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“I need to talk to you.” I stare the big one straight on, trying to ignore all the animal magnetism dripping off him. I guess that’s what truckloads of money get you… the look of a beast. Apparently, women dig that. Or at least I am… would…dig that if he weren’t about to kill me.
His brows arch down, and he stares at me as though I’ve lost my mind. “If you have to tinkle, you’re going to have to go in your panties, princess. We’re not untying—”
“Princess?The first time I let it slide, but let’s not do that. And no, I don’t have to piss.” Though, I hadn’t thought of how difficult that would be until now. “I’m going to tell you something, and I need to be able to trust you.”
He laughs. “You need to trust me?You’re dumber than I thought. That’s not how this works. You tell me what I need, and I let you go.” His tone is dark and ominous as he says, “Otherwise, this pitiful little life you have… is over.”
Pitiful little life?This guy has no idea where I’ve come from, but I’m running out of time before Bryan gets home. “Fine! Whatever. I’ll tell you what you want to know, but you have to promise me that I can trust you.”
“I thought you didn’t know anything?”
“Well, I do. I know something. So… tell me I can trust you.” There’s panic in my tone. Bryan is going to walk through that door any second and I need to know they won’t blame him for my mistakes.
“You’re fucking with me.” Big man glances toward Dex. “She’s fucking with us. Tighten her ropes.”
“You know this isn’t a punishment, right? This whole thing gets me off. The soft velvet, the growling, the gun pointed at my… hip.” I roll my eyes. “Did you get this idea fromBondage for Dummies?Did you buy this stuff from your local low budget sex shop in between jerking off truckers? Who uses a velvet rope in a kidnapping?” I grin and roll my eyes. “Anyway, in ten minutes, my fiancé is going to come through that door and he’s not as… well…. he’s seven generations of American cheese.”
“American cheese?” Mr. Britain repeats. “What in the bloody hell is that?”
“You know… he’s through and through. He’s a thoroughbred American. Well, technically speaking, his family came from Sweden like half a century ago. But since then, they’ve all been raised here… in the good old US of A and he doesn’t have the same…spunkas I do.”
The Brit laughs, scuffing a hand over his beard. “You’re calling this spunk?”
“I am, and I’m adorable, but Bryan is a nice guy. He wouldn’t hurt anyone. Whatever problems you have… they’re with me. So, take me back to your mothership and leave him out of this.”
“And what makes you un-American cheese, princess? You look pretty Americano to me. Middle aged woman, entitled, mouthy, on her third career. What’s more American than that?”
I lick the tops of my teeth. He’s found my Achilles heel. The one thing that gets me riled up more than anything… people who dispute my heritage. “I’m second-generation Sicilian. My mom’s father and mother are full blood Italian. They came over on the boat themselves. They traveled for months, and they worked hard and built a life here in America despite discrimination and hardship.”
“You Americans,” he laughs. “Your desire to cling to everything un-American is quite unpatriotic of you.”
“What?”
“It’s strange is all. Your country's obsession with DNA tests and generational heritage. You were born in America. You’re American. I don’t care that your mom cooks spaghetti every Sunday and your grandma tells you stories about lemons the size of baseballs from the old country. You’re American.”
I’ve never been more insulted in my life, though I don’t know why. “That’s what America is, asshole. It’s a country of immigrants who fled here for freedom.”
He laughs even harder and pats the top of my head. “Don’t worry. We’ll go along with your delusions. I’m not here to shake your faith in marinara sauce. I’m here to get my necklace.”
I struggle against the ropes, hoping there’s an ounce of wiggle room, but there’s not. The door handle moves to the left and the slide of a key twists from the outside.
Fuck.It’s Bryan.
“Please.” I stare up at the man in black. “Please don’t hurt him. He’s the sweetest man alive. You have to understand, he had nothing to do with this.”
I don’t know why I’m asking for mercy from a man who clearly has none to give. Truthfully, I probably would’ve done Bryan more favors if I’d pretended to hate him. Then maybe they would leave him alone.
What am I thinking lately? I squeeze my eyes closed and open them again, hoping to God this whole thing is a terrible dream.
Spoiler alert… it’s not. It’s not and the look on Bryan’s face as he walks through the door crushes me. His big round glasses fall down the bridge of his nose and he stares with his jaw slacked as though he’s not sure how to process all he’s seeing.
“Baby… It’s okay…” I try to sound as soothing as possible, but I’m not sure he’s comprehending it all yet and I doubt it’s taking the edge off of this situation.
The big man laughs. “Yes. It’s all okay, Bryan. We’re just having a little talk with your girlfriend.”
“Fiancé,” I correct, because that’s what I’m used to doing nearly everywhere we go. I’m not sure why it makes a difference. It shouldn’t… especially now. But here I am, saying more idiotic things.
The big man glares at me. In this space, next to Bryan, he looks like a giant. His hands, his feet, his shoulders, even his head is oversized. He doesn’t belong on Earth. He belongs on some planet of seven-foot aliens that aim for the hip instead of the head.
