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“Get your filthy hands off of me.” She reaches back, clawing at my wrist. “I’m going to kill you for what you’ve done.”
Bringing my mouth to her ear, I click my teeth, and she immediately tenses up. “Ooo. Who knew you had such a dirty little mouth, topolina? Keep it up, and I’ll fuck it.”
She shudders, her shoulders shaking with each forced breath from her lungs. That silences her, though, and all the fight she had a second ago disappears. What’s left now is a woman torn between hating and undoubtedly wanting what I just promised.
I recognize the reactions running through her, the fake sense of self-deprecation. Something she’s put on to trick herself and those around her that she’s modest. Something she uses to convince herself that she doesn’t like what’s happening.
She certainly does. Why else has she moved the way she has the entire time I’ve followed her. This moment right here is the most effort she’s put into saving herself, and even then, her exertion is weak.
“You’d like that, wouldn’t you? Want me to fuck your throat like I did in that alley?” My dick stiffens at the memory of her on her knees in that piss-riddled alleyway with my cock in her mouth.
She inhales, and I notice the subtle tremor of her lip. “Why are you doing this? I thought you were different.”
“I told you—you’re mine. And you only have yourself to blame for not seeing me for who I am.”
“I’ll never stay with you,” she deadpans and locks her legs to strengthen her stance.
Releasing my hold on her neck, I quickly scoop her up over my shoulder. Siân yelps and punches at my back. With a firm slap to her ass and a hard squeeze, I carry her just as I promised, kicking and screaming to the blacked-out SUV waiting for us.
I toss her into the back seat, and if she didn’t try to escape from the other side, I’d be offended. The driver thinks fast and locks the doors just as she wraps her slender fingers around the handle.
“Let me go.”
“And here I was thinking you wanted to see your precious Cynthia again,” I add and slip in next to her.
That gets her attention, and her tussling stops. Siân stares at my profile, patiently waiting for me to direct the driver to take us home. With Tony in the seat next to him, he starts the engine and peels away from the runway.
3
SIN
I have to think of a new way to get out of here. I have to come up with something.
That's the thought that hammers at the inside of my skull with every beat of my heart as the sun sinks below the horizon. Every second that passes feels like a wasted second. I should be planning and coming up with ideas. There has to be something around here I can use to fight my way out, right?
Except there isn't. I've already checked. This room is a little better than a cell, with nothing but a narrow bed that looks even smaller than it really is, thanks to the size of the room around it. High ceilings, plenty of space, gleaming hardwood floors. I could do great things with a room like this and an unlimited budget.
Unfortunately, it's the opposite of what I need right now.
Once again, I try to turn the doorknob. What did I expect? For it to magically be unlocked this time? Like standing in front of an open refrigerator and waiting for something new to materialize. The tiny window in the attached bathroom is way too small for me to get through, even if I could break it open.
Besides, that would be a waste of time. All the windows in this room are sealed shut, but I can tell just by looking out that I'm far off the ground. Three floors, at least. I would have no way to get to the ground without breaking something. Probably my neck.
Right now, that doesn't seem like such a bad idea. With my luck, though, I would break everything but. Then I'd have no choice but to let Christian use me however he wants while telling himself he’s taking care of me. Because that's how his twisted mind works.
He didn't even bother telling me where he was going when he left. Only that he had things to take care of. I shudder to think about what that means now that I know what he's capable of. Is that his way of saying there's somebody to kill? Or kidnap? Maybe both. Like Cynthia. What did he do to Cynthia?
And how sick does a person need to be to pretend they're offering support and kindness when they're the one who caused the pain in the first place? No, he didn't admit his exact role in Cynthia’s disappearance, but he didn't have to. I could see it on his face. He didn't bother correcting me, either, did he? No, instead, he used my desire to see her against me.
