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“That’s true,” he admitted. “But I liked what I saw.”
My mouth dropped open.
“I’m sorry, you liked what you saw?” I repeatedly dumbly. “All I did was sell him a bear claw, if I remember correctly,” I said. “What could you possibly have seen?”
His smile grew a little darker then.
“We’ve been watching,” he said. “Major Corporation has been watching and you’re the woman for our plan.”
I gasped at him, my mouth opening and closing with shock.
“I don’t care who you say you are, but right now, I’m trapped and I have to get back,” I said. “This isn’t the time for games, you can’t just go about kidnapping women and saying ‘We’ve decided to keep you.’ This is the twenty first century, women have rights. You can’t just lock me up, even in this fancy office,” I said, gesturing at our surroundings. “Besides I don’t know you,” I added forcefully.
But Mason was calm and strode over to his desk, coming back with something in his hand. He got closer and I shrank away, cowering against the door, but the big man was oddly gentle as he came close, like a trainer working with a nervous filly.
“Like I said,” that deep voice rumbled, “We’re keeping you.”
And before I knew it, handcuffs snapped on.
“What the?” I gasped, staring down more in surprise than anything else. The metal was cool against my wrists, glinting under the light. “What the?”
“Some cuffs will do the trick,” the big man replied smoothly, leading me by a chain to the sofa. “I find that women like it, if it’s done right,” he added with a gleam to his eye.
I gasped again, digging my heels in, but it did no good. The big man was twice my size, shoulders broad as a tank, and double my weight too.
“Come on,” he said, leading me over to the couch. “Take a seat and we’ll talk about options.”
I sputtered, plopping onto the leather because frankly, there was no other choice.
“This is ludicrous,” I began slowly. “I’m just a barista and art student. I don’t get what’s going on. You saved me from the guy that morning, but now I’m locked up here with handcuffs? What is this, some kind of sick joke where you kidnap women? It’s not funny.”
The dark-haired man shot me an amused glance.
“Exactly,” he said, “It’s not funny at all because this is no joke. But we’d like to get to know you better. We’ve been watching you Katie, and you seem to fit the profile.”
I goggled at him.
“Watching me? When? How? Profile for what? What the hell is going on?”
Mason shrugged again, the perfectly cut suit highlighting his athletic frame.
“We have needs at Major Corp. Some very specific needs and we need someone who fits.”
My mouth snapped shut. This didn’t sound good.
“What needs?” I whispered. “I’m sure there’s nothing I can do for you. I’m a penniless art student, making ends meet by working as a barista. There’s nothing you could want from me. Nothing you could need. We’ve never even met,” I concluded helplessly.
Mason was silent for a moment, just taking me in, the flushed cheeks, the hotly heaving bosom. Damn, the man was so gorgeous that I immediately scolded myself for even having the thought. So what if he had a muscled bod beneath that suit? Thighs as thick as tree trunks? So what if those blue eyes were penetrating, seeing straight to my heart? He was still my kidnapper for crying out loud, the physical shouldn’t matter even if he made me tingle deep in my puss. Putting on my most serious face, I tried again.
“You don’t know me. There’s nothing I could possibly do for you.”
Mason was silent, ignoring my question.
“Like I said, we’ve been watching,” he replied smoothly. “I understand you’re a student?”
I nodded.
“Yes, at the Union Art League. But why does that make a difference?”
He grinned wolfishly.
“Who do you think owns the Union Art League?”
I tilted my head, bewildered.
“Some company, I guess. I don’t know, never thought about it. Why, what does that have to do with me?”
Mr. Major grinned again.
“It’s owned by a corporation, Major Arts, which in turn is owned by Major Enterprises,” he said smoothly. “So in fact, we own the Union Art League.”
That made me stop. Major Enterprises is known for being a cutthroat business, as scary as it gets. Even me, Katie Jones, knows about them because the company’s name was on dozens of buildings around the city, from museums to public spaces. But the Union Art League was a school. What did the two have to do with one another? Why in the world would Major invest in an art school? And reading my mind, Mason shrugged.
“We have investments in a lot of things, but right now, all you have to know is that Major owns Union.”
