Takeover: A Step-Brother Romance (The Legacy Book 1) (26 page)

My stomach heaved.

Was I really about to kill my father?

Jesus.

My father arched an eyebrow. “Can you handle her, Max?”

My brother shrugged. “I tend to be a disciplinarian by nature. I’ll ensure she learns her lesson before, during, and after I breed her.”

Sarah shook her head. My father uncurled the hand from her throat.

I didn’t recognize my voice. “I thought we had an arrangement.”

“Nicholas, the situation has changed.” He stroked Sarah’s side, brushing his hands along her lower belly. She flinched as he parted the soft folds of her slit. “The girl must be disciplined properly to learn her place within our home.”

“I can teach her.”

He nodded. “Son, she will learn how to behave once she’s impregnated. We can’t delay it, not if she’s acting out. Pain is an excellent motivator.”

A shard of glass dropped from Reed’s hand. He hid his bloody palm in his pocket.

“Max’ll do it,” Reed said. “I trust his abilities. His girls are always so…” He held my gaze. “Respectful.”

My father grinned. “A man after my own heart.”

Max stared at the naked, trembling girl. “I’m just old-fashioned. I teach women to respect me before I bed them.”

I tasted blood. Reed’s stare was enough of a warning.

Max would take her then.

Punish her.

Beat her.

Fuck her.

And I knew why. The frustration would shatter my bones, rend my muscles, and choke me on the unspoken profanities.

My father would forever scar Sarah Atwood.

At least Max would leave her alive.

My father released Sarah and tugged on his suit, brushing away the straying bits of glass and wood from his rampage. His demeanor once again encompassed a sense of composed calm, but I saw through shell of a man. Evil lurked behind his passive nod.

“She’s yours then, Max,” he said. “Do with her what you will.”

Sarah tucked her legs under her as she struggled to escape the pool table. Max snapped his fingers at Reed.

“Borrow your belt?” He asked.

Reed had no problem offering Sarah up, but the son of a bitch would give us away. His delay lasted a second too long. Max sneered, but Reed moved before he barked the order again. His hands jerked over the belt. He tossed it to Max. He turned, but my father’s command prevented him from escaping.

“You will watch this,” he said.

We all would.

We all deserved to suffer.

Max tested the leather belt, but the loop he created wasn’t meant to lash her. Sarah flinched and shielded her face as though she expected a strike.

Her eyes flashed pale, wide and terrified.

My heart would shatter with her. She didn’t know it, couldn’t possibly understand it, but sacrificing her to my brother was the only way she’d live to hear my apology.

Sarah flinched from Max, but she couldn’t escape his authority. The belt jerked over her neck. She fought. Ripped at the leather, struggled to get away.

“Enough.” Max had no patience. He immediately tightened it too hard around her throat. Sarah choked, but she should have been accustomed to losing her breath. She went still. Max waited, counting the passing seconds as he earned her fear.

Sarah gasped as he finally let her breathe. He fashioned the belt into a leash and tugged.

“Come with me, baby,” he said. “Follow close.”

She no longer looked at me. Her shoulders sagged. Abandoned.

I’d have taken the pain to spare her what was coming.

Max helped her from the pool table, an arm around her waist. She crumpled to her feet, but attempted to rise. Max gently twisted his fingers in her hair and tugged on the leash.

“No, no,” he whispered. “Crawl for me.”

She shuddered. My father laughed. Reed met my stare.

A plea to stay quiet.

Strength to endure it.

The unspoken order to hide my rage to protect the girl.

And I’d do it. I’d let Max ruin her if only because Sarah Atwood clawed her way under my skin and burrowed deep where she didn’t belong. Her fight, her desire, her delirious heat. She filled my head with unnecessary confusion and dirtied my fingers with dirt from her grave.

Keeping her for myself was a dangerous lust. My father would have noticed. Every second she spent wrapped in my arms was more reason for him to steal her and leave her bloody and broken. To him, Sarah wasn’t a woman. She was an enemy to be bred and a fortune to acquire. Her womb was the only reason she lived, and she was fortunate for the opportunity to offer it to us.

The Mediterranean styled bar set apart from the game room with rolling arches and lavish tiles. Max wrapped the belt over a column and forced Sarah to straddle the marble. He tangled her hands in the bound leather and pushed her forward until she pressed her breasts hard into the stone.

“Flogger or crop?” Max played with her hair, carefully tugging it from under the leash so as not to pinch her.

Sarah shook her head. He patted her cheek and asked again. Her bare shoulders trembled as she clutched the column.

“Flogger. Or. Crop?”

Her voice wavered. “I…don’t know the difference.”

The poor girl.

My father laughed. “Flog her. It’ll teach a greater lesson.”

He settled within a leather chair, admiring how Sarah curled around the column. She cradled against it, either trying to break through or find a way to hide her nudity.

I should have stopped it. I should have taken her, let her cling to me, protected her. But my father watched for signs of disobedience. He expected my fight.

Now was not a time to challenge him. Not with the plans I had in motion, and the deals I made in the quiet dark of betrayal. More was at stake than the lovely paleness of Sarah’s unbroken skin. Billions of dollars, each and every penny depending on his life.

If he believed I was anything but his devoted heir, the company would fall.

And if he thought I forged any sort of loyalty to Sarah Atwood, the girl would be flayed alive.

Had I plunged that wooden shard into his side, we’d have lost everything—the company, the money, and our freedom for the crime.

Sarah unwillingly sacrificed another innocence for the Bennett family.

Max grazed the soft skin along her back. She winced as his hand drifted low, just barely touching the curve of her ass. He pushed her high onto her knees, encouraging her with a whisper.

“I’ll return,” he said. “Stay still, baby.”

Max moved quickly, nodding to our father and limping only once he believed no one looked. I distracted myself at the bar, preparing three tumblers of whiskey. My father accepted the glass with a grin. He gestured to the seat beside him.

Sarah couldn’t see me behind her, but I saw everything. I’d watch it all. Every bite of the flogger. Every blossoming bruise. Every cry.

And I’d make sure this was her last punishment.

Max returned, and Sarah flinched with each of his lumbering, uneven steps. She squeezed the column.

“Max, please…” Her whisper hadn’t broken yet. The shadow of pride lingered in her plea, like she
bargained
for her freedom. “Don’t hurt me. I’ll behave. I’ll go to my room. I won’t bother anyone—”

The flogger whistled before it struck. Sarah’s words curled into a surprised, blistered scream. She slammed against the column, but the belt prevented her from escaping. She crumpled. Max gripped her hair and moved her back into place.

“You aren’t to make a sound,” he said.

My father snorted. “Make her scream. Let her realize no one will come to save her.”

“No.” Max stared at the pink welts creeping over her back. He rubbed a hand over the tender area. “She gives me a headache.”

Sarah would be silent if we forced her to scream, and she’d shriek if we demanded she remained quiet. She swore between gasped breaths, but the insults lessened as Max called to me.

“Nick?” He waved a hand. “Your tie?”

He was smarter than my father believed. He took Reed’s belt, my tie, and he bluffed him into thinking we got off on the charade. The designer tie was one of many, but at least it looked as good resting between Sarah’s lips as it did complimenting my suits.

The dark silk knotted within the pale blonde of Sarah’s hair. She fought it, only until the tickle of the flogger brushed her side. Max praised her behavior.

She wouldn’t be passive for long.

He stood and surveyed his prey. Max wasn’t a subtle man. I understood his preferences even if I didn’t particularly share his methods. The flogger flicked over his hands.

Sarah wasn’t prepared for his strike.

The leather kissed her skin before biting. A jagged crisscross of welts rose from where he previously hit. Her cry muffled. Both Max and my father enjoyed it. Reed downed his whiskey without a sound.

Another swipe.

Sarah jerked, and Max wove his hand over her neck, brushing her fine blonde hair to admire the redness he created.

A third hit.

Sarah coughed over my tie. Whatever she said was lost within the struggle. It hadn’t been polite. I credited Max’s forethought in gagging her.

The fourth hit startled her.

The fifth pained her.

And the six drove her to tears.

She sunk against the column, gasping for air and fighting to stretch the aching skin flushing her back. Her fight earned her no mercy, no pity. The belt only tightened around her neck.

The next strikes crippled her in a breathless agony. Quick flicks of Max’s wrist sliced her skin. The leather wrapped over her sides and tucked against her thighs. It nipped the sensitive welts already abused from my father’s assault.

Max flogged her, but his attack was less severe than the beating with the pool cue.

How the hell could my father hurt such a delicate creature?

The whiskey soured, but its fire extinguished whatever foolish pride might have prevented any more of the spectacle.

Sarah should have known the consequences.

She shouldn’t have left her room.

She shouldn’t have tested me, teased me, enthralled me with her touch.

I should never have let her go.

Her weeping drove my father to the edge of his seat. His hands wove over themselves, as though imagining touching her bruised skin. I trembled in a untested fury.

Max knew what to do. Another strike conquered Sarah. She sunk to the floor when her knees no longer supported her. She didn’t bother hiding her breasts. Her legs twisted, but the pink promise between her thighs flashed to everyone.

The temptation destroyed us all.

Sarah couldn’t fight. She wouldn’t struggle. She’d offer before the flogger touched her again.

I would have taken it. Not a man alive wouldn’t have launched, buried himself inside her, and marked her for his own.

I wondered if she’d ever forgive us.

I wondered more when I started to care.

The flogger dropped. Max’s quick glance was enough of a warning.

“She’s ready.” He seized the belt and released her from the column. “I’ll keep her in one piece.”

My father surveyed her injuries once more. “She’s meant to be bred. Do whatever you wish, but seed her cunt when you’re done.”

“Of course.”

Sarah gripped the leather around her neck as we rose. Reed disappeared. I lingered, buttoning my jacket. She fumed in spitting hatred. Her teeth ground against the tie.

Sarah imagined it was me.

It was the first logical thought the girl had.

And I’d let her hate me. I’d let her curse me. I’d let her blame me.

What was about to happen would be far worse than enduring her temper.

I left Sarah Atwood, naked and helpless, within the arms of my brother.

And I could do nothing to protect her from his desire.

They left me alone with Max.

I sunk against the column. The belt around my neck constricted.

I didn’t want to be flogged anymore. I hated my nudity. I ground my teeth into the tie. It tasted of salt. Tears. Humiliation.

How
dare
they beat me?

I expected it from Darius Bennett. Hell, I was surprised I still lived. The chase through the house only delayed his rage. I should have realized the hunt excited him.

I had no idea it would thrill his second son as well.

Max gifted me a sanctuary to recover from my asthma attack, and he anticipated my needs in the hospital. But that didn’t make him an ally, and I’d forever regret even considering that any Bennett might have helped me. My step-father controlled everyone and everything within the estate.

No one would help me. No one would save me. They all would eventually hurt me.

Including Nicholas.

Foolishness bound me to the column, not the leather belt strapped around my neck. I was beaten because of my idiocy, arrogance, and naivety.

It was my fault I now faced Maxwell Bennett.

But I thanked my every fading fortune that I was not at Darius’s mercy.

“Are you hurting, baby?” Max unraveled Nicholas’s tie. I debated staying quiet.

I wasn’t that strong. “What do you think?”

The flogger rose and fell before I prepared for it. The leather lashes stung against my heated skin. I yelped, crashing against the marble.