Chapter 9 The Tie

The towering streetlights spilled their luminance into the car, where Chelsey's hand remained ensnared by Trevor's firm grip.

Try as she could to break free, Trevor's hold only tightened like a vice.

In this silent battle of wills, Trevor held all the cards, effortlessly toying with Chelsey.

A flush of anger and embarrassment painted Chelsey's cheeks crimson.

Trevor ceased his teasing and pulled her into an embrace, hoisting her left leg onto his thigh.

His sinewy muscles, cloaked by his trousers, pressed against Chelsey, trapping her as she struggled to free herself.

"Still putting up a fight in such a state?" Trevor lifted the hem of her skirt, revealing the wounds on her calf and heel.

Opting for a long skirt over her usual professional attire, Chelsey had well covered her injuries.

Trevor then removed the scarf around her neck, exposing the bandage.

With a mocking lilt in his voice, he remarked, "Old wounds are still fresh, and now new ones?! Chelsey, you certainly know how to stir the pot."

Chelsey averted her gaze as Trevor's warm fingertips grazed her skin, sending shivers down her spine. It was a reflex, a futile attempt to wrench free.

Inadvertently, her hand hit Trevor's cheek.

A subtly sharp sound resonated.

Killian, the driver, froze, as did Chelsey.

A visible red mark blossomed on Trevor's cheek, and Chelsey felt her hand go numb. She had exerted all her force.

If Lyric were present, he would surely applaud her and remark on her courage.

Yet, despite her actions, Chelsey couldn't shake off a twinge of guilt.

Trevor, save for his childhood abduction, had never faced such humiliation-being struck by a woman.

Although Killian remained composed, he dared not meet Trevor's gaze in the rearview mirror, opting instead to raise the interior partition of the car in silence.

In the confined space, Chelsey's heart raced. "Don't forget, you're about to get engaged!"

"So what?" Trevor shot back, a hint of bitterness in his tone, his tongue pressed against his reddened cheek.

Chelsey adjusted her skirt, lowering her head. "From now on, we're just cousins. You've crossed the line there."

"Why didn't you remember that when you were begging to be more than just cousins? Chelsey, hypocrisy doesn't suit you," he retorted fiercely.

"I was drunk!" Chelsey countered.

Trevor let out a mirthless chuckle. "Denying your actions. If you're going to play games with me, at least play them well!"

His voice, tinged with menace, was close to her ear, catching her off guard.

Before Chelsey could react, she found herself encircled by Trevor's arm. "Do you even believe what you just said?"

Chelsey's heart ached, tears welling up as a lump formed in her throat. "Trevor..."

Lowering his gaze, Trevor glanced at her tear-streaked lashes. Abruptly, he released her. "Chelsey, you never fail to surprise me!"

"Would you mind pulling over?" Chelsey muttered as she sat in the corner.

From the glove compartment, Trevor retrieved a pack of cigarettes, lighting one with indifference. "Do me a favor, and I'll let you off the hook."

He left the request vague, leaving Chelsey to wonder. Trevor was accustomed to getting his way, from childhood into adulthood. What could she possibly do to help him?

The car glided into the neighborhood, a swanky spot where Trevor's estate staked its claim on a corner.

Trevor had plans to take her upstairs.

Chelsey, who had crashed here several times but spent more hours enduring Trevor's advances than catching sleep, had never really poked around. All she knew was that the second floor was his bedroom space, reserved for sleep and whatever else.

She halted abruptly, no longer keen on ascending. "It's getting late, Trevor. You should hit the hay. If Killian has his hands tied, I can drive myself back."

Trevor paused, not bothering to turn around. Then he tossed out casually. "What do you reckon Grandpa would say if he found out your mom has taken the bag from the Copeland family?"

"How did you know it wasn't me?" Chelsey was thrown for a loop there.

Trevor turned his head, a smirk tugging at his lips. "Come on, now. It's not your style. You don't even take the stuff I get for you. Why would you take anything from that bunch of riffraff?"

He didn't even bother asking if she had taken the stuff; he knew better.

Chelsey managed a bitter smile; was this what trust looked like?

"Upstairs you go." Trevor dropped the line without waiting for her response, disappearing into his bedroom.

The threat couldn't have been clearer.

Chelsey followed him into the bedroom, half expecting him to leverage this to coerce her into some clandestine affair, but she was mistaken.

Trevor guided her to the walk-in closet, yanking open a drawer to reveal a neat row of ties, each one crafted from the finest materials.

Among them lay one that Chelsey had bought as a gesture of affection. It could not have cost as much as the others, but it had set her back a good chunk of change.

Yet Trevor had never worn it.

His cold gaze swept over her face, and he chuckled. "Aren't we cousins? With my engagement looming, I need your help to choose a tie."

Every word he uttered felt like a jab.

Taking lives was just business as usual, but Trevor, he knew her weak spots and exactly how to twist the knife!

With that, Chelsey's eyes welled up in an instant. She averted her gaze and said, "Aimee's got better taste. Since you're going with her to pick out wedding dresses the day after tomorrow, why not let her help?"

"But does that fiancée know me better than you do?" Trevor shot her a knowing smile.

A tie was thrust into her hands, and refusal wasn't an option.

"Make it look sharp!" he ordered her coldly.

Trevor towered at 6.2 feet, while Chelsey stood at a modest 5.7 feet. In the past, when she had helped him with his tie, she could reach around his neck with ease.

But today, with her leg throbbing with pain, her movements were restricted. She tried to keep her distance, but Trevor was seemingly oblivious to her discomfort.

Looking down at her from his height, he teased, "Not keen, are you?"

"Not at all."

Summoning her courage, Chelsey stood on her tiptoes. Suddenly, her heel twinged, her leg buckled, and she found herself falling into Trevor's arms.

His hands remained at his sides; he showed no inclination to assist her. He merely taunted, "Quite the charmer, aren't you?"

"You're reading too much into it!" Chelsey gritted her teeth. Taking advantage of his distraction, she swiftly looped the tie around his neck.

In a calculated move, she momentarily tightened it, apologizing verbally while entertaining thoughts of just squeezing the life out of him!

She feigned composure, but to her surprise, Trevor didn't flare up.

Chelsey tied the knot expertly. She knew her way around various knotting techniques, and her favorite was the Windsor knot, perfectly suited to Trevor's demeanor-regal and commanding.

She couldn't help but reminisce about the past: the nights when he had worn her out but rise early to comfort her, coaxing her to tie his tie.

She had been weary, but dreamt of being a good wife to him, indulging in fantasies that were now shattered.

She held her breath as she worked, tears threatening to spill.

Each breath felt like daggers piercing her soul, and she gripped the tie tighter, taking a deep breath as she completed the final loop.

"Done." She released the tie, stepping back.

Trevor stood before the mirror, adjusting the tie with a stoic expression. "This one's not doing it for me. Pick another."