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“No, I’m aduchess!”
“Hold out your hands, please,” the man orders.
As Madeline takes a zip-tie from her purse, my hand darts toward her nose. The Middle Easterner catches my fist in his palm.
“Do not struggle.” He locks the ties around my wrists. I grimace as it bites into my flesh.
Letting out an exaggerated gasp, I then draw up my knee.
Friggen almost got him.
The man lifts his leg at the last second, and my shin crunches against his.
With a triumphant rise in her shoulders, Madeline stalks to the front door, opening it.
“You look shocked to see me,” Madeline sneers, her gaze glued all over me as the man escorts me outside. “Allow me to enlighten you.” She follows us out, closing the door behind us. “This man was searching for the one that Victorloves. At first, he came for me. Understandable, right? Since IwasVictor’s fiancée. That’s why I was at that awful restaurant and suffered through dinner with you.”
“Stop this, Maddy.” I almost fall as we walk in the darkness toward the street. “You love Victor. You patched him up when—”
“Move it, cunt.” Madeline kicks me in the back. “Someone has to pay for Victor’s sins.”
My teeth grind over the pain. She opens the passenger door of a BMW sports car. As the man shoves me inside, Maddy leans down. She sneers, “You thought you won, Luxury. You haven't won.”
“Won?” I mumble, “How have I won? You can't win love,” I say.
I search Madeline’s face. I know she still loves Victor. It may sound insane, but my eyes latch onto Madeline’s, seeking out the woman who mended Victor’s wounds while young. As the stranger rounds the car to get inside, my shaky voice dips low. “Maddy, I’m pregnant. I’m havingyour friend’schild—”
“Shut your mouth,” Madeline snaps. Her hand smacks me across the face, leaving the vision of her clouded. “You’re lying, but it doesn’t matter. You and that little bastard in your belly are going bye-bye. Victor told everyone that he loved you tonight. The Queen’s appalled. Well, that lack of judgment on Victor’s part is going to get fixed as surely as the seed in your belly will.”
My chest rises. I hock a loogie and spit. It lands on Madeline’s nose. She reaches into the car so fast that my eyes snap shut, preparing for her hit. The man points his gun in her direction. The hammer cocks back in one fluid motion. Leering at us both, Madeline smirks before slamming the door closed and stalking to a Land Rover parked behind a thicket of trees.
Through the rearview, my abductor’s dark marble eyes glare through me. “Gorgeous, are you ready for your final destination?”
Swallowing my emotions, I set my jaw. “No. I don't understand!”
“As Madeline Elliott just said, you’re here to pay for Tudor’s sins. A while back, Tudor laid his filthy hands on . . . something that didn't belong to him.” The man gulps back his repulsion, jabbing the push-button start.
“You can’t do this,” I cry, as illumination from the headlights dispels the darkness.
“You no longer are Luxury Whitson. You no longer belong to Victor Tudor. Every breath that you breathe, every time your eyes open, it will be at the mercy of Sheikh Al Rafi.”
50
Victor
Iremember one day in particular. I came home to Arlington. Instead of finding my lovely wife and my growing tot, I read a bloody eloquently written letter. Later, I’d learn that I drove past the accident site on my way home.
I’d been in a hurry to return.
Always bloody fucking late.
Always apologizing for this, that, and the other.
Mum’s behavior.
My royal duties.
The nexturgentrush from Tudor Enterprises.
