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“Where the hell are we?” I demand.
He glances up as I stalk over. “Good morning,” he says evenly, his dark hair still wet from the shower, falling rumpled just over his cut-glass blue eyes. “Did you sleep well?”
“Fine, thanks to whatever it is you drugged me with! And you didn’t answer my question, where are we?”
He gives a shrug. “A small island in the Balearics,” he replies, looking amused.“I use it for occasional getaways. The privacy suits me. No unwanted interruptions. Do you like it?”
I recoil at his smug, even temper. “I want to leave. Now.”
“Are you forgetting that you’re my prize?” Sebastian asks, slowly getting to his feet. I’m reminded how much he towers over me, his taut frame sauntering closer, powerful as a panther ready to strike. Even dressed down, he’s still sharp and crisp, everything about him screaming control and luxury.
I take a small step back.
“Or are you planning to renege on the deal?” he asks, searching my face. “Keep in mind, Nero will owe me ten million if you do. And I’m guessing he isn’t a man you want to cross. We have that much in common, at least.”
I want to scream at him, to tell him just how much of a bastard he is, but I remember the innocent and shy role I’m supposed to be playing.
I drop my eyes and hug my arms around myself, trying to appear modest. I even tug the robe tighter, as if I’m self-conscious about the fact I’m nearly naked beneath it.
Think, Avery.
I bite my lip as I consider how to respond. It’s not difficult to appear nervous since I am. My plan has already gone way off-script with this whole ‘kidnapping’ curveball. Clearly, we’re alone out here, and I need to figure out what he’s planning.
“There’s no need to contact Nero,” I say, putting just the right amount of anxiety in my voice to sell my fear of him. “But… I don’t know what you want from me.”
Sebastian’s eyes drift over my body. “Oh, I’m sure you can imagine, a pretty little thing like you?”
I shiver, thrown by the blatant sexuality in his gaze.
“I want to make sure you understand… I’m not going to…” I wish there was a way to make myself blush, but I’m not really the demure princess I’m pretending to be and there are some things that can’t be faked. I just clear my throat and drop my eyes, as if I’m deeply embarrassed. “You won my presence, my company. Nothing more.”
Sebastian looks amused. “Are you sure about that?”
I look up sharply. “Yes. Unless you’re the kind of man who would force a woman…”
Right away, Sebastian gives me an icy stare. “I’ve never had toforcea woman to do anything. On the contrary,” he adds, the glare smoothing to a seductive smirk. “I like my women moaning for more.”
His voice drops, and he takes another step closer. “Is that how you’ll be, my sweet?” he reaches out and runs his fingertips down my cheek. “I bet you’ll look so pretty on your knees, begging for my cock.”
I lurch back as if I’ve been burned, blushing furiously for real this time. “N-no, I won’t.” I blurt, my heart racing from the illicit image he just conjured. What is happening? My cheek tingles where he touched it, as if his fingers left a mark.
Sebastian just smiles, dark and imposing. “We’ll see. I think you’ll be surprised at what you’ll be asking by the end of the month. What those pretty lips will do.” He gives a chuckle, and I feel a shudder roll through me.
But not the revulsion I would expect for a man like this. It’s something else.
Something far more dangerous.
As I’m reeling, flustered, Sebastian’s phone buzzes on the table. He turns away from me, like I’m not even there anymore. “I have business to attend to,” he says, not looking up from the screen. “Make yourself at home,” he adds. “The staff is at your disposal.”
Sebastian leaves without another word, and a moment later, a butler emerges with a coffee press. “Miss?” he asks politely, with a French accent. “Would you like me to fix you anything to eat? Omelet? Crepes? Un petit croissant?”
My stomach rumbles on command, reminding me that it’s been a day, at least, since I’ve managed to eat anything. “All of them, please,” I decide, taking a seat and catching my breath. Now Sebastian is out of sight, my tension eases—just a little. This is a temporary respite, I know, but I’m going to take advantage of it. If I’m trapped on this island with a private chef, the least I can do is fuel myself for the fight ahead.
And boy, does that coffee smell good.
* * *
I finish breakfast,then return to my room, guessing Sebastian—or his staff—will have provided me with clothing, since my luggage is still somewhere in the South of France.
