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I can feel the way his heart beats through the material of my shirt, and it causes shivers to run down my spine. His nearness. His smell. He’s…he’s a sensory overload. It’s too much.
I shouldn’t be attracted to this man, yet my body has its own response despite what my brain is saying.He kidnapped you.
The idea of being whisked out of my apartment, taken by a stranger to an unknown location, should be enough to wipe away any untoward thoughts I’m having. He’s my captor.
I should want to fight him regardless of the fact, but deep down, I do believe that someone is after me. I can sense it in my gut. That uneasy feeling of being watched. Being followed. I felt it all over the past few days.
Maybe it was him.
But what if it wasn’t?
Not a single person came to my aid, and a struggle had ensued. Someone had to have heard it. Yet nobody helped me. He promises safety, but the next person…will likely kill me on the spot.
My mind races with all the deadly possibilities, and for a moment, I start to come to terms with my current situation. Alive is better than the alternative, and for now, that’s good enough for me.
It isn’t long before we finally roll to a stop. My heart beats so fast it feels like a hummingbird is living in my chest.
Where am I?
What happens next?
Before I can think up any more questions and horrors, the bag is lifted off my head.
It takes me a minute to get my bearings. Blinking several times, I work to let the lights from the car give me sight. Eventually, everything comes into focus.
We’re parked in front of what I assume must be this man’s house, but house is a gross understatement.
This place is like an English manor. Its sprawling acreage boasts manicured lawns and mature trees you don’t see in the city. The grounds are beautiful, and I can’t help but want to explore.
But the home…it’s something else entirely.
It’s the largest home I’ve ever seen.
The more I study it, the more I realize it looks like a museum. One I went to with my parents before they died.
When life was still easy and dreams were possible.
Going down memory lane is not a good idea right now, so instead, I continue to take in where I’m apparently going to be staying for lord knows how long.
This place is fit for a king.
Which makes sense since Gideon has such a high opinion of himself.
I have no idea where we are, but the opulence of the façade alone has my breath leaving my body.
I’m enamored. That much is for sure.
What has me shaking is how awful a man he must be to afford this monstrosity. It’s not like he’s a doctor.
He’s a drug dealer. No…drug lord.
The number of people he must be responsible for hurting—killing—to be able to accumulate this type of wealth…is staggering.
I hate him and all he represents.
“Get out of the car.” His voice cuts through my inner ramblings, and my shaking immediately stops, giving way to a building anger.
That’s right, Sasha…harness the anger.
