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I move forward and for each one step I take, Imogen takes two backward until she collides with the corner post of the bed. She goes rigid but holds her ground. I stop when my chest brushes hers. Her eyes are filled with hatred, but a lesser man wouldn’t notice the flicker of a deeper emotion behind it or the catch of her breath. I palm the back of her neck and thread my fingers through her hair before slowly lowering my head to brush my lips across hers. A tease really. Merely a prelude of what’s to come.
I’ll give her credit. She tries not to react, but beneath my thumb, her pulse races. I flick my tongue out and at first she resists, but I continue my gentle coaxing until she opens sweetly for me. Beautifully. Oh, yes, I’m going to enjoy seducing, and taming, this fiery minx. I deepen the kiss and Imogen meets my tongue stroke for stroke. She tastes of shortbread with a hint of citrus. It might be my new favorite flavor. I draw back taking one final lap of her sweetness. She slowly opens her bright blue eyes that have gone dark with arousal.
“I could fuck you right now. Couldn’t I?” I can’t help but goad.
Her emotions change in the blink of an eye and the arousal is replaced with fury. Her body vibrates with it. God, she is glorious in her rage.
“Get. Out.”
I dip my head in a mocking gesture, a smirk shifting across my lips, and go back through the open doorway to my room. I close the door behind me and turn the lock. For a minute, I stand there straining to capture any noise coming from the other side, but it’s completely quiet. No sobs. No angry tantrum. Only the silence.
I’m tempted to pull my cock out and stroke it to release, but I have more self-control than that. Instead, I head for my office where I finalize plans for my takeover.
CHAPTER FIVE
Imogen
The longer I’m locked in this room, the more pissed I get. A feat I didn’t believe possible. There isn’t a clock in here, but based on the fact that it’s dusk outside, I’m guessing I’ve been in here for at least four hours. Thank god I have a bathroom. Someone also kindly left a bottle of water. How nice of them. That doesn’t change the fact that I haven’t eaten more than my scone since this morning and a couple biscuits and I’m fucking starving. Which is only making me hangry.
I slam my fists into the mattress and growl. My feet had gotten tired standing and pacing. So even though I’m bored out of my goddamn mind, I’ve been sitting at the head of the bed with my knees pulled to my chest ever since—stewing. Alternating between glaring at both locked doors and plotting how to get out of this damn place. And when I do, Liam Campbell is going to regret taking me. Already, I’ve figured out what organizations I plan on donating all his money to when I hack into his bank accounts and drain them dry.
I’ve already cried twice. Not because I’m scared—although I am certainly that—but because I’m furious. Aside from Mum’s funeral, the only time I ever cry is when I’m rage-filled. And being kidnapped off the street, held captive in a dangerous man’s home, belongings withheld, and not given proper sustenance is enough to make any girl rage-y. I’m also pissed at not only Liam, but myself for that kiss and how much I liked it.
A lock clicks. I freeze.
The door opens and he strides through. Gone is the expensive suit jacket and tie. Instead the top few buttons of his white dress shirt are undone, and his sleeves are rolled up exposing his forearms. The right one is decorated in colorful tattoos that climb upward and disappear beneath his shirt. How far up do they go? You’re pissed off, remember? Who cares?
“If you behave yourself you can come out to the dining room for dinner.”
I grit my teeth. “Do you treat all your prisoners like a child who’s been sent to their room or am I the lucky one?”
That smirk I want to punch off his face returns briefly. “Is that how I’ve been treating you, then? Like a child? Because that’s certainly not how I see you. I’m more than happy to demonstrate again if you need reminding.”
There’s a small flutter in my belly that votes yes for that, but I only give him a patronizing smile and climb off the bed. I hate giving in to his little game, but my stomach is the one in charge at the moment and is vetoing every other decision except the one that ends with being fed. I move across the room and sweep past him without a word. I brace for him to grab me or stop me in some way, but when nothing happens, I continue walking. His footsteps follow me.
The hallway is brightly lit by recessed lighting in the ceiling. The full length of the wall to my left is made entirely of glass. I pass a single door on my right. The passageway opens to a large, contemporary sunken living area with a massive fireplace and sleek black furniture. The warmth is comforting. I nearly gasp at the water cascading down another wall.
“Welcome to my home.” Liam strides past me since I’ve stopped in the middle of the room to admire the indoor waterfall.
I don’t want to find anything appealing about my prison. Forcing my gaze away, I follow him as we cross the entryway with a white-and-black marble floor and spiral staircase leading to the second level and into the next room. Finally the delicious scent of food hits me. The dining room table is set for two people. One at the head of it and the second at the seat to the right. A covered baking dish is set between them.
“Come. Sit.” Liam gestures toward the table.
For a brief second, I’m tempted to move the place setting to the opposite end as him, but I don’t want to jeopardize my chances of eating. I’ll pick the battles that are worth fighting. Once I’m seated, he does the same. “Please, help yourself. It’s my famous shepherd’s pie.”
I shoot him a quick glance. His shepherd’s pie?
Liam’s eyes widen innocently. “What, you don’t believe I can cook?”
“I hadn’t given it any thought, actually.” Without waiting for him, I dig into the generous helping I dipped out onto my plate. Oh my god. It’s delicious. Refusing to give him the satisfaction of seeing how much I’m enjoying it, I keep my expression as blank and as bored as I can.
“Is the food not to your liking?” There’s almost a mocking tone to his question, as though he knows quite well it is.
“It tastes like shepherd’s pie.” I manage a shrug trying for nonchalance. “Considering I haven’t eaten since your creepy stalker visit to the bakery this morning, I’m sure anything would taste good at this point.”
His face darkens. “That was over twelve hours ago. Why haven’t you eaten since then?”
“Oh, I don’t know, let me see. Your goons kidnapped me off the street on my way to get food and I’ve been stuck in a locked room for fucking hours. Why do you think?” My words drip with disdain. Not that I expect Liam Campbell to feel an ounce of guilt, but whatever scrap of decency he might have in him, well…I hope he chokes on it.
