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JARROD

Tessa woke up handcuffed to her bed. She stretched and tugged, calculating the pull and the level of grip on her wrists. It was pretty tight. She was eagle-spread on the bed, her legs and hands wide apart. She waited for the fear to settle in, for her heart to jump out of her chest in fright. It didn’t come. She knew who had done it. There was only one person she was vulnerable around to let this happen.

Hayden.

He was sitting on a long chair at the foot of her bed. The room was cast in dim red light, so she couldn’t exactly see his face. She was wearing a tailored trouser and a torn white shirt—completely out of character.

“You’re awake,” he said.

Tessa gulped, the fear now truly settling in at the tone of his voice. It was dangerously low and calm. He was always calm and collected, but this situation was different. Whenever he wanted to have sex with her—which rarely happened—he was extremely rough and excited. He liked to hit her, bite her, and throw her against the wall. He