"If you just give me a chance. . ."
“As I said earlier. . .”
“It wasn’t as your men are saying. . .”
Stopping outside the door the voices are coming from, I inhale a deep, calming breath.
“You can do this, Blaire,” I chant to myself.
Clutching the handle for dear life, I throw open the heavily weighted door. Just as it gives out a creak, pleading pummels my eardrums.
“Please. No. I’m begging you. I have children. Small, precious little children.”
Chapter 2
With my heart clutched in fear, I lift my eyes from my feet. Men in midnight-colored suits are huddled around something in the middle of a poorly lit room. Just like the men in the hallway, they are tall, wide, and set my pulse racing.
I take a stumbling step backward when black smoke loiters through my nose, burning my eyes, and suffocating my throat. I try to hold in my cough the thick waft of smoke instigates. I try to smother it until I'm in the safety of the hall. But no matter how much I plead with my brain that now is not the time to kick up a protest about the disgusting habit of smoking, my efforts are fruitless.
The instant my measly cough splatters through my snapped-shut lips, the large group of men shift their attention to me. I take a retreating step, alarmed by their fuming glares. Fear-induced chemicals pump through my body when my massively dilated eyes zoom in on the men's original devotion.
A balding man in his mid-fifties is bound to a rickety wooden chair in the middle of the room. His right brow has a nasty gash across it that's trickling blood down his pale cheek; his eyes are wide and terrorized, and he has a wet patch that goes from the crotch of his dark blue trousers all the way down his leg until it joins a puddle sloshed around his shoeless and bloodied feet.
My pupils widen as my heart drops from my ribcage. I beg for my feet to move, but just like the man bound to the chair, I'm frozen in fear.
The only remaining functioning part of my body—my eyes— swing to the side when a deep, rumbling voice vibrates through my chest. “Kitten?”
The beat of my heart enters dangerous territory when my wide gaze is met with a dark, mysterious stranger sitting in the corner of the room. He has thick black hair, bleak sable eyes, and a few days of stubble hiding his well-carved chin.
If I weren't currently immersed in a scary rendition ofThe Godfather, I would have said he was handsome—perhaps even deliriously gorgeous—but since I'm on the verge of peeing my pants like the man bound to the chair, I harness my perving gaze for a more suitable occasion.
My pulse quickens when the dark-haired stranger stands from his chair. His aura demands my attention, and his stature alludes to his power. Even in a room filled with scary men, there's no doubt who the alpha of the room is. It’s him.
Unlike the other half a dozen men gawking at me in shocked anger, this handsome stranger looks at me with a sense of familiarity, and if I’m not mistaken…ownership?
Blinking to break the trance he has trapped me in, I squeak out, “Wrong room,” before spinning on my heels and charging for the door.
Thick, accented voices yell for me to stop, but I barely hear a word over the mad beat of my heart. I race down the corridor remarkably quick for someone on the verge of wetting their pants.
Unfortunately, my fast-moving legs are not quite quick enough.
A window-shattering squeal tears from my throat when a broad arm wraps around my torso. His powerful hold has my feet lifting from the ground and my heart smashing against my ribs. I thrash and kick my arms and legs out wildly, fighting with all my might. I claw my nails into the suit-covered arm and bite at the hand moving to cover my shrieking mouth as I struggle to keep haunted memories buried.
My vicious attack only diminishes when my name comes barreling out of a deep baritone voice, the same voice that called me kitten mere seconds ago.
"Calm down, Blaire, or you’ll gain unwanted attention.” He drags me into an unlocked room on our right. “You’re safe. No one will ever hurt you.”
Air hisses through the small cracks of the hand covering my mouth as I gulp in deep breaths, battling to fill my heaving lungs with oxygen. With the fear of hyperventilating, I decrease the volume of my wails and shift my focus on breathing. The last thing I want to do is pass out in a house full of scary looking men and non-English-speaking females.
Realizing I'm no longer fighting, the stranger removes his hand from my mouth, dropping it to the curve of my neck. Every hair on my body bristles when he rubs his thumb over the dip in my collarbone. Now instead of suffering the crippling fear of panic, I’m overcome by the frantic rush of desire. Insanely, my nipples bud and my lips part, my body choosing its own response to the closeness of the spicy-scented stranger.
“That’s it, Kitten. Nice big breaths.”
The carnal rasp of his tone tightens the coil of my womb even more. His voice is sophisticated and smooth, the type that could sell ice to Eskimos. It switches the mad beat of my heart from a frightened gallop to a leisured trot.
After a few more cavernous breaths, my regular breathing pattern returns. When the unnamed stranger places me onto my feet, I run my sweaty hands down the front of my floral skirt before swiveling around to face him. My heart rate skyrockets again. He's even more alluring up close. Defined nose, dark, edgy eyes, and cheekbones any sculptor would love to carve. He's a true masterpiece.
“How do you know my name?” I peer into his eyes, unable to look away for the fear of missing something magical.
