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The night has been a tremendous success, and my mood is fantastic. I made a tonne of money. Set up two great people that’s sure to make them smile. And I look hot as fuck in this free dress.
Life is perfect.
Well, that is if I forget the reason I’m thousands of miles away from home, a bleached blonde and keep a bag full of clothes and cash stashed away in case I need to bounce quickly. But overall, it’s perfect for me and a million times better than what I left behind in Sydney.
I turn down the side alley and see my car, a slightly dented twenty-year-old Suzuki Swift waiting for me. A bleak reality check. My little love bug has paint peeling off the roof and the driver’s side door is currently stuck shut because of a broken latch.
I need to sort this out ASAP. But I cannot justify wasting the money I’ve saved the past year and a half on a car right now. There is no way I can get a loan with my fake papers, so this little love bug is going to have to do. It starts mostly on the first try, and it only cost me five hundred dollars.
Since the driver’s side door is busted, I head over to the passenger side, insert the key into the lock, and jiggle it with a bit of elbow grease.
Before the click comes, an arm swings into my line of sight and slaps a white cloth across my face. The person holding me presses their hot hand against my mouth, keeping me from screaming. I feel a burning, tingling sensation all over my body and try to inhale, but something bitter and toxic fills my nose and lungs, choking me. The hard body behind me presses me against the car door and my vision starts to blur and before my brain registers what’s happening, darkness takes over and I lose consciousness.
My head falls to the side, waking me. It’s heavy and groggy like the worst hangover I’ve ever had, but I keep my eyes closed, for now. Once I open them, I know I’m going to have to deal with the reality of my situation. Before that happens, I need to take stock, so I can figure out how totally screwed I am.
I’m lying flat on something soft and silky, even with my foggy brain, caused by whatever knocked me out, I’m smart enough to know it’s a bed.
Not good.
My hands are cuffed behind my back.
Again, not good.
But I do feel my skintight white dress, that’s already part of a life I’m going to miss, still on. So, that’s a win. My body doesn’t feel sore, not my ribs, face, or other parts. I’m counting that as a win too.
The odds of this kidnapping being a random unlucky attack is as slim as me being the first woman on Mars. This has to be something to do with my father, or worse.
Sergei.
That gets my blood running cold, but I rule that out quick smart. This isn’t Sergei’s style, he’s not the hiding in a dark alley type. If he found me, he’d make a production of it, not just sneak up on me from behind.
It must be my father.
Whatever this is about, I’m not about to stay lying on my back. The sooner I know what I’m up against the sooner I can plan my escape… again.
I open my eyes slowly, and they adjust to the dim lighting in the room and focus on the ceiling. It’s white with ornate moulding at the edge and a lavish chandelier in the centre. I’m not sure what I was expecting or why it matters, but at least my kidnapper has nice taste. Surely, I’m not about to be chopped up into little pieces in a room with a ceiling this grand. No one wants to spill blood in such opulence. Unless you’re one person I know, and then this really could be the worst night of my life.
I sit up, too fast, and recklessly, and a surge of adrenaline and blood rushes to my head, making the room spin and nausea swell inside me. But staying on the bed isn’t an option and I swing my legs off the mattress, ready to bolt.
That’s when I freeze.
A man shrouded in darkness, dressed in a dark tailored suit stands from the corner chair. He steps into the light and my mouth goes bone dry. Not because of his undeniable handsome face and the unnerving way he’s assessing my every move. Instead, it’s because I’ve been around men like him. His power floats around him like a cloud.
This is not one of my father’s men.
Or Sergei’s.
Maybe this really is a wrong place, wrong time kidnapping. A glimmer of hope and fear both flicker inside me, and I’m not sure which one will ignite first.
“Hello, Lilliana,” he says with a deep, smooth voice that suits every part of him.
Oh fuck.
That’s one question answered. He says my name as if it belongs in his mouth, like he’s hunt is finally over. But there’s no way I will cower now. I’ve come too far and gone through enough shit to be intimidated by another tough guy.
“Who are you?” I lift my chin demanding an answer.
He ignores me, eyes fixed like a predator slowly stalking his prey. He pulls out his phone, dialling a number before pressing it to his ear. I watch captivated as the ring echoes through the room.
