I ended up listening to this ^^^^ song the entire time I was writing this chapter. It's so intense and dramatic, so I thought I'd share it with you. (It's Roxanne from Moulin Rouge for anyone who doesn't know or didn't see that 😜)

Fulsmith was the sort of man who inspired terror, and that terror brought about undying loyalty. Through fear of what would be done to them if they disobeyed, he had acquired servants who would do his bidding no matter the personal cost. That was his strength.

Cassandra discovered this an hour into the maid's ministrations. Her voice was hoarse, and her throat was sore when she realized her pleas were falling on deaf ears. They merely went about their work, silently.

At first, she thought the women had simply been instructed not to speak to her. They certainly looked at her sympathetically, and one of them had tears in her eyes after Cassandra begged for release in a particularly stirring manner. Then one of them opened her mouth, and Cassandra discovered their tongues had been cut out.

Sitting before the mirror as they styled her hair and applied makeup, she felt a heavy sinking in her heart. This was her fate. After Fulsmith was tired of her, she would become like these women, she knew.

Drawing a deep breath, she vowed she would never let that happen. Nickolas and Julian were dead. She would get no help from them, but that didn't mean she was helpless. She'd never thought about taking her own life, but at the moment, it seemed like a pleasant option.

The. . .outfit Fulsmith had chosen for her did, in fact, have a skirt. Four panels of black chiffon attached around her waist with a woven belt: two at her hips and one at the back and at the front. Slits running all the way up to her hips separated the strips of material, and her legs were entirely exposed with every step she took. However, it was something.

It must have taken her at least two and a half hours to get bathed, dressed, and finished. While the time seemed to stretch on forever, it also passed for too quickly, and all too soon, it was time to join Fulsmith for dinner.

One of the maids led her down the stairs. Her heart pounded heavily with every step, and it was the only thing she could hear. She tried to turn back or stop several times, but the woman was relentless in pulling her along until they reached an enormous doorway.

Cassandra could clearly see the large dining room table. It was spread with uncountable amounts of food. It was evident the extravagance was Fulsmith's way of showing her how wealthy he was: there was far too much food for the two of them.

The maid squeezed her hand gently as if to reassure her, but before Cassandra could react to the sudden kindness, the woman was gone, melting into the shadows without a sound. Drawing a shaky breath, Cassandra turned to looking into the room again, trying to force herself to move.

"Do come in." Fulsmith drawled.

She couldn't see him sitting at the table, and the sudden sound of his voice from out of nowhere was slightly terrifying. Tremors of fear ran up and down her spine, and her mouth went dry. She had to get out of here!

Fear grabbed hold of her, threatening to strangle her. She swayed slightly, willing herself to breathe again. If she turned and fled now, she might just make it to the door. . .

"Don't make me come out there and get you." He was nearby, and his voice was low and threatening. "Make no mistake: if you try to run, I will catch you, and you will suffer far more than you could ever imagine."

She was out of options. 'Make him remember you.' The thought pressed into her mind, and she forced herself to straighten. Her fear broiled within her, clamping down on her throat like a wild beast. With all the strength she could muster, she propelled herself into the room.

"Ah," Fulsmith came out of nowhere, taking her arm and leading her to the table.

He pulled out a chair for her, bowing mockingly. She sat down, shuddering as he ran a hand over her basically bare shoulders. The sound of her own heart beating threatened to deafen her, and she wondered if he could hear it.

His nearness overpowered her senses. He was all she could smell or feel, and her sight blurred. Every move he made was deafening in her ears. She had to pull herself together. She had to do something. Had to get out of here.

"I had no idea it would fit you so well." Fulsmith ran his hands down her arms, his breath hot on her ear.

Cassandra couldn't breathe. She sat rigidly in her chair afraid to move lest he decide to pounce upon her. However, he had other things in mind and moved down the length of the table until he was sitting in the chair at the head of the table, putting a good eight feet between them.

With the distance, her mind achieved some clarity. This was where her story ended. She was going to die tonight. The knowledge chilled her to the bone, but it was better than the alternative.

"Please, dig in." He leered at her, his tongue darting out to wet his lips.

Forcing a smile, she scooped something off the nearest tray, dumping it unceremoniously onto her plate. Had her stomach not been twisted into a thousand knots, she might have realized just how hungry she actually was. All she could think about was finding something to defend herself.

On the opposite side of the table, Fulsmith had filled his plate already, his eyes never leaving her. He was intent on watching her every move. Under his intense scrutiny, Cassandra lifted her fork to her mouth.

The food was tasteless. Dry. Her movements tight and awkward, she took another bite. She couldn't focus properly under his penetrating gaze, and as she lifted her wine glass to her lips, it slipped out of her hands.

The crash of the shattering glass was deafening, and she gasped. The red liquid slowly crawled across the pure white tablecloth, staining it like blood. Cassandra shuddered.

"Relax." Fulsmith whispered in her ear.

Cassandra jerked away from him, unsure how he had closed the distance between them so swiftly and silently. His fingers closed on her jaw, a persistent yet painless grasp. He smiled at her.

"Do I frighten you?" He smiled.

She didn't respond. Icy fingers of dread were tracing the length of her spine. She had to act. She had to move now. She couldn't wait. Her fingers crawled across the table, desperately searching for something to use in her defense.

"You needn't be scared. It's just the two of us." He leaned closer, and she pushed further away from him until her chair was biting painfully into her flesh.

He stepped away from her for a brief moment, removing his evening jacket and loosening his cravat. Running a hand through his sparse hair, he pressed close again. One of his hands touched the bare skin of her thigh.

"You can give yourself to me. We can do this the easy way." He breathed, and she nearly gagged on his rank breath.

"Go to hell." Her fingers closed around the handle of a utensil, and she rammed it at him with as much force as she could muster.

Fulsmith bellowed as the meat fork sank into his skin, jerking away from her. Blood spilled down the front of his shirt. She'd gotten him in the soft spot right above his underarm, but she didn't wait to see exactly how much damage she'd caused.

Shoving away from the table, she scrambled in the opposite direction of him. She didn't know where she was going, but she didn't particularly care at the moment. All she could think about was getting away from him.

"So that's how you want to play." His voice gave wings to her feet.

There was no door on the other side of the room. There was only one way of escape, and he stood between her and it. Cassandra turned away from the wall, trying to plan another escape route.

Fulsmith hadn't run after her. He'd known she was trapped. Instead, he moved slowly like a cat about to pounce on its prey. The meat fork was nowhere to be seen now, but his blood had made a path down his shirt.

"Come now, you didn't really think I'd let you get away that easily." His eyes looked over her almost completely exposed body as his lips twisted in a cruel smile. "Did you think I'd go to all that trouble for you to let you escape?"

The distance between them was closing rapidly. She had to do something but what? The windows!

On the wall to her left were two large windows. If she could get to them. . .she'd have to break them, but they might be her only shot at this point.

Pushing away from the wall, she made for the table. She had to find something heavy to. . .

Fingers closed around her arm in an ironlike grasp, jerking her backwards. A cry escaped her lips as Fulsmith pulled her against him.

"No more running, love." His breath stirred her hair, and she heard him inhale deeply. "I'm going to enjoy this."

"No!" She heard herself scream, hardly aware that she'd even opened her mouth.

"Oh, yes." Fulsmith pushed her backwards until the back of her thighs pressed against the edge of the table. "Oh, yes." He repeated, leering darkly at her. "Now you'll pay for this." He indicated his injured shoulder.

"Let. Her. Go." The all-too-familiar voice was like music in her ears, and Cassandra heard herself cry out in relief.

"Nickolas!"

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Christmas came early, y'all! I ended up having far more time and brain power to work on this than I expected—mainly due to the fact that I got food poisoning on Sunday afternoon and puked my guts out so I didn't have to work yesterday. . . .yay. . .🤷‍♀️

Anyway, I wanted to get this up early, because you guys are amazing, and I want you to know that I appreciate every. Single. One. Of you. Truly.

Also, dang, I had myself on edge writing this chapter! I know where this book is going to end, but I feel like there are at least ten more chapters to go. . .hopefully that's cool, because I can't really cut out the stuff that I have planned. . .