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The call is answered, and he breaks his silence.
“Hello Marcus,” he says, crushing my soul.
Marcus.
My father.
My entire body deflates, It just keeps getting worse. The chances of this not ending with me being hand-delivered back to my father, just plummeted.
“I have something that belongs to you,” the mystery man says.
Fuck, fuck, fuckity, fuck.
This cannot be happening.
My heart pounds hard and fast as the mystery man approaches. His eyes lock on mine and never waiver as he listens to whatever my father is spewing at him. His steps are steady and calculated until finally he towers over me, and I really see how gorgeous he is. With eyes as dark as coal and a face that would be the envy of any man in GQ. His hair is dark, short, and styled to perfection, with every strand in place, but something else—a dangerous, seductive energy surrounds him, taking over the room.
Then he does something that really makes my nerves explode and my brain scramble to comprehend. The mystery man lifts my hair away from my neck, taking a lock of my blonde hair and rubbing it between his fingers. Such an odd and intimate act that I just stare at him dumbfounded.
He studies it, like he’s memorising every strand, the smell, texture and colour. The intensity in his eyes has me forgetting to breathe and the spike in my heart rate is pushing beats through me like a ticking time bomb. But his face is another story, his nose crinkles, and his lips thin as he drops my hair, obviously unimpressed.
Okay, now I’m pissed. Not sure why that sets me off, but I’m smacked back to reality and remember he’s just like every other macho man I’ve ever met. I narrow my eyes at him. There is absolutely nothing wrong with my hair. I’d tell him that too, but I don’t want to make a sound. He’s so close I can hear my father yelling through the phone, or for him, talking in his natural tone. He is one angry bastard at the best of times and the last thing I want is my father to know where I am.
The mystery man appears unfazed, disinterested, even bored… before he erupts. “NO, YOU LISTEN TO ME. I WANT MY FUCKING MONEY.”
My mind swirls with confusion, and I’m not sure if I should be relieved or petrified at being in the hands of someone who clearly hates my father more than I do. Whatever the case, if my father knows he has me, then it won’t be long, money or not, he will come for me.
“And… ” The mystery man turns his gaze to me and looks directly into my eyes. “I have a feeling this might motivate you to take the stick out of your ass and get a move on bringing it to me.” He holds out the phone in front of me. “Speak.”
I close my mouth and clamp my lips firmly shut. No way in hell am I going to tell my father where I am. My uncooperative behaviour throws off my kidnapper. He furrows his brow and pushes the phone closer to my face. So I lean back and shake my head excessively. My lips turn white from the pressure, not even pliers could open them. Fingers crossed that’s not an option for him.
The phone’s so close I hear my father loud and clear. “Hello? What’s the meaning of this? You’ll pay for this boy.”
I veer back from the phone, repelling from it like it’s a bad smell. There’s absolutely no way I’m willingly going to participate. Mystery man’s frown deepens, and I don’t blame him for looking so confused. Not sure who he thought he kidnapped, but he is in for a surprise if he thinks I’m going to play along.
He glares at me and clutches his phone in his fist, his whole body is rigid and tense, and after a moment he puts the phone back to his ear but looks hesitant, even lost for words.
It’s not the first time I’ve made people scratch their heads.
He clears his throat, regaining his composure. “Seems like the cat’s got her tongue.”
I nod.
His frown grows deeper, and the confusion in his eyes could almost make me laugh, If it wasn’t a life and death situation, of course.
He shakes his head and concentrates on the call. “I want my money.”
My dad isn’t that dumb, the word ‘she’ would set him off. He knows he has me, and he knows there’s no way I’d want to talk to him. I hear my father yelling through the phone, it’s incoherent and full of swear words, as per usual, but the mystery man cuts him off.
“Expect my call.” He hangs up abruptly.
I let out the breath I was holding in as he tosses the phone onto the bed.
“Since when are you a fucking mute?” His dark eyes pin me down with his hot gaze.
In a normal situation, that statement would be the funniest thing I’ve heard. Me, a mute? But this isn’t a normal situation, this is one that could very well have me back in my father’s grasps, which means back into Sergei’s.
Not. Going. To. Happen.
