The Sacrifice: A Dark Revenge Romance

I’ve never been to Tyson’s house. When my sister dated him, he lived at the house of Lords, which is where all the Lords are required to live while attending Barrington. Lords come from all around the world to attend Barrington during their years of initiation, so they make them all stay under one roof where they can be watched twenty-four seven. That is until their senior year. They have more freedom then once they’re given their chosens.

So when he pulls through a wrought-iron gate and up to a house that could only be described as a haunted mansion, my eyes widen in surprise.

It sits back in the woods, hidden from the road. It’s white with black trim and a matching roof. He brings the car to a stop, and I get out. I wonder how long he’s even had this place. He seems to live at Blackout.

Tyson walks up the stone steps to the black double doors and opens them. It doesn’t surprise me that they weren’t even locked. “I’ve got some work to do,” he says. “I’ll be in my study.” He checks his watch and adds, “You’ve got an hour before they arrive.”

“Who?” I ask nervously. Hopefully he’s not talking about my parents. I don’t mind seeing them at the party where there will be a lot of people. I can try to avoid them or let Tyson do all the talking. I’m not sure I can face my father after all the things he said to me in the hallway closet at Blackout. But here? In this house? I don’t want to be alone with just the four of us.

“I’ve got some ladies bringing you a few dress selections,” he answers.

“Oh,” I say, surprised. “Is the party that important?” The Lords have always gone all out for their parties and celebrations. But I’d think they would have the party at the cathedral if it was that big of a deal.

He reaches out and takes a strand of my wild hair between his fingers. I look up at him through my dark lashes as his pretty blue eyes search mine. “It is for us. It’ll be our first public appearance as Mr. and Mrs. Crawford.”

I swallow nervously, wondering what he’ll do before we leave here tonight. Will he have me bend over so he can put a butt plug in my ass? Will he make me wear my shock collar? Or will he make me wear wrist cuffs? A leash? Maybe he’ll take a marker and write Tyson’s bitch on my forehead. My parents will be there, so it would make sense for Tyson to claim me in front of them.

A smirk appears on his handsome face as if he’s reading my mind, and he leans forward, gently kissing my forehead. I don’t know why I whimper, but the action feels too intimate. I’d rather him bend me over and fuck my pussy until I’m begging to come than show love and affection. I think he knows that, and that’s why he does it. He has to throw in a little tenderness with the fucks to keep me constantly guessing his intentions.

“Mr. and Mrs. Crawford. Welcome home.”

Tyson pulls back, and I look over to a man standing in the foyer. He’s dressed in a black and white tux with a kind smile and his arms behind his back. He looks to be in his fifties with dark hair and green eyes.

“Lake, this is William. William, this is Laikyn.” Tyson introduces me to who I can only guess is his butler. Of course, he has one. Why are we staying at Blackout when we could be living here?

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Crawford.” He reaches out his right hand.

I place mine in his, and he brings it to his lips, kissing my knuckles. “Please call me Lake.”

Tyson’s cell rings, and he pulls it out of his pocket. “I have to take this.”

“Go. I’ll show Mrs. Crawford to the master suite.” William informs him, obviously going to ignore the fact that I want to be called Lake.

Tyson answers his cell and immediately starts walking up the grand staircase to where I’m guessing his study is. I look over the black banister and the pristine white carpet. This place is gorgeous. The while walls have different sizes of black-and-white abstract art hanging in various places. There’s none of himself or anyone else from what I can see.

“Please follow me, Mrs. Crawford,” William says, turning and walking down a hallway.

“How long have you worked for Tyson?” I ask, being nosy. Tyson isn’t going to tell me anything, so I might as well try my shot with William.

“Since he was a young boy,” he answers, and I come to a stop.

He worked for Tyson’s parents. I’m sure when Tyson bought this house, he moved with him. Meaning, he probably knew my sister.

“Everything okay, Mrs. Crawford?” he asks, noticing I’ve stopped walking.

I meet his stare. The question on the tip of my tongue is to ask if he knew Whitney, but I can’t get the words out. He steps closer to me, and I break the stare and look to my right. There’s an open door. I frown, stepping into it. There are boxes everywhere. But it’s what I see hanging from the ceiling that makes my heart skip a beat. “Where did you get that?” I point at my wedding dress.

“Your mother had all these brought over for you,” he answers. “I ordered a display case for it. It should be here next week.” William smiles proudly at me. “It was made to fit your dress.”

“What?” I ask wide-eyed. “What-what is in all of these boxes?” How did my mother get this stuff here? I left the dress in the honeymoon suite.

“Items from your wedding, ma’am.”

“Items from my wedding?” I repeat, whispering to myself. I rip open a box that sits on top of a table and look inside to find black tapered candles. They’re from the Lords’ table at the altar. There has to be more than twenty inside. There’s a smaller box and it has my heels from that day.

I open another box, and my chest tightens when I see it’s nothing but pictures. They’re of my sister and me; they were in my room back at our parents’ house. “Does Tyson know this stuff is here?” I ask numbly. Looking over, I see the bag that Tyson had me leave behind in the hotel room.

“Yes, ma’am.” He nods. “He arranged it.”

Why is all this here? What am I supposed to do with it and why did Tyson not tell me? “I don’t understand why he’d do this,” I say softly.

“If I may …” William clears his throat, and I look at him, trying to ignore the way my heart races from all my stuff in this room. “Mr. Crawford isn’t a bad man. He’s just the type who does whatever needs to be done,” he says simply as if I’m supposed to know what that means.

He looks at me expectantly, and I lick my lips, remembering my manners. “Thank you.” The way he frowns tells me he’s not buying my gratitude.

“Of course.” He nods and walks over to the door, holding it open for me. “This way.”

I follow him down a long hallway and take a right toward a set of black double doors. He pushes them open. “Your master suite, Mrs. Crawford.”

I step inside to see the large room. A black four-post Alaskan king-size bed sets up against a dark gray wall with black silk sheets and duvet. White and red decorative pillows have been fluffed and strategically placed. It’s obvious more than just William takes care of this place. No man cares that much about their bed, especially one that doesn’t live here. A white leather couch sits at the foot of the bed with a blanket draped across the armrest.

“I’ll leave you to it, Mrs. Crawford. Our guests should be arriving soon,” he reminds me, closing the bedroom door behind him.

I enter the bathroom to see all of my products that Tyson had delivered to the apartment at Blackout are also here. From my shampoo to my soap. From my razor to my favorite lotion. I hate that it makes me smile.

Getting undressed, I enter the shower, starting to get ready and trying not to think about the spare bedroom that has all of my stuff in it.

“Mrs. Crawford?” a woman says.

“Yes?” I exit the bathroom to find three women standing in the master suite. One looks to be fifty, dressed in an all-white suit with fire-engine red heels on. The other two look to be her daughters around my age. They all three smile at me. They’re whispering and giggling to one another. “Please call me Lake.”

“Ladies.” The older woman says tightly when she sees me. The two others straighten and clear their throats.

“Lake.” She gives me a soft nod. “Mr. Crawford wanted us to show you some dresses.” The older woman smiles at me brightly. “We’ve brought quite a selection for you. Is it okay to set them up in here? Or would you like them somewhere else?”

“Here is fine,” I answer nervously.

“We’ll have everything brought in and set up for you,” she says, and they all three turn to leave the bedroom.

“I can’t believe we’re in Tyson’s house.” One of the girls squeals.

“Right?” the other agrees. “God, she’s so pretty. They make a perfect couple.” Their whispering voices trail off as they walk down the hallway, and I stand nibbling on my lip, not sure what I’m supposed to be doing.

They return with garment bags hanging on racks that are on wheels. More than I can count. And they wheel in trunks that are full of heels when they open them.

“May I ask you a personal question?” the young brunette asks me.

The other’s eyes dart around the room, making sure their mother isn’t close enough to hear it.

“Sure.”

“Can I see your ring?” She looks down at my hand.

I lift my left hand, and she gently holds it, looking at the ring. I’ve never really paid much attention to it other than that one time while in the bathtub on our wedding day. It’s been an annoyance, a reminder of my life sentence.

“It’s gorgeous,” the girl says in awe, staring at it.

“It is.” I agree. Even I can’t deny that.

“I heard he flew to Paris and had it specially made just for you,” she continues, her eyes coming up to meet mine.

I shake my head. “Oh, I—”

“I heard that he paid millions—with an s—for it.”

I laugh at that. “No…”

Her face goes serious, and I stop talking. “A red diamond is the rarest diamond color in the world,” she informs me.

“Oh,” I say. It reminds me of a bleeding heart with its intense crimson color. Or blood since we had to bleed for one another. I highly doubt Tyson picked this ring for anything other than a sick reminder that I’m bound to him until one of us dies.

“They are also the most expensive diamond per carat of all colored diamonds,” the other adds.

“Ladies,” their mother snaps, entering the room, and they scramble back to face her.

“Yes, Mother?” they ask in unison.

“Do not bother Mrs. Crawford,” She scolds them.

“Oh, they weren’t bothering me,” I assure her.

She gives me a tight smile and I avert my eyes, afraid I’m now in trouble. “Let’s get started.” She claps her hands.

As they start pulling out dresses for me to look at, I examine my ring. It really is gorgeous. But they have to be rumors. Tyson wouldn’t go that far out of his way to have a ring made for me or pay that much money for a woman he doesn’t love.

TYSON

I’m in my study when my cell rings. I’m about to turn the fucking thing off, not in the mood to deal with it tonight. “Hello?” I ask, holding in a sigh when I see who it is.

“Son.” My father’s voice sounds just as dead as it always has. “Your mother wanted me to call.” Of course, she did. I haven’t heard directly from my mother since she found out that I wasn’t going to live the life that her and my father raised me for. “She’s expecting to meet our daughter-in-law tonight.”

I love how he said she. Because I know he doesn’t give a fuck. “We’ll be at the house of Lords,” I say.

“I will let her know.” He hangs up. Nothing else for him to say.

He could have done that in a text. I drop my phone to my desk and run my hands through my hair as a knock sounds on my door. “Come in.”

William enters. “Can I get you anything, sir?”

“I’ll take a whiskey. Neat,” I say. “Thank you.”

“My pleasure, sir.” He goes to leave but turns back around to face me. “Mrs. Crawford found her things in the spare room, sir.”

“How did she find them?” I growl.

“I apologize, sir. I had left the door open.”

So what if she knows I brought her things here? It doesn’t mean anything. Her parents already had her stuff packed up, ready to be delivered to Luke’s house. I just intercepted them. “Thanks for letting me know.” I wave it off, and he shuts the door.

My cell goes off once more and I grind my teeth. “What?” I bark out, not even bothering to look and see who it is.

“Hello to you too,” the voice says coldly on the other end.

I pull the phone from my ear to see BLOCKED on my screen. “You better have something for calling me.”

“I do.”

“Well?” I’m not in the mood for games tonight. At least, not the kind they want to play. I do, however, have some that I’m going to play with my wife. And they’re keeping me from that.

“I’m calling to confirm.”

I lean back in my seat. Surprised but also pissed off about it. My body heat instantly rising as I fist my hand around the phone. “And?” I growl through gritted teeth.

“No location at this time,” he answers before hanging up, knowing I don’t want to speak to him if he has nothing to give me.

I let the phone drop to my desk and then slam my hands down onto it. I fucking knew it!

My door opens, and William enters, setting my drink on the desk.

“Bring me another one, please,” I say, knowing I’ll need several tonight.