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“Please, Madame, if you just come with us, you will be saving our lives.”
They had central locking, and of course, she was handcuffed to one of her assailants.
How was this happening to her now?
No one would know what had happened to her. Would Hunter even care?
Her grandfather thought she was safe and headed to his house to apologize to Hunter.
She sat back in the seat and accepted that the two men who had kidnapped her seemed as afraid as she was.
She had to think about this logically, and it started with finding out who wanted to take her and why, and she was 100% certain they had the wrong woman. That settled in her mind, and she also believed she would be released as soon as they realized they had the wrong person.
Still, two hours seemed more like ten. Dawn was about an hour away when they finally stopped in front of a huge white mansion.
She was carefully taken inside. Another man, dressed in a pristine suit, inspected her, then unlocked the cuffs from her and her captor’s wrists. The men scurried away.
“Why am I here? Who are you?” she demanded.
“All your questions will be answered in due course. For now, Madame, I will show you to your room, where you may freshen up. Your host will be with you shortly.”
Host was a poor choice of word for someone who had orchestrated her kidnapping. Forced to follow the man up a vintage staircase, she did start to panic when he directed her into an enormous bedroom, closed the door, and pulled a lock into place.
She paced up and down the room, trying to find a way out but finding nothing.
Exhaustion took over, and she dozed off despite forcing herself to stay awake.
By the time she woke up, it was already midday the next day.
Oh god.
A knock on the door startled her. A man entered and was followed by a timid-looking woman who laid out a dress and underwear on the bed and shoes beside it.
“If Madame would like to freshen up,” she said demurely, bowed, and left with the man.
Kensley couldn’t make out whether she was forced to change into the dress or not. It seemed a bit ambiguous when they didn’t outright tell her what to do.
Biting her lip, she stepped into the magnificent bathroom, lined up with luxury-brand toiletries.
She took a vigorous shower, washed her hair, and then put on the clothes, which fit her like a glove. The dress was black and long, and it hugged her curves.
Panic started to take hold of her now that the surreality of the situation had worn off.
She had been kidnapped, and the person she needed most was Hunter. She shook her head and forced herself to be strong. She was going to get out of there. She was going to—
The door unlocked, and she stumbled backward as Hunter McLeod entered the room. Dressed in a suit, he somehow looked even more formidable than ever.
He had just showered. She could smell his cologne and the shampoo on his damp hair.
“I know I said I couldn’t take you with me where I was going, but I fucking lied,” he said as he slipped his hands into his trouser pockets, legs braced apart, magnificently male.
“I’m the son of one of the most dangerous crime lords. He died six months ago, and it’s my duty to take over where he left off. I’m now the new kingpin here.”
From his inside jacket pocket, he retrieved a rolled-up sheet of paper and placed it on the table beside him, along with a pen.
“This is your contract. It’s a marriage license. You’re my wife, and that’s not negotiable.”
Chapter Twenty-Three
