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A belated sense of self-preservation rockets through me, and I jerk back, but the man reaches out and shackles my wrist with his hand. He punches the elevator button and I realize he has his own keycard. The doors whoosh open and before I can scream he hauls me inside, then claps a hand over my mouth, pulling me close.
“Raina Darcy,” he says again, whispering into my ear. “It looks like my hot-blooded brother found a better way to spend his night than he let on. Did you fuck him as part of your little scheme to embarrass our family?”
I stare up at him, wide-eyed, and shake my head as violently as I can—which isn’t very violently, given his vice-like grip on my face.
But the man’s eyes only narrow at my response. “Don’t lie to me, you filthy whore. You’ll learn fast enough what I do to anyone who tries. Aleksei may get turned around by a pretty face, but I assure you—I don’t.”
And the elevator jolts abruptly to a stop, nowhere near Alek’s floor.
The man barely waits for the doors to part before he hauls me roughly forward, down a short hallway to a door he slams open. The room beyond is not unlike the penthouse, but smaller, less grand—and completely empty of any furniture save a single chair in the middle of the room. An interrogation room, I think immediately. But the room isn’t what has me in a panic, it’s the plastic sheet covering the polished hardwood floor beneath the chair.
All my fear comes rushing back to the fore, and I twist and writhe, desperate to break free. I scream against the man’s gloved hand until he strikes me with his other hand, hard.
Everything goes black.
