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I’d love to say that we spend the whole flight screwing like wild animals. But the truth is, the second we sit down on that plane, we both crumble from sheer exhaustion and sleep through the entire nine-hour trip.
I’m still in a bit of a fog when we get back to Gavan’s place, but I’m grinning from ear to ear, my hand tightly in his as we step through the front door.
Home. We’re home.
“Now,” he growls with a glint in his eyes that makes my core clench and throb. “Whatevershould we do now?”
I bite my lip. “Is going back to Paris for, like, anotheryearon the table?”
I shiver as he pulls me close, taking my hands in one of his and cupping my jaw with the other.
“If that’s what you want,” he murmurs quietly. “Then yes.”
I feel my cheeks heat. “You’d do that for me?”
“I’d do anything for you,” he growls, looking right into my eyes. “Because I lo—”
His eyes start from his head as he grunts violently, suddenly toppling past my shocked face and dropping to the floor. I scream, whirling to help him, when suddenly, a claw-like hand is grabbing me, wrenching me away from him, and hurling me against the wall.
I hithard, wincing as my back slams into a side table, knocking my head back against the wall and making me see stars. I topple to the side, pain lancing through my arm and wrist as I land just as the large glass vase on the side table explodes into shards around me.
But I’m not looking at my arm. My eyes have snapped across the entryway to Gavan. And suddenly, my throat closes with pure horror when I see the figure looming over him, holding a gun, leering at me.
“You little bitch,” Svetlana snarls, her face twisted with demented rage as she waves the gun erratically in my direction. “Did nobody ever tell you not to touch what isn’tyours?!”
When she turns back to a dazed, groaning Gavan, Iscreamin rage. I make an attempt to lurch to my feet, but my hands slide wetly across the floor as I slump back. When I glance down, the color drains from my face.
Oh God.
My arm is bleeding. Badly. Really,reallybadly, actually. Red ribbons drip from the ugly gash on my wrist courtesy of the shards of vase that I landed on. My gaze drags nauseatingly back to Gavan, who I’m just realizing Svetlana must have hit in the head with her gun. My face pales as she fixes her gaze on me.
“I’m going to enjoy this,” she hisses quietly. And before I can even try to form a response, she’s kneeling down next to Gavan and yanking a hypodermic needle from her pocket.
I see red.
“Don’t you fucking touch him!”
When I go to move, pain explodes through my back from slamming into the wall and in my arm from the gash. Svetlana ignores me, biting the cap off the needle and grinning savagely as she plunges it into Gavan’s arm. His eyes widen for one second, then he slumps to the ground.
I start to scream.
“Get up, you little cunt!”
I cry out in pain as Svetlana yanks me to my feet. She jams the gun against my side, shoving me further into the apartment and toward the staircase. I stumble, slip, and trip my way up the stairs with the gun pressed to my ribs, trying to bite back the pain throbbing in my back and head, not to mention the gash in my arm that feels like it’s on fire.
Svetlana shoves me down the hallway, until suddenly, she’s kicking open the door to Gavan’s playroom.
I cry out as she kicks me against the edge of the bed, shoving me down onto it before she reaches up and yanks down a pair of cuffs on a chain looped over the crossbar. She snaps one around my good wrist, then snaps the other even harder around my bloody one, making me scream with pain.
Which she laughs at.
Then, leaving me hanging there by my wrists, she exits the room.
My vision swims, and the pain pulsing through every part of my body is almost overwhelming. But I twist around anyway, trying to look out the door as I scream his name.
“GAVAN!” I choke. “GAVAN!”
