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She stepped away from him abruptly. He was lifting her skirt too high—there were no more words there and she was at risk of showing them her vagina again. Okay, at least this time it was clothed, unlike the last time.
New tactic since running proved impossible.
Be brave. Be brave. Be brave. Be fucking brave.
She crossed her arms over her chest, which wasn’t very comfortable because she was sure one of those things with the stainless steel prickly wheels, a Wartenberg Wheel, was poking her left boob.
If Katrina or Josh could see her now… The thought slipped into her head to mock her, but she quickly flung it aside. She didn’t have time to muse about that right now.
She stood her ground. The silence was agonizing and the need to say something ate her alive.
Their perusal threw her off her game. She couldn’t remain quiet anymore. It just wasn’t in her nature.
“Is your silence supposed to scare me into backing down?”
“Yes,” Leonid said as if that was their whole approach from the start.
“Well, it’s not working. You know I have so much more where that came from. You guys have no idea. You also have no idea the scope of my imagination and I have the resources to make it happen. So ask yourself: Do you want to continue this or save yourself a lot of bother and aggravation and leave Cupid’s Toys alone?” She was so proud of herself. She didn’t stutter. Or bungle her words. Or fall over her own two boots. Okay fine, she was wearing an outfit decked with sex toys but it was still setting the scene.
“That’s not going to happen. And we’re not going to repeat ourselves. This is your last chance to sell and back off,” Roman said.
“Or what? I’m a young very reckless heiress with only time on my hands, I’m not going anywhere.”
“Is that a fact?” Leonid asked, stroking his jaw.
“It is very much a fact,” she said but something was changing. Both the brothers looked at Damien who nodded so surreptitiously she could have imagined it. Her gaze vacillated from Leonid to Roman to Damien then back to Roman who started to stroll toward her. Hands in the pockets of his suit trousers, she couldn’t help but think of him as a beautiful beast. He closed the distance between them. Too close. Way too close.
Oh God, help her.
“Wait. What… what are you doing?”
“Delivering a message.” Roman smiled at her and she refused to melt but it was too late. She melted. Did he have to be so delicious? Did any of them have to be the way they were?
He stood too near to her. His scent was a heady combination of man, musk, and power.
His fingers roamed over her cheek, down the side of her neck as he glanced down her body, inspecting her attire.
Goosebumps rose from her skin. She swallowed. Hard. She couldn’t think when they stepped into her personal space.
There was something wrong here. It was too… nice the way he was caressing her. His touch was so electrifying she immediately knew that he did this to other women as well. She felt so seduced by him. He was a playboy and her belly knotted with something she refused to name.
“This is your last chance to retreat, Ansley,” Roman said softly. The sound of her name coming from his lips sucked her in and made her lose her thought process a little. She was only paying half attention but meekly shook her head. She wasn’t going to do that thing he wanted her to do. Oh yes, retreat. She wasn’t going to retreat.
And before she knew it she was flipped over.
Chapter Eight
Ansley conceded. Roman had rendered her stupefied.
There were some crazy geometrical moves that Roman administered and if she weren’t stunned she would have remembered them all. But nothing could have prepared her for what he did.
As if she were a puppet, a lifeless doll, he flipped her around, this way and that way, then scooped her up, and all she found herself doing was trying to hold onto her underwear while he expertly removed it without taking off her skirt and top.
Out of breath, and entirely perplexed that he had pulled it off in such a short space of time, Ansley now found herself bundled into one of her antique chair pieces. Her bra, the one she wore under her top which was decorated with sex toys, she shouldn’t forget, was now used to bind her ankles to the legs of the chair, courtesy of Roman.
That should have been the most horrifying thing to happen to her. But it wasn’t.
Roman had also divested her of her panties and used that to bind her wrists together behind her back.Her wet panties. Her underwear had been soaked through, she felt it when he dragged it down her thighs and over her calves. She felt their wetness even now that it was used as a restraint.
