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The room I’m in is not mine. Nothing looks familiar, and I try to figure out where the hell I am. I take in the furniture, which is all oak, not the dark wood from my childhood home or the Ikea furniture from my apartment.
The walls are made of light wooden logs, thick and sturdy, and the small window to the left of the bed I’m on is shut tight. But from where I am, I can tell the view is no longer the small town I’ve come to love. All I see are trees. The forest thick and lush, and the gray sky looming ominously overhead.
Another crash sounds from somewhere, and then last night flashes in my mind. The man, the stranger who is no longer a stranger. It’s Logan. I remembered him the moment he showed me his face. Anger surges through me when I recall his words to me— “The moment you turn your back on me, I’ll follow you, and I will most certainly steal you from your life here.”
The asshole really fucking kidnapped me. Shooting to my feet, I head to the door, twisting the handle, but it’s locked. I slam my palms against the wood, screaming at him to let me out.
“You asshole! I’m not fucking kidding, let me out!” My voice is hoarse, the words scratching against my throat. “Logan fucking Oakridge!” Again, he ignores me, or he can’t hear me because I’m still alone a minute later.
I glance around the room, looking for something I can use as a weapon, but with every drawer I open, I come up empty. He wasn’t kidding, and now I’m stuck in the middle of nowhere with that asshole.
I can’t believe he came for me. When I was ten, I looked up at him, hoping he’d smile at me. Now all I want him to do is walk away from me like he did all those years ago. Guilt is a heavy burden to carry. But no matter what he does, he can’t fix what he did.
Leaning against the wall beside the window, I slide down until my ass hits the floor. The coolness of the room makes me shiver. I don’t know how long I sit there staring off into space when I hear footsteps outside the door. I want to move, to run toward it, but I don’t feel like fighting him right now. Even if I tried, he’s taller, bigger, and stronger than I am.
“Good morning, Beauty.” He smiles, and even though it looks like a genuine grin, anger flares inside me, and I’m on my feet in seconds.
“What the fucking hell is wrong with you?” I shove against his chest, my fists no match for his hard muscles. The man is strong, wide, and tall. I have to tilt my head back to look at him. He’s wearing glasses, the dark rims circling his almost-black eyes. Logan is no longer the young boy who sneered at me. He’s a man, one who’s looking at me as if he’s about to devour me whole.
The flannel shirt he’s wearing is unbuttoned, and I can’t tear my gaze away from his smooth, inked chest underneath. The man is mammoth. I didn’t notice it much when we were at the park, but now that we’re both on similar ground, I can’t stop staring. His dark hair is messily styled, sticking out in every direction. His angular jaw and sharp features look like they’ve been crafted with the finest materials by an artist who loved his work.
“I told you, Beauty,” he speaks, dragging my attention back to the present and to the fact that he kidnapped me. “I won’t let you get hurt.”
“What you did was illegal!”
“It was. But then again, I’m an Oakridge. We’ve been doing illegal things since my grandfather took over from his dad and made friends with the gangs of Chicago.” He shrugs as if this is normal, as if crime should be something to chat about over breakfast. At that thought, my stomach grumbles loudly, and Logan glances over me, his eyes trailing from my stomach up to my breasts then to my eyes.
“I can’t be locked in here all the time.” I don’t know why I’m saying that. It sounds like I’m accepting that this is normal, but the only thing I can think of right now is washing up and trying to find a way to make him let me go.
“Perhaps. But until you stop yelling at me to let you go, you’ll spend your time in here.” He doesn’t look like he’s joking. “When you learn that this will be your new home for the foreseeable future, then and only then will you be allowed freedoms like going into the garden.”
“This is fucking ridiculous!”
He arches a brow at my outburst, and I force myself to rein it in. I’m more frustrated and angrier than I’ve ever been.
