Seven Weeks: Madam Jolie's Playhouse

By Fanny Lee Savage

The final days...

I own you, Jessica.
A life for a life...


Jess is fighting for her life. After fleeing the Playhouse, she finds herself caught in a web of deceit. Boss Jones is now using Jess as a pawn to gather information about Liam Firth and the rest of F.E.A.R. Enterprises. If she refuses to cooperate, Jess and everyone close to her will be in danger.
Forced to betray the man she's falling for, Jess has only seven weeks to figure out how to free herself from Jones' clutches. With too many secrets to hide, every move she makes threatens to expose her and the deal she's made with her enemy.
But will she have enough time?

Seven Weeks is the final book in Liam and Jess' story, the first few books in the Playhouse Series. This action-packed, steamy romance is the perfect end for Jess and Liam.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Fanny Lee Savage
• Release date: Jun 21, 2023
• ISBN: 9798223636311

Book preview

Chapter One

Thursday Night

Thump.

Thump.

The tires on the asphalt pulse in a rhythmic beat, a low hum in my ears. 

I’m owed, Jessica.

Pain stabs through my chest, threatening to close my throat. I twist the shirt collar, pulling the neck away so I can breathe. It doesn’t help.

I need to be paid, do you understand?

Faintly, I’m aware I nod.

Thump, thump, thump.

The tires hit the white line, and Liam jerks the steering wheel. My stomach lurches from the movement. The mixture of pain pills and the strong drink Liam gave me before we left the club sloshes in my middle. I lean forward to ease the sudden desire to vomit, gripping my belly. My legs stick to the cool leather of the seat, making the cuts slashed across my thighs pull. Pain slices up to my groin, my teeth clenching from the sudden jolt of burning pain running through me. Squeezing my eyes shut, I breathe through the panic tingling at the back of my neck, wrapping like cold fingers around my throat. 

Crack, crack.

Pain laces up the backs of my legs like it’s happening all over again. Grabbing at the collar of my shirt to stop the strangled panic from choking me, I remind myself it’s over. I’m safe. 

I own you, Jessica.

I suck in air, trying to get a full breath again, but the air in the car is too stuffy. 

My life has become like a nightmare that you keep returning to, making you scared to fall asleep again, except I’m terrified to be awake. Jones’ words mix in my head with the sweaty smell of Chuck as he breathed over me, etching his violence into my skin. Every time I try to clear the thoughts from my brain, I can hear Chuck’s voice and the sound of the cane cracking through the room. Hear my muffled screams.

Turn your phone off, Liam says. The sudden sound of his voice jolts a current of electric up my spine. Jones may try to trace you when we don’t show tomorrow.

Liam taps my arm to make sure I’m paying attention as I stare at the phone in my lap. I turn it off, then throw it in the bag at my feet.

Your mom is in a safe place, Liam says. Sam has taken her to a private location to ensure no one knows where she is.

Where? I ask, remembering that my mother was with Jones when he called. He may have told me this earlier, but I can’t seem to hold on to anything long enough to process it correctly.

It’s best you don’t know, he says. That way, if anyone asks, you genuinely don’t know and won’t be forced to lie.

Squeezing my eyes shut, I try to focus, then lean back in the seat, staring out the window. Outside, past the neon glow of the dash lights, a bright moon washes the mangroves in an eerie pale white—a translucent gauze laying over them like a sticky web. Trees slowly get closer and closer together. A gas station with no lights on flies by. We have to be close.

We’re almost there, Liam says quietly as if reading my thoughts. 

I nod, but he can’t see me in the car’s dark interior. 

You’ll like it there, Jess.

I nod again. My vision blurs. 

Thump, thump, thump.

I suck in a deep breath and try to relax my jaw. 

It’s right on the beach.

Images of his home in Miami flood my mind. The gray and metal lines of the building rigid against the smooth sparkling ocean backdrop. Somewhere in the back of my mind, I wonder if it will look the same. Cold steel and soft waves. Just like Liam. 

I built it, he says. It’s the first house I built when I moved here. Kye and the rest helped me with the plans. I go there sometimes to work on sculptures. Or if I need to get away.

Liam shifts in his seat, crinkling the leather. The noise cracks through my head. 

Crack, crack, crack. 

Just like the—

No one knows where it’s at or that I own it, he says, still keeping his voice low. It’s secluded, but I think that’s best for now.

My chest does that tight thing again, and I take another deep breath. I don’t know how long we’ve been driving. Maybe an hour. It could be less. Could be more.

I have a yacht.

Liam loves his yacht, Jessica. Accidents happen.

I swallow the thick lump forming in my throat, tasting sour bile.

We can go out as much as you want, Liam says, unaware of Jones’ words storming through my mind. Have you ever been on a boat, Jess?

With each passing moment, the lump in my chest grows, making breathing difficult. I grip the t-shirt, trying to grasp the pain and rip it out before it kills me. My vision blurs again. Has he sped up? Are we going faster? My throat burns with bitterness, and I struggle to keep it down, covering my mouth with my hand.

I think you’ll love it. We can go fishing. Have you been fishing?

Don’t let Liam or any of his colleagues find out. Bad things will happen.

Claws grip my chest, the feral beast of panic trying to tear through me. Consume me. Kill me. That’s what Jones will do if I don’t listen. He’ll kill Liam. My mother. Me. 

Kye said he’ll be down soon. You should see him, Liam says. He gets sicker than a new sailor out on the water.

I’ll be calling every week for updates.

I nod. Deep in my mind, I know I’m still processing what happened. It’s not settled in yet, and that’s probably for the best. I shift, but the stinging in my thighs reminds me to sit still, the pain revving up like an engine every time I move. I grit my teeth and lean forward in the seat, trying to put my head between my knees. Liam’s voice barely reaches my ears. I think he is trying to reassure me that everything will be okay. 

But it won’t.

From this point forward, you will tell me everything he says, eats, and drinks while you’re with him. When he fucks you, how he fucks you. What projects he is working on, and everything you see him do at F.E.A.R.

Liam rambles on about the boat and fishing, but my thoughts tumble around in my head, making it hard to concentrate. He’s trying to distract me, but I can’t focus on much of anything beyond the thickness in my chest. I suck in air and sit back upright, feeling lightheaded, training my eyes on the road ahead. 

The long stretch of road has disappeared. At some point, we turned and now weave down a narrow street. There aren’t many houses, just a few high fences with elaborately gated driveways. Finally, we come upon a large metal gate and Liam hits a button hidden in the dash. The gates glide open with a slick metal scrape. Little golden lights pop on as we drive down a long gravel driveway. The moon blankets the tall palms and low plants lining the drive. In the distance, a large house comes into view, all lit up. Large frameless sheets of glass for windows. Thick wood beams hold up massive balconies. From what I can see, it’s set back from the ocean with a large lawn, but a huge stucco wall shields the rest from my view. It looks like we should be in the middle of a tropical island resort. 

This is a bachelor pad? I ask.

What? 

I glance over to see the dark brows over his amber eyes scrunched up. Why is he looking at me like that? 

"It’s like an episode of The Bachelor, but Island Paradise Edition," I say.

Liam rubs his eyes roughly, then pinches the bridge of his nose. His shoulders move as he lets out a low chuckle that rattles through the quiet car.

Let’s get you inside, he says. We’re both exhausted. 

He hops out and runs to my side as I try to get out of the SUV. My thighs scream, and I groan as I maneuver my way out of the seat. 

It’s okay, sweets, he whispers, pulling me from the seat. I got you.

I whimper as bolts of pain shoot up my legs, the skin stretching and pulling the lacerations with every move. Clenching my teeth, I breathe around the stinging pain, hating how pathetic I feel. Hate the fear still coursing through me. How weak I feel. That after everything I have been through, Chuck’s cruelty and Jones’ new threats are what’s turning me inside out.

I got you, he says again as he guides me to the front door. 

I want to shove him away, but he’s trying to help me. Every step is like a rusty blade through my skin, the hot stinging pain, a constant reminder of Chuck. 

Crack, crack, crack.

Let me unlock the door, Liam says, fumbling with his keys, his hands shaking. Guilt sours my stomach as I watch him slide the key into the lock and twist it. Shove the door open and reach for me, his hands still trembling.

Liam’s hands are shaking. 

Because of Boss Jones. Because of what Chuck did. 

Because of me. 

And I fucking hate myself for it. It’s my fault Liam’s hands falter.

I own you, Jessica. 

Boss Jones owns me, and since Jones owns me, he now owns Liam. All because my mother tried to protect me. The one time in her pathetic life, she protected me, and this happened. But what do you expect when you murder the mob’s nephew? The mob either kills you or uses you until you’ve paid your due. 

And I’m his new pawn. 

A life for a life.

My life for his nephews.

PART 1

Chapter Two

Week 1

Day 1

Friday 1AM

A warm breeze flickers over my skin like silk. I look at the large glass doors leading to the patio and the inky sky beyond. Liam opened the sliding glass door when we arrived, and I can’t help but think it’s a waste of electricity as the A.C. pumps air from the vent above us.

Talk to me, Jess. Liam’s hand glides over my arm, trying to soothe me. I stiffen, but don’t brush his hand away. He doesn’t deserve that, but I don’t deserve his affection, either, so I shift enough that he notices, and he drops his hand to his lap. The expression of concern on his face eats at my insides, making me feel sick. Liar, that I am. I look away, my guts twisting like gnarled roots on a rotten tree.

I don’t deserve him. I’m a disgusting traitor to the one person who has tried to help and protect me. The one person who maybe even cares for me. Certainly, none of the kindness or compassion he’s trying to show me. Not the promise of a better life. An escape from my harsh reality. 

Are you still in pain? he asks. Liam keeps his voice low when he speaks, like harsh words or too loud a voice will shatter through the numbness created by the pain pills and alcohol he’s feeding me.

I shake my head in response to his endless questions. Are you hungry? Are you cold? No? You’re shaking, Jess.

My skin crawls underneath the dull numbness that the pills have created, and I squeeze my hands into fists, digging my nails into my palms. The pain centers my swirling thoughts enough that I can think, but it doesn’t last. The second I unfurl my fingers, the chaos in my head returns.

Pushing off the couch, I walk to the open sliding glass doors. He’s so scared for me. Little does he know I’m the one he should fear. Jones has ordered me to betray him.

Maybe you should get some sleep, he suggests. 

I’m fine, Liam, I tell him, slipping onto the wooden deck. Stars shine in the black night over the Atlantic, twinkling little eyes watching over us all. I can’t help but feel like those sparkling eyes are judging me.

Liam informed me we were somewhere around the lower keys. Although he is being vague, I saw a sign that showed we were in Marathon Key. He didn’t bother to give me a tour of the house when we came in. Just sat me down, gave me a drink, and now watches me like I might break into a million shards at any second. 

But I won’t.

That’s not who I am. I’m strong. Unbreakable. I got through my life on the mantra that nothing can stop me from getting what I want. I have fought my own battles. Educated myself. Struggled to get where I am. I landed the job in the company I wanted. I’m on my way to getting it all. A little extra too. Problem is, Jones and my new assignment will take it all away. Instead of threatening bodily harm, Jones settled on blackmail. I was an easy target. Now I’m supposed to feed him information.

Part of me wonders if this was his strategy all along. Madam said he had been watching me for weeks. According to Lena, the woman who gave me Madam’s card, Jones was having me followed well before I even stepped foot into her club. That is why she said she brought me in, to begin with. She figured I stood a better chance of surviving whatever Jones had in store for me if the club and Liam protected me. Except her plan backfired. 

Jones must have felt like he hit the lottery when he discovered my interview with Liam and decided that would be the perfect time to swoop in and use me to collect on the debt my mother owed. When Madam interfered, it added to the complications, and Jones used her involvement to instill more fear. I didn’t know he’d already weaseled his way into her club, telling her he’d been placing dangerous hitmen in intimate relationships with her subs, trying to gain more ground. At the rate Jones is going, he’ll own most of Miami by the time he’s done with F.E.A.R. and Madams. 

Then again, I’m sure that is his plan. 

Jess, will you talk to me? Liam says from behind me. 

There is not much to say, I tell him, thrust back to the present. The world sways like I’m on a boat, or maybe it’s me, and I grip the warm wooden handrail. I think the medication and alcohol finally have the effect Liam has been aiming for. I’m okay. I’ll be okay.

Liam remains silent. We both know that isn’t true. 

What are we going to do now? I ask, turning to go back inside, walking carefully so I don’t worry Liam more than he is.

We’ll stay here for a while. Liam grips my arm, so I can’t escape again. Turning me to face him, he wraps his arms around my waist, easing me close. Sinking into his embrace, I soak up his warmth even as my mind screams I’m not worthy. Kye will be here tomorrow. Then we’ll wait and see what happens when we don’t show for the auction.

Right, I say, trying to sort through all the lies. Liam does not know Jones called me, that I’m spying for the mob, and that we aren’t doing the auction. What an asshole I have become. I push back gently, looking around the room like I care about the décor. Usually, I’d be captivated by anything Liam has done, yet right now, I’m not, but I can’t stand still. I can’t stand how he thinks I deserve his softness. His protection. What will Madam do since we aren’t doing the auction?

She’s clever, Liam assures me. She knows how to play this game better than we do.

I wander around the living room, touching the furniture scattered around. I stop at the framed black-and-white photographs taking up an entire wall. A view of the sky between two tall buildings, the glass panels reflecting the stark white sun. A concrete stairwell. A wooden box on its side, with square carpenter pencils spilling out.

The house is like his place in Miami, but large metal archways break up the open floor plan. My brain has become fuzzy in the last few minutes, making concentrating on too many details hard. I walk through another set of metal arches, telling myself I’ll ask for a tour another day. Once in the kitchen, I glance at the microwave above the stove. It’s nearly two a.m.

I have one week until Jones calls, expecting an update. 

And it’s right now, I decide, I won’t be a pawn. In this game, I will be the Queen, letting my enemies think I’m weak and need protection. I’ll do as Jones asks, feeding him tidbits to keep him happy, and in the meantime, I’ll learn exactly what he wants from Liam, Madam, and the rest of the players. Then, once I have gained all I need, I’ll plan my attack. I’ll use whatever means necessary because I’ll be damned if one man thinks he will use me. I’m in charge of this life, this game, and it’s my turn.

Checkmate, Jones.

Check. Mate

Chapter Three

Week 1

Day 1

Friday Morning 9AM

The second I wake up; I know moving is a piss poor idea. A dull throb radiates down the back of my legs, concentrated where the cane must have cut deeper. If I move, the pulsing ache will twist into a vicious, slicing pain.

Turning my head slowly, I look around, trying to figure out where I am. My memories became foggy after talking to Liam last night. There are just faint flickers of being led upstairs into a room and placed in a large, soft bed. At least the cocktail Liam gave me put me into a dreamless sleep that lasted the entire night. 

Next to me, I feel movement and turn my head to find Liam sleeping. I remain still, watching his chest rise and fall as he breathes. The man’s a liar because he sleeps just fine, and he’s beautiful while he’s at it. He looks so peaceful, almost angelic, with the soft morning light falling over him creating a golden glimmer in his hair. No crease in his brow, no tight jaw, his full lips slightly parted. 

God, this man is even more striking asleep.

Blinking, his eyelids flutter open, his pupils dilating and focusing as he wakes. We lie maybe a foot apart, so close the fine hairs on his cheeks are visible, the glittering of scruff on his jaw longer than he usually allows it. A slow, easy smile spreads out over his full lips. It’s an uninhibited smile, a carefree, happy, in-the-moment smile before reality slams back. Before he is awake enough to remember the threats and danger, and so genuine that I feel a gasp slip out of me. 

Hi, I whisper. 

His brows knit, and it all crashes back into him as he fully wakes up. A tinge of guilt pricks my heart, since it’s my fault that beautiful smile has vanished. 

Don’t move, he says and shoots out of bed. 

I don’t plan on it, I call after him as he leaves the room. He returns with a glass of water and the prescription pain medication Kye gave him. Part of me wonders if that’s a good idea—Liam and a bottle of medication. But then, he did say Madam helped him get sober. I’m sure he can hold a bottle of pain pills and not go insane. He isn’t my mother. 

Take it, Jess. Focusing back on the room, I see him holding the items for me. Liam slips the pill in my mouth and then cradles the back of my head so I can drink. I tilt my head enough to sip the cool water and swallow. There, he says and sits next to me. 

Give the medication about thirty minutes, he says, pulling the blankets back. Let me see your legs.

Gripping the blankets, I say, I’m okay.

He places a hand on my shoulder, his brows furrowing. Let me see, Jess.

I bite my lip. From the soreness radiating through my legs, I can tell whatever is happening on my thighs probably doesn’t look good. Liam has dealt with enough. The last thing he needs to see is the results of Chuck’s violence.

Now, Jess, he says.

Wincing, I flip over, trying not to stretch my tender skin as I move. Liam lifts the blankets as I flip over, and his silence confirms what the dull throb already told me. I’m covered in bruises and cuts. His sign comes out with a hint of a growl. 

I’m going to ruin him, he states, so coldly I remember what he said less than a week ago about ruining the life of whoever had hit me. And that was just a bruise. I can imagine what my thighs and ass look like. Judging from the pain the initial strikes caused, I would put my money on pretty gnarly. Seems Chuck has no problem hurting women. Fucking liar he is. Funny how, since I entered a BDSM club, the pain I have experienced has all been from outside sources. Since I have met Liam, it’s been nothing but pleasure and comfort from him. 

Rosita will be here later with supplies. Liam scoots off the bed.

Rosita?

Liam throws the words over his shoulder as he leaves the room. Yes. I trust her.

I settle back into the pillows, waiting for the pain to ease before moving, trying to remind myself that I have a plan to retake my life.

The red one.

I spin around, eyeing the dress in the long mirror. My head spins from the movement, the pill Liam gave me this morning making me woozy, but it is helping to dull the pain in my thighs and keeping the nightmare of reality and my dark thoughts at bay.

After washing my hair in the sink and sponging myself clean, too scared to shower, Liam fed me breakfast, then placed me in his SUV. We then drove a few islands over to go shopping.

Someone, I think it was Kye, had thrown a few t-shirts and leggings into a bag for me, but Liam said I needed something more comfortable immediately. Since I couldn’t exactly wear just Liam’s t-shirt into the store, and the leggings were the worst idea ever, Liam ran into a small shop along the way and grabbed a touristy sundress. I threw it over me in the car and we set out. 

We stand now in the third shop of the day. A small boutique with bathing suits, beach attire, and plenty of pretty floral dresses. I glance back at the mirror. This little dress is yellow, but I’m not sure I like it. Or the price tag.

I swish the hem of the dress around my legs, twisting side to side, inspecting myself. The red one is nice, but I like the tropical cerulean blue one better.

I hear him laugh behind me. Cerulean. Like your eyes.

His words spark a little fire in my chest. If someone were to ask me about my eye color, I’d say blue. My eyes are blue. They aren’t ocean blue, and they sure aren’t cerulean blue. Liam lightly touches the small of my back, the heat of his hand burning through me. I turn to face him, wiggling closer so my chest squishes against him, loving how his warmth soaks under my skin. 

Jess, you have the most stunning eyes I have ever seen, he whispers, running his hand in small circles on my back. His breath falls over my face, and I’m washed in his scent. I all but melt into him. They are like a clear April sky. Brilliant. Bright. Full of life and promise. 

I remember the first day I met him. Looking at his eyes and thinking how the brown wasn’t brown at all but bronze, glinting with intelligence. Liam doesn’t think my eyes are just blue. He thinks they are more, that I’m more. I’m cerulean. 

Liam presses a light kiss to the corner of my mouth, sending heat through my middle. I’m ravenous.

Placing my hands on his chest, I tilt my head to the side and smirk. Me too, but in the dressing room?

He laughs loudly, making the dressing room attendant look up from her little stand. As fun as that would be, I was referring to actual food.

My stomach rumbles even though we ate only a few hours ago.

Liam grabs my hand, eyeing my belly. Let’s go eat.

Liam pays for my goodies—a few dresses, a pair of sandals, and a little magnet he found me examining, and we leave the store. Liam is raving about some Cuban restaurant he loves nearby, but I’m scarcely listening. My emotions shift from bubbly excitement to being consumed by fear to feeling weird about him buying me more clothes. We aren’t in the club. We left all that behind. 

He is treating you, Jess. Let him. 

Liam shoves the bags in the back of his SUV next to the other purchases from stores we visited earlier. Although it is strange having someone pamper me, I have found that I rather enjoy it.

Liam seems to enjoy spending money on me, so this whole shopping excursion he is using to distract me from the fact the mob just maimed me yesterday has worked out pretty well for both of us. Then again, it could all just stem from guilt. Guilt that Madam put me in the club to begin with.

Referencing back to my mom’s strung-out-psychology-one-oh-one, she once told me men only spend money on women when they feel guilty or have something to hide. Guilt, she told me, drives our actions more than love, more than hate, more than any other emotion. 

She would know. 

The problem with this logic is that Liam has nothing to feel guilty about. I’m the deceiving monster in this situation. 

What are you thinking about, Jess? Liam asks. He sips his coffee and leans back in the bamboo chair.

I pick at my salad, keeping my focus on the plate.

Stop clamming up, Jess.

Why are you doing all this? I motion to the restaurant, but he knows what I mean. All of this includes staying quiet about a murder. 

For selfish reasons, he says. I told you before, I like you.

I snort a bit as I laugh. "Well then, I need to work on making you really like me. Imagine the stuff I’d get then."

He just gives me a small smile, and I flush. This smile is not his huge, posing for-a-camera grin. It’s barely noticeable, but in one week, I have seen it enough to recognize when he’s amused. The corner of his mouth, just the right side, quirks up, and he looks momentarily like he’s about to tell a mind-blowing secret. But he never does. It sits at the corner of his mouth and I can’t help but