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I see him. He’s one of the most handsome men I’ve ever met—there’s no questioning that—the kind of man you can’t help but to take a second or third glance at. His dark hair is thick with wave. He wears it a touch longer than most men, curling around his ears. His short, dark beard is neatly trimmed, not so much as a speck of lint marring his crisp black shirt. He’s built tall, much taller than I am, with a strong, athletic frame.
His open gaze holds mine.
Along with his voice, it's his eyes that captivate me.
They’re a deep, dark brown, expressive, naked. Looking in them I get the sense this man lives his life speaking with brutal honesty. He looks right at me now, demanding I speak the truth to him.
“You want to tell me what you are doing here?” He leaves me standing alone in the center of the huge, echoey room as he walks to the back wall, pushing one of the leather buttons in the center of a square. There’s a quiet hum as two metal cuffs come out of the wall, one on either side of the square. He glances back at me. “Or am I going to get to have some fun?”
“I—I can’t.” My heart hammers hard, the sound of blood pumping loud in my ears. Panic fills me, my palms going damp with perspiration. I start to back away.
Do I run? Scream? Cry for help?
Or tell the truth and try to avoid whatever it is those metal cuffs are for?
Antonio pays me for my discretion. He may be a monster, but I feel I owe him some cover from the Bachmans for whatever it is he’s doing. I don’t know what was in that package. And I don’t want to tell this man about my uncle, the Meralos, how I came to work for the Accardis in the first place, then flipped my loyalty from them the moment I walked in the doors of this club, and in my cowardice begged for a job.
My feet seal to the floor, ice forming at the top of my head, working its way down over my entire body. I stand there, frozen.
Are those cuffs for me?
He makes his way back across the room to me, his steps as sleek as a panther’s in his all-black outfit. He takes my hand in his. Electricity snaps up my arm at the feel of his strong fingers circling mine. “Cannon Bachman. Owner of Fire. Come this way.”
My God… he’s the… owner?
He doesn’t even know my name, yet he’s pulling me, breaking me free from my frozen status, tugging me across this… room. This black leather room with torture devices that pop out of walls. He grabs my shoulders, turning me to face him and pressing my back against the padded leather.
His eyes stay locked with mine as his fingers circle my right wrist. I should fight him off but there is no rise to defend in my body. I just try to breathe. He lifts my arm, placing my wrist in the cold metal.
It closes around me with aclink.
He does the same with my other arm.
I stand there, staring at him, my arms stretched above my head, my wrists testing the clamps. My sweatshirt’s ridden up, cool air caressing my midriff.
I can feel the heat coming off him, a calm anger he’s well in control of. His deep voice vibrates through me as he speaks. “Tell me. Why are you here and what was in that package?”
I think of the parcel I hide behind the plant, not wanting to go through with the transfer to the Head of State. I shake my head. “I don’t know what was in that package. That’s the truth. And that’s why I hid it behind the plant. Because I didn’t want to be responsible for delivering something when I didn’t know what it was.”
He stares at my face a beat. “I believe you.”
“Thank you.” A slight sense of relief wiggles its way into the tightness knotting in my gut.
“I can only imagine it was your employer, one of the Accardis, who sent you with the package. And judging by the way the Head of State was lingering by the elevators, I assume it was for him. Is that true?”
My teeth sink into my bottom lip. My loyalty to and sense of pity for Antonio is strange, impossible to understand, but still there, underlying my decision-making. “I’m sorry but I really don’t want to say.”
His gaze darkens. “This is the way this is going to go, little girl. I’m going to ask the questions and for each one you don’t answer, there will be a punishment. And that was two questions just now. We’re already rolling.”
He walks across the room to the wall of handles, tugging one of the rectangular pulls. It is a drawer hidden in the wall. He takes what he wants, leaving the drawer open. In one hand he holds what I can only imagine is a black silicone sex toy.
My spine tingles, ice tripping over my skin. I look away. This is not happening.
Bootsteps make my knees go weak as he returns to me. His hands go to my waist, skin hot and ticklish against the bare flesh of my midriff.
A whimper rises from me. “What are you doing?”
He undoes the button of my jeans, lowering the zipper, exposing the fabric of my pink cotton panties. White heat rushes over my face at his actions. This is not happening…
