Chance (16 page)

Well, that was her idea,
anyway. It seemed like a potential plan. It was something for her to hold on
to, to give her hope for her future. She’d already managed to spy on the two
men at her wedding. Surely, she could do some spying and snooping around again,
now that something extremely important was at stake.

If nothing else, maybe spying
would add a little more excitement to her otherwise dull and dreary daily life.
Being held prisoner was incredibly boring.

She silently nodded her
agreement. Yes. She'd stay with him and be his pretty, sexy wife who did as she
was told. Hopefully, not for very much longer. Any love she'd once had for him had
died a long time ago. She'd devote her life to getting out. She'd figure out how
she'd achieve her goal.

Logan seemed satisfied by
her apparent submission and nodded back at her, moving his head very slowly.

“Good,” he said, with a
bitter smile. “You’re making the right decision, Charlotte. Now, I think you
owe me an apology.”

His hand suddenly whipped
out and he grabbed Charlotte by her hair. He forced her down to her knees and
then unzipped his jeans. She gasped at the huge bulge in his pants, which
conveyed just how much his victory over her had turned him on. Now, he was
going to take his spoils.

The idea of orally
servicing Logan was revolting to Charlotte. She'd never hated him more than at
that moment. Hell, she'd rather bite his cock HARD than give him pleasure. On
top of that, the fact his arousal had been the result of his hateful, evil and successful
blackmail of her, to keep her as his prisoner, only made the idea of sucking
him off more repulsive to her.

Yet, she didn’t protest.
Charlotte decided it was best to just go through the motions and make Logan
think he'd won. Well, that he'd won more than her submission and agreement to
stay with him. She wanted him to believe she'd given up totally.

She took his hard dick into
her mouth.

He'd won this battle…for
now, at least.

As Charlotte moved her
hand and mouth up and down the length of Logan's cock, she began to plot how
she'd find out what dirt he had on her father. She mechanically went through
the motions of sucking and stroking his cock. She barely paid any attention to
the task she was doing. Only when his panting and groaning grew louder and more
frequent, did she tune in to him again.

Charlotte felt Logan's
cock swelling even further and she knew he was close to his release. She braced
herself, preparing to swallow his bittersweet essence. At the last moment, she
was surprised when he pulled out of her mouth and ejaculated all over her face.
It was the first time he'd ever done that. She gagged at the smell and the
humiliation of the words that followed.

“That’s my good little whore!”
he said, looking closely at her, savoring the rather sexy image of his
handiwork, as well as her tears running down her face.

“Now, why don’t you run
on upstairs and unpack those clothes. I’ll make us both dinner.”

He tucked his spent cock
into his pants, zipped up his fly and walked out of the room whistling happily.

So that was how it
happened. That was why and how Charlotte gave in to Logan after her first
attempt to leave him. She wound up submitting to his blackmail, satisfying his
arousal, unpacking her suitcase and staying with him. However, through it all, her
focus was on her new goal in life.

Charlotte had made an
important decision. She was going to devote her life to uncovering any
information Logan had about her father. She wanted to destroy any proof and be
able to leave him without fearing anything bad might happen to her family because
of her bad choice of a husband. They should never suffer because of her.

Charlotte had tried that
first time because of how miserable she'd been living as Logan's prisoner.
However, as bad as her situation had been up until then, that was only a
glimpse into what her future with him would become. From that point forward, things
changed. His rules became even more strict and controlling. He became even more
suffocating as he dominated her with his every whim. She became more and more miserable.

The only time Charlotte was
alone was when Logan went out to work, which happened unpredictably and irregularly.
Sometimes he'd go out for only an hour or two. Sometimes he'd be away an entire
day. Sometimes he'd leave at around six pm and not return until the early hours
of the morning.

Those nights, Charlotte would
often find herself lying alone in their bed, bitterly hoping he'd never return.
She'd even hoped perhaps he'd run into the same person who had shot him before.
She hated to think like that. She hated being filled with rage and hatred.
However, being controlled, abused and held prisoner as she was, she couldn't
help it.

Charlotte would try to stop
her thoughts from becoming even darker, revolving around Logan's death. Whenever
she'd think about the night he was shot, her thoughts would invariably drift to
her time in the hospital, fixating on the handsome doctor she'd met there. She
still remembered the spark they had between them. She'd often fantasized about
what might've happened if Logan had died that night. She'd fall asleep
imagining the doctor taking her in his strong arms, comforting her.

The length of time Logan
would be gone varied considerably, as well. He could be away as long as twelve
hours, or as little as one hour. The days of the week didn’t seem to make a
difference, either, when it came to him working. He could work all day or night
on a Sunday, but not at all on a Wednesday. Once he'd even gone five days in a
row without going into work at all. There was truly no way to predict his work
schedule.

The times Charlotte and
Logan spent together were almost as unpredictable as his being away at work.
They'd have days that were oddly enjoyable, with his sensitive, caring side
creeping out, making it difficult for her to ignore. He could be so loving,
attentive, complimentary and nice to her. He'd treat her like a queen. If only
he'd be like that all the time—then maybe it wouldn't be so bad to be kept
against her will.

His inconsistent treatment
of her was so confusing. It caused her to experience so many different feelings.
She knew some of her confusion and emotional turmoil was simply because she was
stir crazy. Logan was literally the only person she saw. She was often so lonely
and hungry just to have somebody to talk to or spend time with. She'd be
desperate for company.

On the one hand, even
though she suspected Logan was deeply mentally ill, she still had some feelings
of love for him. She'd find herself occasionally holding on to a strange hope
he'd stay loving and tender towards her, that he'd change and start to act
differently…but sadly, the bad Logan always returned.  

No matter what she felt
for him, she never forgot the threat he'd made against her father. She looked
forward to the times when Logan left the house. Not only was it her alone time,
it also gave her something interesting to do. Something worthwhile. It was her only
opportunities to investigate and try to find out what Logan was hiding from her.

She didn't know where to
begin, at first. The fact she could never be sure when Logan would return home,
made her exploration even more difficult and exceptionally tense. She began to believe
she'd become addicted to the thrill of it. Charlotte had never been a big risk
taker. She'd never had any desire to go sky diving, white water rafting or
other risky activities.

However, the constant
adrenalin rush of fear that he could walk in the door at any moment and catch
her became huge for her. A couple of times, she'd very narrowly missed being caught
in the act of snooping. It was strange, but instead of putting her off to her
investigations, she found herself growing bolder each time.

She'd decided to start investigating
in his office. It seemed like the most obvious place for her to begin.
Sometimes he'd spend hours in there alone, just tapping away on his computer.
Of course, she was never allowed to enter that room or even to ask him what he
was doing. He'd simply say it he was 'working' and that was the end of the
conversation. Charlotte was certainly used to that.

The first time she
attempted to enter his office while he was away, she discovered the door was
locked. She figured his keeping it locked up was a good sign something secretive
was hidden inside. However, she had no clue as to how she'd ever get in. Unlike
Logan, who probably knew all kinds of covert, illegal activities like picking
locks, Charlotte didn’t. She was stumped.

She decided the best
course of action for her was to watch Logan closely when he locked up the
office. She could try to figure out where he kept the key. Then she'd need to
steal it from him later and use it to open the door. Of course, if she ever did
manage to get into the room, she'd have to be careful to cover her tracks
afterward.

Charlotte would always need
to lock the office up again after going in there. She'd also need to return the
key to its hiding place before he noticed it was missing. Those goals were a
very tall order to fill and were highly dangerous. She couldn’t even imagine
how angry he'd be if he ever found out what she’d been up to. That thought
terrified her.

Once she knew what she'd
have to do, it didn't take long to get the ball rolling. The very next day,
Logan spent a couple hours in the office, doing God only knows what. Charlotte had
been trying to keep tabs on Logan. She was attempting to remain aware of where
he was and what he was doing, as best as she could when he was in the house.

While he'd been in his
office, Charlotte was in the living room. She had her sketchpad on her knee,
working on some drawings of the new dress she'd been designing. Not
surprisingly, her career as a freelance designer hadn’t advanced any further
since Logan had encouraged her to quit her job. His promises to act as her
agent had never been fulfilled.

When Charlotte really
thought about him trying to help her by acting as an agent, in all likelihood, he'd
meet with failure. Logan would probably be much more likely to scare off prospective
business partners and clients than to sell them anything. He was a rather
intense and imposing man.

In fact, before her attempt
to leave Logan, they had actually attended one meeting together, with a
gentleman who had shown interest in one of Charlotte’s winter coat designs. It
had taken her over a full week of nagging and begging him to get Logan to agree
to go, and of course, to allow
her
to go to the meeting. He'd finally
agreed, reluctantly.

Once they were at the
meeting, Logan spent most of the time glaring daggers at the poor man from
across the table. Then he'd begun quizzing him. He grilled him about his
personal life. Then he started questioning what his ‘real’ interest in
Charlotte was. The poor man was perplexed. He appeared to be pretty freaked out
by the ordeal. Not surprisingly, he'd never returned any of Charlotte’s emails
after that. Hell, she wouldn't have blamed him or have been surprised if the poor,
scared guy had filed a formal protection order against both Logan and herself.

When Charlotte heard the
creaking of the big black leather office chair and then the sound of footsteps,
she knew instantly Logan had stood up from his desk and was going to leave his
office. She quickly put down her notepad and pencil and jumped up silently from
the sofa, padding towards the doorway. She peered into the hall where she could
clearly see the office door.

It was wide open, as
usual. Logan always kept the door open when he was in there, as if it was some
kind of challenge. He knew he could leave that door wide open and Charlotte
would never go in there; never disturb him, because he had that power over her.
She knew he enjoyed the power he wielded.

As she watched, Logan
approached the tall filing cabinet that was up against the interior wall of the
office, the wall nearest the door. He opened one of the drawers and slipped the
sheet of paper that he held in his hand deep inside its compartment. Then he closed
it and locked the drawer with a tiny key.

Logan then turned towards
the door, ready to leave. Charlotte inched back just a little more. She was
aware that she was in his line of vision and that if he looked her way, he'd
see her watching him. He'd most likely figure out what she was up to if he saw
her there.

He walked through the
entryway and closed the door gently behind him. He then turned, locked it and stashed
the key into the right-hand, front pocket of his jeans. That was not good news
for her. How would she ever be able to get the key from there? She'd have to
wait until he got undressed that evening. Would he empty his pockets before
bedtime and put the contents somewhere else or just leave them in there the
entire time?

Charlotte spent the rest
of that day watching him like a hawk. She paid especially close attention to
his hands and the precious pocket of his. She wanted to be sure that she'd know
whether he'd transfer the key over to another location at any point or if he'd just
leave it there. A couple of times, he'd caught her staring at him and he'd given
her a soft smile, seemingly happy she'd been looking at him.

“I love you,” she'd lie.

She knew he loved hearing
those words from her. He sometimes obsessed about it, demanded it. Whenever she'd
offered them to him voluntarily, they always seemed to have a soothing effect. Charlotte
knew she had to play the doting wife for him. It was her job, part of the
brief. She wanted to lull him into a false sense of security while she looked
for the information she needed to set her free.

“I love you, too,” he'd respond.
“You’re all mine, aren’t you?”

“Of course I am. I'm all
yours, forever,” she'd assure him. “Would you like a cup of coffee?”

He also seemed to love
and appreciate whenever she'd offer to do anything for him. However, normally
he was the one who did so much for her. They'd continued to stick to their
original arrangements with regard to cooking. Logan did most of the housework,
as well. All he expected of her was for her to look pretty, provide sex on
demand, not to question him, as well as complete obedience, of course.

He'd encourage her to
complete more ‘wifely’ tasks only occasionally, saying things like, “it would
be nice if you'd iron my shirts today, sweetheart. That’s what good wives do."
She'd always do as he asked without question, even if she didn’t want to.
However, he was always nice about those kinds of things, never really demanding
them of her.

“I’d love coffee. Thank
you, sweetheart," he answered with a broad smile.

This was a bit of a tricky
situation. She'd decided that in order to placate him and to stop him from wondering
why she kept staring at his pockets, it would be best if she'd distract him. To
do that, she'd make him coffee and give him anything else he needed.
Unfortunately, that plan involved her having to leave him. With him out of her
sight, the key could easy change locations without her knowing it. This risk,
she believed, she must take.

Normally, she'd be
looking for every excuse to have a bit of peace and quiet. Charlotte always
appreciated a few moments away from him and away from the constant pressure she
felt she was under whenever he was around, because of his demands and
expectations. Now, she wanted to be with him twenty-four hours a day, seven
days a week, until she knew where he'd leave the key she wanted so badly.

“Will you come with me to
the kitchen?” she asked teasingly, cocking her head to one side and
provocatively twirling her hair around her finger, giving him a sexy look.

“I just can’t seem to keep
my eyes off of you, today. You're so handsome,” she said, knowing he'd fall for
the compliment hook, line and sinker.

“Oh?” He raised an
eyebrow and chuckled, clearly very pleased to hear this from her.

It certainly worked. He
wasn't the least suspicious of her uncharacteristically staring at him or being
so attentive.

“Well then, maybe we
should just…” He approached her and wrapped his hands around her waist, pulling
her into him. He kissed her forehead. “Skip the coffee and head straight to the
bedroom? Hmm? Then you won’t
have
to keep your eyes
or your hands
off of me, will you?”

“Mmm, no I won’t,” she
murmured quietly, leaning into his chest.