” I muttered the last part. “I don’t belong to anyone.”

  I had no plans to be here long enough to know him. The stupid man wouldn’t even tell me anything. I still had no idea what would happen to me. Was I even safe here? I wasn’t so sure.

  “Well,” he spoke, pushing himself up and taking the few short steps that separated us. It was then that I noticed just how much taller he was compared to me. Easily half a foot taller. My head came to the underside of his whiskered chin.