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“You’ll answer every question,” he warned, sliding the blindfold from her eyes, “and you won’t leave out a single detail.”
As he unbuckled the gag, she blinked, trying to make out her surroundings. Two lamps and a low burning fire offered subdued light. She was in an easy chair next to a matching couch. Bookcases lined a wall. An oval marble coffee table sat in front of her holding a tray with bottled water, two mugs, a small jug of cream, a bowl of sugar, and a thermos.
She spotted the bed.
A king four-poster similar to the one at the lodge, but the bedroom was twice the size.
“Drink,” he instructed, handing her a bottle with the cap already off, “then you’ll have some coffee.”
“Thank you, Master,” she replied, accepting it gratefully and taking several gulps.
“You’ve lost the right to call me Master,” he said gruffly. “It’s Sir from now on.”
A wave of disappointment unexpectedly sweeping through her, she dared to raise her eyes.
He was glaring down at her.
Heat burned the back of her throat.
“I’m so terribly sorry,” she bleated, her brow crinkling as she met his gaze. “I mean it, I really am. If I could do it all over again I would. I swear.”
“No one wishes you could turn back the clock more than me,” he scolded. “You think you’re so smart, but what you did was unbelievably reckless.”
“I know,” she mumbled, a lone tear escaping and sliding down her cheek.
“Actually, you don’t,” he continued. “You’ve created a dangerous mess. You and your friend Max Steadman, but we’ll get to him later. You said you started following me to get a decent photograph. Is that true?”
“Yes, Sir.”
“What changed? Why did you take an interest in the Zeppelin brothers?”
“It started in a hotel lobby. I parked my bike and went inside, but you were held up by the car valet. There were two guys standing around speaking in Russian. At least, that’s what it sounded like. I couldn’t stop watching them. They were wearing expensive suits, but they looked so menacing. One had a scar down the side of his face. I managed to take a picture, but I only did it because they were so—I can’t think of the word—intriguing, I suppose. Then you came in with another guy, and it turned out they were waiting for you.”
“Keep going.”
“I emailed the picture to Max, and a couple of days later he called and told me to stay away from you. He said he’d done some research and the two men were Oleg and Ivan Zeppelin, and they were gangsters from Eastern Europe. They were bad news, like, really bad news. I don’t know how he found out, but he has all kinds of contacts and access to databases.”
“Why didn’t you listen to him?”
“I should have,” she said, lowering her eyes and letting out a heavy sigh.
She expected another question, but to her surprise, Marco sat on the couch, poured the coffee, and placed a mug in front of her.
“Thank you, Sir,” she murmured, adding cream and sugar, then immediately downed a couple of swallows. “I was desperate for this.”
“I know,” he replied, pouring a mug for himself. “I’ll ask you again, why didn’t you listen to him.”
She paused.
“Don’t keep me waiting, Steph.”
“I’m trying to find the words.”
“It’s not going to matter how you phrase it, the truth is the truth.”
“Okay,” she said quietly, feeling the hot, embarrassed flush burn across her face. “I didn’t care about them, I only cared about you. I wanted to know everything about you.”
“Because?”
