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I slowly turned my gaze to the side, keeping my eyelids slitted and pretending to still be asleep. The scent of freshly brewed coffee surrounded me, and I breathed in deep. It reminded me of my mother in a way. She’d always loved coffee, much to my chagrin. I preferred a simple black tea with a little bit of sugar.
I surveyed the room slowly, soon realizing that I wasn’t alone.
My eyes popped wide open now, and I pushed my hands against the bed, scrambling backwards toward the headboard. I recognized him.
How the fuck did he get here?
It was the man from last night. The same one that I’d tripped down the stairs and ran away from.
“Good morning, Kasia. I trust you slept well,” the man said.
Was he here for revenge? It didn’t look like I’d hurt him or anything like that. His suit looked clean, almost like he hadn’t chased me after being in a massive gunfight last night in the middle of a filthy abandoned warehouse. There wasn’t a speck of dirt on him anywhere. Everything about him was perfect.
His dark brown eyes leveled with mine. In my silent panic, I noticed that there were flecks of green and yellow within them that sparkled with amusement and instead of making me feel more at ease, it simply made me nervous. His entire demeanor was relaxed, but there was an underlying menacing air to his presence that I couldn’t ignore.
I swallowed hard.
“How are you here? How did you find me?” I squeaked.
“I have my ways,” he replied evasively. He leaned against the counter along the wall. I hadn’t even noticed the coffeemaker before I’d collapsed into bed last night, but it was by far the fanciest one I’d ever seen, like something a barista might use in a café.
He apparently knew how to use it.
Feeling self-conscious, I pulled the covers up and over my bare legs. In nothing more than a sleepshirt and a pair of panties, I felt embarrassingly exposed.
I watched him warily as he poured himself a cup. He took a sip, keeping his gaze on me the entire time. A tendril of uneasiness spiraled through me, but it paled in comparison to the heated pulse throbbing through my veins.
“What do you want?” I asked, angry about being woken up like this.
His constant stare studied me closely, making me feel even more apprehensive. I edged myself to the side of the bed, assessing the way out in case I needed to run. There would be no time for me to put on shoes or even normal clothes. I’d just need to go.
Honestly, the chances of me getting away in a space like this were most certainly slim. That didn’t mean I wouldn’t take the opportunity if it presented itself, though.
“I’m enjoying a cup of coffee. Would you like one too?”
I shook my head. Why was he here?
He didn’t appear angry. In fact, he seemed to be in good spirits, and I couldn’t figure out if that was a bad sign for me or not. Would he kill me? Would he hurt me? Did he think that he could buy me? He wasn’t answering my questions and I didn’t know what to do next.
With increasing trepidation, I slid my legs from underneath the covers and pressed my feet to the floor. I stood up and leisurely moved a bit closer to the door. Warily, I took a seat on the couch, feeling better now that I had increased my chances of escape just by changing my position in the room, but that only lasted for a moment.
Leisurely, he walked over to me and joined me. As if he could read my thoughts, he placed himself between me and the door, cutting off my only avenue of escape.
My skin prickled at his nearness, reacting with near electric intensity. Beneath my sleepshirt, my nipples hardened, and I prayed that he couldn’t see them through the fabric.
“When I told you I would protect you last night, that I would keep you safe, I meant every word, Kasia Poplawski,” he murmured.
I started. I hadn’t told him my full name. He’d found that out all on his own somehow.
“So, you know who I am,” I whispered, trying to keep my voice steady so that I could cover up how nervous that knowledge made me. My gaze flicked to the door and back to him, trying to figure out what my chances of escape were now.
I was fucked.
“I know everything there is to know about you, Kasia. I know who your father is, who he paid off to have your mother killed. I know about the marriage he arranged for you and what he did to you when you refused him. I know all of it,” he continued.
The longer I sat there, the more nervous I became.
He’d said his name was James Monroe. I wasn’t familiar with it, but I knew how to read a person. I’d been doing it all my life. There was no doubt in my mind that he was rich. Men like that gave off an air of expectation, that they could buy anything and anyone no matter the cost.
