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No other man has ever touched me in any way. I’ve never been with anyone, and the fear that has a grip on my heart threatens to still the beating muscle.
Would I die here?
“I’d like to sit and talk to you,” he tells me before tangling his fingers with mine and tugging me deeper into the room toward a fireplace that roars as we near it. The heat makes me shiver. Even though I welcome it, the reason I’m here is much more sordid than I could ever flesh out in my mind.
The man gestures to the lush, leather armchair, and I’m thankful he didn’t make me sit on the sofa and nudge himself beside me. I’m about to settle onto the cushions when he grips my hips and sits down, pulling me onto his lap.
I can’t hide the cringe, and he notices it immediately. The corner of his mouth tilts upward, his amusement has my stomach tightening with anxiety at what he’s expecting of me.
“Like I said, I won’t hurt you.” He looks genuine, as if the thought of making me cry doesn’t appeal to him, but that doesn’t explain why he’s in a place like this. Surely him being here would guarantee he’s one of those monsters that girls are warned against.
And as much as I want to fight and push away from him, his grip on me is steel-strong. I have no way to battle. His one arm curls across my waist, his hand splayed on my stomach. The warmth of his touch not heating me at all; instead, it chills me to the bone.
“Tell me your name,” he requests with a smile.
I want to look away from his steel eyes, but I force myself to focus. “My name is Autumn,” I tell him, attempting to keep the fear from trickling into the words.
“What a pretty name for a pretty girl,” he coos, lifting his free hand to once again run his knuckles over my cheek. Goosebumps dot every inch of me at the touch. “You say thank you when I compliment you.” There’s a harsh warning in his tone.
“Thank you.”
“Good. Now tell me what you’re studying, or what you’d like to major in one day when you finish your studies.”
“How do—”
“That’s not what I asked you.” The deep growl that rumbles in his chest makes me shake in his lap. “If you answer me and you’re a good girl, I’ll take care of you.”
“I want to study music. I like singing, and it’s been something I would like to pursue. If I’m able to.” My voice comes out as a whisper laced with trepidation and fear. My heart is locked away, but I can feel the agony that grips it at the thought of never having a normal life. I was taught to have faith that things will always work out, but in my current situation, it seems too far-fetched.
“Would you sing something for me?” he asks, keeping his voice neutral, but desire glints in his eyes.
“I’ve never . . . I mean, I’m not used to singing in front of strangers.” The lie rolls off my tongue like sweet honey. If I play this right, perhaps he’ll let me go, and I can just venture to the bar again. Perhaps the bartender was right. I will need something stronger than water to get through this.
“I’d like to listen. We can go into one of the private lounges,” he suggests before lifting me from his lap. I don’t miss the bulge that’s so prominent in his slacks. I struggle to swallow the bile that rises in my chest and focus on the carpet instead.
Once again, he takes my hand and leads me through the room toward a wooden door. A few men we pass greet him, but their hungry gazes are on me.
Once he pushes open the door, he steps aside to allow me to enter first. The lounge is furnished with black leather sofas, two of them, along with a large wingback chair the color of red wine.
The carpet is patterned with ruby flowers, offering up a warm feel to the room. Windows on one side give off views of a darkening sky, and I wonder briefly what time it is.
“We’re alone now.” Three words send ice through my veins, causing a shiver to wrack my body. I turn to regard him. He’s seated in the wingback chair, his legs crossed, his elbows on the arms. His fingers are steepled together as he watches me.
Inhaling a deep breath, I attempt to calm my nerves and lift my chin. “What would you like me to sing?” I ask, thankful that my voice is steady, even though my hands are shaking and my knees feel as if they’re about to give out.
“Surprise me,” he tells me, tipping his head to the side as his gaze glides over me. Though I’m wearing clothes, his stare makes me feel naked, and I don’t like it at all.
