I was tumbling down a hill filled with thorns and rocks. Every wrong word and look pierced my skin, leaving bruises and cuts. But this was the first instance when it didn’t hurt. The first time in the last hour when I wasn’t kicking, screaming,burning.
He was just a regular man. In that moment—having been caught staring—he wasn’t an asshole, a kidnapper, or a criminal. He was just there, like the guys at the club, checking me out. But unlike the guys at the club, he was awfully tall and broad.
I focused on his shoes instead. Nice shoes. Nice, expensive shoes.
"I did.” His deep voice brought me back to the clusterfuck at hand. “Your dear daddy should be ashamed you’re dressed like this."
His words were like hot lava on my skin. What a judgmental piece of shit!
"Why’re you so obsessed with my dad?” I stepped closer to the bed, wondering if it was as soft as it looked. “You had to kidnap his only daughter to get his attention?” I turned back to the two mastermind criminals. “He's going to cut your balls off, fry them, and then feed them to you."
That was all true—my dad's retribution would know no bounds. Wow, did they miscalculate. My father was going toabso-fucking-lutelylose his damn mind—I was his only child,and he was a controlling parent. No, that was putting it mildly. He was apsychotic,controlling parent.
Just as that thought died down, another petrifying one floated to the top of my mind. Would my father be enraged only at them? If I ever made it out of here alive, I'd be on the receiving end of his wrath too—I was out without his knowledge and permission.
As if on cue, they rolled their eyes, dismissing my threats. Without another word, the blond husband turned around and disappeared behind the door, leaving me alone with my personal tormentor.
"You have a filthy mouth on you, don't you…Preziosa?"
His voice was unexpectedly louder and deeper, and he strolled closer, his arms folded on his chest.
All my courage vanished without a trace now that we were alone. With the blondie, even if I didn’t know him, I felt safer. He looked like a dad, like some of the law school guys I had class with—regular and acceptable.
Not this motherfucker, though.
That feeling of drowning was somewhere close by, and while he inched closer, I stepped back, plopping onto the bed with a bounce.
Fully in control, he crouched down in front of me again, dangerously close to my naked legs.
"I'm surprised you talk so much.” All his attention fell on my thighs once more—like he wasfreeto look. I pulled down my dress instinctively. “But I guess…like father, like daughter, huh? He can't keep his mouth shut either."
A foot away from me, I noticed the way his jaw ticked and how wide his shoulders were. There’d be no escaping this monster, no way to even push him over. He leaned in even closer, and my legs went numb.Dear God, no.
I squeezed my eyes shut, waiting for the inevitable—he was going to touch me, undress me,hurtme. Instead, his finger slid underneath my chin, surprisingly soft and warm.
My heartbeat hammered in my ears just as he tilted my head up, the scent of him hitting me all at once. "You still have my blood on you, you soul sucker."
I opened my eyes—slowly, enough to catch the glimmer in his, neither anger nor violence reflected in his wide, blown pupils. No. He was concerned.
"Don't..." I pleaded weakly, on the verge of tears again. “Please don’t touch me.”
Something sparked in his eyes, and he listened…immediately. His huge body straightened out, and I found myself craning my neck again, just to keep eye contact.
"Maybe get some rest. If you can.” He motioned toward the bed, but I sat there as still as a rock, unsure if the worst was yet to come. “Wash your filthy mouth. And you can tell us all about your dad's revenge plans tomorrow morning."
That couldn't have been it. My blood flowed through me a mile a minute, and nausea and fear crept up my neck because I knew—I knew—men were deceiving.
Half-paralyzed, I blinked at him, still expecting an attack, but he slowly headed toward the door. Easy. Simple. Right before stepping out of the room, he turned back, tracing his gaze over my legs one last time. “Sweet dreams.”
My skin was on fire. I sat there, staring at the closed door, my thoughts scrambled and jagged.
How long would they keep me here? Days? Weeks?Months?You can tell us all about your dad's revenge plans tomorrow morning.They were coming back tomorrow?
Silently, I kicked off my heels and wandered around the room before venturing back into the living area, making sure they were gone. They were—the front door was locked.
I looked around, reluctant to admit that the house was…cute. Was that meant to disorient me? Were they going to keep me in this nice place and then drag me to some warehouse and put needles under my fingernails?
The lighting was soft throughout, and the kitchen was fully stocked. Cups, plates, cutlery. I opened the fridge to see it filled with food. There was even ketchup and mustard in the door!
