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Deep blue eyes stare at me with horror, the tears glistening in them like pools of crystal water. Like a startled fawn, this woman looks at me with fear and her lower lip trembles as she regards me with an expression that makes me feel like the biggest bastard in the world.
Her long blonde hair is tied back in a ponytail and several strands have escaped their binding and trail across a face that is as white as snow. She looks utterly terrified and as those long lashes bat in my direction, I try so hard to remain focused.
“Charlotte Richmond.” Perhaps I should have checked we had the right girl before we left and relax when she nods.
With a deep sigh of relief, I say roughly, “Just do as I say at all times, and this will be over quickly.”
She looks to the floor, and I wonder what she’s thinking and leaning forward, I grasp her face in my hand and lift it to stare into my eyes. She flinches at the contact and it’s like holding a frightened animal in my hand and I feel like the biggest bastard as I say roughly, “You are my prisoner and must do everything I say otherwise you’ll regret it. Do I make myself clear?”
She nods and as I hold her face in my hand, I stare at a beauty I wasn’t expecting. In fact, I don’t think I’ve ever met a woman quite like Charlotte Richmond before. The girls I’m used to have more sass than sense and would probably be screaming and complaining by now. Not her, though. She just regards me with a startled look in her eye that makes it even worse and so I drop my hand and say abruptly, “Get some sleep. This will be a long flight.”
While I lean back in my seat, I wait for her reaction, and she seems almost shy as she whispers, “Where are we going?”
“Russia.”
Her eyes widen and the shock in them makes me smile as I shrug. “It’s the perfect place to lose a life.”
“My life?” She appears more intrigued than afraid, and I nod.
“I need to keep you out of the spotlight. Somewhere nobody would think to look for you, and I know the perfect place.”
“But why?”
She’s curious and I owe her that at least, so I sigh and lean back in my seat.
“Your father owes us money and his credit limit has expired. He missed his last few payments, and we need to persuade him to pay up.”
“My father owes you money.”
She appears shocked about that, causing me to lean forward and stare into her bewitching eyes and snarl, “What’s the matter princess? Are you worried your inheritance is under threat?”
For the first time, I see a little fire in her expression as she says angrily, “I couldn’t give a fuck about my inheritance.”
I love getting at least one reaction from her and can’t help saying, “Your type is all the same.”
I sneer and curl my lip and the flush to her cheeks has more to do with anger than anything as she hisses, “You know nothing about me. How dare you judge before knowing the facts, which as it happens, you never will, so do what you must, get your blood money and do it fast because the sooner I’m away from such a judgemental arsehole the better.”
“You mean asshole.” I smirk and love watching her eyes blaze with fury as she snaps, “Arsehole. I’m English, remember.”
She pointedly turns away and I watch her silently fuming in her seat as she sits straight backed and defiant, not even trying to free her wrists.
Shrugging, I stand, needing to take a piss and, without any more words, leave her to stew and head to the rear of the aircraft.
CHAPTER3
CHARLOTTE
How has this happened? One minute I’m daydreaming my day away and the next I’m in the middle of a Netflix movie. I should be frightened, tearful and pleading for my life, but I’m shocked to discover I’m merely intrigued. Things like this don’t happen to girls like me. Men like him don’t happen to girls like me and when the hood was ripped from my head, my first reaction was stunned surprise.
Throughout the car journey, I imagined a very different captor. His voice alone alerted me to a strange accent. American laced with one I couldn’t place. I never imagined he would be so young. He can’t be far from my own age and, quite frankly, he took my breath away.
Close cropped hair and rough stubble grazing his chin. Dressed in combats and a khaki t-shirt that made him look more like a soldier than anything else. The intricate ink on his forearms appeared to trail underneath his t-shirt and the muscles that it clings to made me experience something I never have before. Interest.
The person facing me wasn’t a boy, he was all man who intrigued me more than anything and made me forget to be afraid. For some reason, I was caught up in the drama and even being tied and handcuffed to a chair doesn’t scare me as much as it should. Perhaps I’m delusional and don’t understand how serious this situation is.
Remove me from life he said, well, I couldn’t have asked for more if I had my own wish. I want removing from my life. It bores me to tears anyway and my heart hasn’t stopped thumping since the moment I got the text.
The trouble is this guy rubs me up the wrong way. He’s so dismissive, curt, and crude and I can tell he doesn’t think much of me from that heiress comment. The fact he’s right has nothing to do with it and I wonder about him. Looking back on the helicopters and the men in black suits, it tells me I was right when the word mafia entered my head. He is one of them. It’s obvious and yet I’m still not scared. I’ve been kidnapped for ransom and now I know they need me alive for that I can rest a little easier. I must be having a dark dream because why am I not scared shitless? What’s happening to me?
