Chapter 114 - ONE HUNDRED AND FOURTEEN

Chapter 114: Chapter ONE HUNDRED AND FOURTEEN

ANGEL

The figure stepped into the light and my brain stopped working.

Dr. Moreau.

She walked into the room and everything about her was wrong. Gone was the prim therapist in her sensible blazers and pencil skirts. The woman in front of me was wearing a silk blouse that showed off more skin than I’d ever seen on her, the top three buttons undone, her hair loose and tumbling over her shoulders instead of pinned back in that boring professional twist.

She looked like a completely different person. Someone who had been hiding behind a mask this whole time.

"I was just telling our little bitch here about the game we are about to play," Jillian said.

"Hey, Angel." Dr Moreau’s gaze found mine, her voice was warm, friendly even. "I didn’t think we’d see each other again so soon."

I stared at her. Then at Jillian. Then back at her again.

My therapist. The woman Vincenzo had hired to fix his broken daughter. Why was she standing here with Jillian like they were old friends?

Did both of them plan my kidnapping? Disbelief flooded through me.

"What the fuck?" My voice came out hoarse, confused. "How—why are you here?"

Dr Moreau smiled and crossed the room, her heels clicking against the hardwood with each step. She stopped at the foot of the bed and looked down at me.

"No need to be confused, dear. I’ll explain everything." She tilted her head, studying me. "We have all the time in the world."

She moved to the side of the bed and grabbed my face before I could pull away, her fingers firm on my jaw as she turned my head this way and that, examining the damage Jillian had done to my cheek.

"You were too rough with her," she said to Jillian, mocking disapproval in her voice. "Look at this bruising. Poor girl,"

"She deserved worse." Jillian’s voice was hard with rage. "You didn’t hear what she said to me. The filth that came out of her mouth."

"Oh, I’m sure she was vile." Dr Moreau’s thumb found my split lip and pressed against it, hard enough to make fresh pain bloom across my face. I winced and tasted copper on my tongue. "Angel has quite the mouth on her. She showed that to me extensively in our session." Her eyes met mine, dark and amused.

I jerked my face out of her grip. "Get your fucking hands off me."

"There it is." She laughed, low and pleased. "That bratty mouth, there’s no helping your nasty attitude, I’ve seen enough through the camera. Your rottenness is inborn,"

The camera?

What the hell was she talking about?

Then it hit me and my blood ran cold.

The camera in Vincenzo’s bedroom. The one I’d spotted this morning, half-hidden behind that ugly vase on the dresser. I’d thought Daddy had put it there. I’d even put on a show for it, squeezing my tits and blowing kisses, thinking I was teasing him while he sat in his boring meetings.

But it wasn’t Daddy watching.

It was her!

"That was you," I said slowly, then my voice rose in anger. "You’ve been spying on us the whole time?"

Why?

Even if I had been rude to her, Vincenzo had done nothing, so why did she go to this extent? Something wasn’t adding up.

"Celine was watching for me," Dr Moreau said, her red-painted lips curving into a smile that didn’t reach her eyes. "Oh, how she complained about your awful attitude."

Celine?

That bitch was involved in this?

Moreau paused, savouring my confusion. "I must say, Angel, you’re very, very entertaining to watch."

I knew something was wrong with that housekeeper. That simpering bitch. I should have suspected when she said goodbye with that strange little smirk on her face.

"I saw it all," Jillian cut in, her voice dripping with disgust. "You being a desperate whore. Putting on a show for my husband."

A laugh bubbled up my throat before I could stop it. Sharp and mean and completely wrong for my current situation. But fuck it. If I were going to be tortured by these two psychos, I might as well enjoy myself.

"Ex-husband," I corrected sweetly. "He divorced you, remember? Threw you out like yesterday’s garbage." I let my eyes drag over her slowly, taking in every flaw. Her gaunt frame and the chopped hair. . "And honestly? I can see why. You look like a corpse someone forgot to bury. No wonder Daddy got tired of fucking you and needed someone prettier. Someone younger. Someone who could actually make him hard."

Jillian lunged at me, her eyes burning with fury, but Dr Moreau caught her arm before she could reach the bed.

"Not yet, love. Don’t ruin the game before it even starts. We have everything planned already, remember?"

What game? Jillian had said it involved Daddy and Damien.

The thought made me shudder, a cold feeling crept through my chest, spreading into my limbs. What were they planning aside from torturing me? And there was no fucking way Daddy and Damien would work together.

Daddy would kill him before that happened.

"Let me hit her stupid mouth till she loses all her fucking teeth," Jillian hissed.

"It’s not us who will ruin her, love." Dr Moreau’s hand came up to brush the strands of hair from Jillian’s face, her touch gentle, intimate. I saw the open affection in her gaze, the way her eyes softened when she looked at my ex-mom.

Oh.

So that’s what this was.

They weren’t just allies, they were fucking. Probably had been for a while, from the comfortable way they touched each other.

"Where are we?" I demanded, yanking against my restraints even though I knew it was useless.

"My private retreat." Dr Moreau looked around the room with obvious satisfaction, like a proud homeowner showing off her renovation. "No one will find you here, Angel. Unless we want them to."

"Sounds cozy." I forced my voice to stay

mocking, even though my heart was racing. "Did you decorate it yourself? Because honestly, the bookshelf arrangement is giving very lonely lesbian energy." I looked between them with exaggerated innocence. "Oh wait—not so lonely anymore, are you? You found yourself a broken little project to fix. Someone even more pathetic than you. How romantic."