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“Your father had a favorite dungeon?”
“More than one, actually.”
“Wow.”
She didn’t know why she felt mollified by his assurance that he wouldn’t hurt her. Especially not considering he had just said his father had a favorite dungeon. But he made it clear that he and his brother weren’t like their father. So if she could believe that...
It was insane that she believed him. But the thing was, he hadn’t lied to her. Not once. Her father had tricked her. Had made her believe that the life she was living was different than the one she actually had. That their relationship was different.
But this man had never lied.
Her world felt turned upside down, and suddenly, her kidnapper seemed about the most trustworthy person.
A sad state of affairs.
The car halted on the tarmac, and there was a plane. It didn’t look like a private charter, because it was the size of a commercial jet.
But the royal crest on the side seemed to indicate that it was in fact his jet.
Or his brother’s. However that worked.
“This way,” he said, getting out of the limousine and holding the door for her.
The driver had gotten out and stood there feebly. “I think he was going to hold the door,” she said, looking up at Javier.
Her heart scampered up into her throat as her eyes connected with his again. Looking at him was like getting hit with a force. She had never experienced anything quite like it.
It wasn’t simply that he was beautiful—though he was—it was the hardness to him. The overwhelming feeling of rampant masculinity coming at her like a testosterone-fueled train.
Admittedly, she was not exposed to men like him all that often. Not in her line of work.
She actually hadn’t been certain that men like him existed.
Well, there was her brother-in-law, Dante, who was a hard man indeed, but still, he looked approachable in comparison to Javier.
This man was like a throwback from a medieval era. The circumstances of her meeting him—the ones where she was being sold into marriage pit debt—certainly contributing to this feeling.
“Too bad for him,” Javier shot back. “I don’t wait.”
And that, she concluded, was her signal to get out of the limo. She decided to take her time. Because he might not wait, but she did not take orders.
And if she was going to retain any kind of power in the situation, she had better do it now. Hoard little pieces of it as best she could, because he wasn’t going to give her any. No. So she would not surrender what she might be able to claim.
“Good to know.” She made small micromovements, sliding across the seat and then flexing her ankles before her feet made contact with the ground. Then she scooted forward a bit more, put her hands on her knees.
And he stood there, not saying anything.
She stood, and as she did so, he bent down, and her face came within scant inches of his. She forgot to breathe. But she did not forget to move. She pitched herself forward and nearly came into contact with the asphalt. He wrapped his arm around her waist and pulled her back against him. Her shoulder blades came into stark contact with his hard chest. It all lasted only a moment, because he released her and allowed her to stand on her own feet as soon as she was steady. But she could still feel him. The impression of him. Burning her.
“If I walk on my own two feet to the airplane, it is not a kidnapping, is it?”
“I’m certainly not married to the narrative of it being a kidnapping. Call it whatever you need to.”
She straightened her shoulders and began to walk toward the plane.
Toward her doom.
Violet didn’t know which it was.
