Chapter 106 Following Orders
Sierra didn’t know when she fell asleep. One moment, she was shivering on the sofa, the cool evening air seeping through the floor-to-ceiling windows of Julian’s lavish Flagstaff suite, and the next, dawn light bled across the sandstone cliffs outside, painting the sky in bruised purples and golds, the same hues blooming across her skin.
She woke to the sharp command of his voice.
“Get cleaned up and dressed. We’re going to Aspen.”
He stood near the window, already pristine in a charcoal-gray cashmere overcoat and a navy silk scarf draped with effortless precision. His presence filled the room like a storm front, inescapable, oppressive. She didn’t move at first, her body a map of agony: her hips sore from being pinned, her backside a lattice of fire, her spirit hollowed out.
But she could see no other choice.
She pushed herself up slowly, muscles screaming, wincing as her bare feet touched the cold marble. Not a word passed between them. Not a glance. She walked to the bathroom, her gait uneven, and shut the door. The lock clicked, a meaningless gesture.
The shower ran too hot. Steam curled around her like a shroud. She scrubbed at her skin until it turned red, her nails scraping over the welts, the places where his hands had gripped too tightly, where he had forced himself into places no one ever had. She wanted to scream. To break something. To vanish.
Instead, she finished her shower, toweled off, and dressed in silence, black Prada trousers, a cream silk blouse, and a tailored camel coat. Luxury armor. She fixed her makeup with steady hands, hiding the shadows under her eyes, the tremor in her lips. Sandy blonde hair, cut in a sleek bob, fell perfectly into place. The woman in the mirror looked collected. Professional. Alive.
She wasn’t.
Julian waited in the room beyond, sipping espresso from a china cup. “There she is,” he said, as if nothing had happened. “My favorite partner.”
The word partner slithered through her like ice. She said nothing.
They rode in silence to the terminal. The jet gleamed on the tarmac, silver wings cutting into the pale morning light. What had once symbolized freedom, jetting off on business trips in Italian leather seats while drinking champagne, closing deals in far-off cities, now felt like a gilded cage. The cabin was all luxury and ambient lighting, a floating palace in the sky. She sat across from him, knees pressed together, hands folded in her lap.
“Beautiful morning,” Julian said, unfolding a copy of The Financial Times. “Perfect flying weather.”
She stared out the window as the engines roared to life, the plane lifting gracefully into the air. Her heart pounded, not from motion, but from the man across from her, still so at ease. There was no trace of regret or remorse in his demeanor. He was completely untouched by what he’d done to her.
They passed over red rock canyons and snow-dusted mesas. Julian made idle conversation, market trends, an upcoming gala, and a mutual acquaintance’s divorce. Sierra didn’t respond. Her jaw clenched tighter with each passing minute.
Finally, after nearly an hour of silence, she spoke. Her voice was low, brittle, like glass about to fracture.
“You raped me.”
The cabin fell still.
Julian lowered his paper. His eyes narrowed, not with anger, amusement flickered at the corners of his lips. “Some women like that sort of thing,” he said, almost gently. “It’s about intensity. Passion. You’ve always responded well to control. I’ve been told that some have a very intense orgasm that way.”
Her breath hitched. “I’m not one of them.”
He studied her, then sighed, folding the paper. “Sierra. You knew what this was. You knew. This relationship was not for the faint of heart. But you’re not weak. You’re strong. You belong in this world. You just need to learn how to play by its rules, accept things as they are, and adapt.”
She glared at him then, studied him carefully, his sharp jaw, his dark eyes that once made her feel desired, now only made her feel sick.
“I belong with my brother,” she whispered. “I belong at the ranch. I belong away from you.”
He smiled, slow and knowing. “And yet, here you are.”
Aspen was a postcard of alpine opulence, snow-laced peaks, chalets with smoked glass and heated driveways, billionaires skiing in designer goggles. Julian had business meetings all day, touring luxury developments on the east ridge overlooking the valley. He brought Sierra with him, as if she were his prized accessory.
“Your opinion?” he asked outside one glass-and-stone monstrosity, all sharp angles and floor-to-ceiling glacier views.
She looked at the building. Cold. Impersonal. Imposing.
“This one,” she said flatly, pointing to the oldest, most poorly maintained structure on the block. “It’s outdated. The foundation looks unstable. The HVAC system is probably ancient, and it will probably collapse under the weight of the snow next season. With any luck, you’ll be inside it.”
Julian laughed, delighted. “At least I know which one not to buy.”
He wrapped an arm around her shoulders, pulling her close as they walked back to the waiting Range Rover. She didn’t flinch. Didn’t resist. But inside, something was hardening, like ice forming beneath still water.
That night, they dined at an exclusive members-only lodge. Julian schmoozed with investors, tossing out numbers like confetti. Sierra sipped sparkling water and remembered the last time she’d laughed freely, on the porch of the ranch, with Ryder, the smell of sage and wood smoke in the air, his calloused hand brushing hers.
She missed all of that like a limb torn off.
Back on the jet, the ascent into the night was seamless. The cabin lights dimmed. Julian sipped a tumbler of single malt, scrolling through his tablet. Sierra stared out the window. The Rocky Mountains stretched below, vast and ancient, cloaked in the light of a full moon.
Her phone buzzed in her pocket.
She ignored it.
“You should probably check that,” Julian suggested. “It might be your office or Cody.”
You considered defying him, but she was curious.
One message. From an unknown number:
If you survive this, go to the ranch. I’ll come to you there.
Her eyes flew open, wide with shock. She gasped.
“What was that…” Julian started to ask.
Without warning, the plane lurched, interrupting him.
A violent shudder rocked the cabin. The liquor cabinets rattled, and those not secured flew open. The seatbelt across Sierra’s chest and hips tightened as she was thrown forward, then yanked back.
Julian dropped his glass. It shattered. “What the hell?”
The pilot’s voice crackled over the intercom, tight with urgency. “Sir, we have an emergency. Brace for an emergency descent.”
Another jolt. The jet banked hard to the left. Lights flickered. Sierra’s breath came fast. The world outside spun, dark peaks rising too fast, snow-covered ridges rushing toward them.
Julian gripped the armrests, face pale. “Fix it!” he shouted at no one.
The plane screamed through the night, altitude dropping rapidly. The mountains loomed closer. Sierra closed her eyes.
Not like this.
Not here.
Not under the shadow of the man who had broken her.
Below, the jagged teeth of the Rockies waited.
And somewhere, deep inside her, something fierce began to rise, something welling up from the primal core of her being.
She wanted to live.