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The distance doesn’t prevent me from hearing his words. “The kitten has claws.”
“Should we clip them?” one of his goons asks, and my shoulders stiffen.
“No, I like my guests feisty.”
“Ugh.” I ball my hands into fists and pick up my pace.
I don’t even make it a few feet before arms wrap around me.
“Let me go,” I yell, flailing in his arms.
“Are you going to play nice?”
“Nope.”
“Then I’m not going to let you free.”
He tightens his hold, and no matter how much I squirm. I can’t get loose. Not when he starts walking, not when he opens the door, and certainly not when he stops in the foyer.
If I ever wondered about my strength, I now know. Against this man, it’s nothing. I can’t beat him physically, but I can beat him mentally.
I stop trying to get free.
Not just because my attempt is pathetic, but also because my mouth is hanging open in shock.
This place is incredible and not at all what I would expect.
Everywhere I look there are ornate details and intricate craftsmanship — from the marble floors to the gilded chandelier that hangs above me. As I take it all in, a feeling of awe washes over me. My eyes wander to the twin staircases that lead to the upper floors, both lined with red carpets and framed by mahogany banisters.
Holy crap.
“Good girl,” he praises.
Those simple words snap me out of my thoughts and, for some sick reason, also just about undo me. Heat pools in my center, and I don’t know how to stop it. I feel my body relax despite my wishes, and he doesn’t miss it.
“Firefly…do you like praise?”
I don’t answer because I refuse. Gideon won’t get another thing from me.
When he realizes I’m not going to respond, he swoops down and lifts me back over his shoulder on a yelp, carrying me up one of the grand staircases. It’s hard to see much from the position of my body. Flung over his shoulder and upside down, I don’t miss that he’s now walking down a long corridor.
A few feet away, I see two figures down the hall. I squint my eyes to see them better. Who are they? Maybe they can help me? But when my gaze catches one of them, my pleas become lodged in my throat.
There in the corner, cloaked by darkness, is a large man, but that’s not what makes my breath catch. It’s the look in the woman’s eyes that has me shaking.
Fear.
She’s shivering in fear at whatever the man in the shadows says. Is she here against her will, like me? Is that man hurting her?
Gideon throws open a door before I know what’s happening, and the man and woman in the hallway are now an afterthought as I’m being flung onto a large four-poster bed.
“Right now, I’m going to close the door and lock it,” he says as if he’s giving flight instructions on a plane.
Like he’s done this before. Maybe to the woman in the hall? I know this man is a drug dealer, but is he a trafficker too? My stomach lurches at the thought. This can’t be happening.
His assessing gaze tracks my movement. “You need to calm down,” he adds. “Only after you’ve settled will I open this door.”
I don’t answer him. What’s there to say? Plus, with the way my jaw trembles, I don’t even know if I could get words out if I wanted.
