I’m on the floor, hands still tied, gagged, rolling over the glass that I didn’t mean to break. I knew I shouldn’t have tried to get out of bed, but what other choice did I have? I was in a room alone, and even with my ankles and wrists bound, I had to try to escape.
I failed.
Because I couldn’t hop across the floor to get to the window, and how would I open it? Instead, I hopped, slammed my hip against the nightstand, shattered a gorgeous vase, lost my balance, and fell.
Now, I’m stuck.
My skin is cut since I’m lying on broken glass from the vase. I try to stay still so the shards won’t prick my skin, but not moving hurts too. Every piece seems to cut deeper. A whimper escapes me, and my eyes begin to burn from the tears, the pain, the stress of this entire situation, and I don’t know if I can take it anymore.
The door opens, and my eyes slide to see if Otello is standing there so he can help me up. He’s so odd, but he could be way worse for a kidnapper. He didn’t break the vase and make me fall on the floor. I did that.
But I wouldn’t have if I wasn’t bound and gagged like a stuffed pig.
I freeze when I see Otello standing next to someone else, someone older, more refined, and more in control.
He runs over to me, kicking the sharp pieces of broken glass out of the way. He squats down, a look of pure horror on his face, and slides his arms around me.
I whimper from the cuts on my arms and legs.
“I know. I have you. You’re okay. I promise,” he says gently, laying me on the bed. He curls over me, pushing my hair back as if he’s trying to get a good look, and that’s when I see his eyes.
I’ve seen them before. They are the brown eyes I can’t get out of my head.
He turns his head away from me, giving me the sharp edge of his jaw. “What the hell did you do, Otello? She’s hurt.” He charges Otello and slams him against the wall. “What the fuck did you do to Mable?”
He knows my name. How does this man know me?
“I didn’t hurt her. She did that to herself, Dri.”
Dri. I’ve heard that before. It’s tickling the back of my mind, reminding me of a memory that’s been in the dark for far too long. I can’t recall it. It’s in the shadows of my mind.
“You fucking tied her hands and legs. She can’t walk. She’s scared. You did this. Get the fuck out.”
“I did you a favor! I saw your little room, Dri. The one no one is allowed to see. I know how much you’ve wanted—”
I gasp when Dri punches Otello. A droplet of blood flows down his lip.
“Get out,” Dri seethes, swinging the bedroom door open for Otello to leave.
Otello looks back at me and frowns. “I’m sorry, Mable.” He walks out of the room, stops in the middle of the doorway, and turns his head slightly. “You’ll thank me later, Dri.” And then strolls away.
“Don’t count on it.” Dri slams the door and then runs over to me again. “I’m so sorry for my brother.” He goes to untie my wrists, and I pull away from him, a scared whimper leaving me. “You don’t have to be afraid, Mable. I would never hurt you. I would never…” he swallows, his Adam’s apple bobbing, and a ragged breath escapes him. “You will never have to worry about me hurting you. My brother is…different. He means well, but he doesn’t go about it the right way. Let me get the shards of the vase from your skin. A few look like they hurt.”
I nod, a tear escaping down my cheek.
He brushes it away, his brows dipping with concern, and he cups my cheek. “I promise, I swear on my life, I will not hurt you. Let me help, Mable.” He reaches for the gag that’s been silencing me for hours, and I jerk away from him on instinct. “It’s okay,” he reassures again. His calloused fingertips awaken the nerves in my skin, and I relax for some reason, being immediately drawn to this man.
And that scares the hell out of me.
He tosses the gag to the side, and I lick my lips for the first time in hours. I’m so thirsty.
“You poor thing. Your skin is so red. My sweet angel,” his touch is a feather across my skin, and I wince. “I know, it’s raw. I’m so sorry about my brother. I could kill him for doing this to you.”
“For kidnappers, he could have been a lot worse,” I manage to say, my voice hoarse.
“Would you like some water?”
I nod my head, trying to remain calm and collected while I try to figure out how I know this man and how I can escape.
“I’m going to go grab water and some bandages, okay? I’ll be right back. Don’t move. Well, you know what I mean.”
I snort, lifting my wrists to show I can’t really go anywhere anyway.
I stare up at the ceiling, watching the fan blades spin and spin, blurring together with a force I wish I had at this moment. The breeze feels good against my feverish skin, drying the sweat until I feel sticky. I’d like to shower and put on a clean pair of clothes. I hear him rummaging around in his bathroom, and I’m left wondering why the hell I’m here and how he knows me or what he wants with me.
He knows my name, but I don’t know this man. I have never met him, and I’d remember a face as beautiful as his. It’s one that isn’t easily forgotten. He’s all sharp edges, intense gazes, stubble on his cheeks, and muscular arms under his tailored shirt. His espresso-brown hair is almost black, but I notice the depth of the warm hues throughout the styled strands in the light.
I shouldn’t notice such things about my kidnapper’s brother, but even tied like a pig, I suppose it’s hard to ignore when someone is absolutely breathtaking.
My attention floats to the bedroom door, and I want to try to get up again, but it’s pointless. I can’t walk like this. All I have to do is give it time. Dri seems to be a little more level-headed, still kind, but not as careless as his brother. Maybe if I talk to him, he will let me go home.
“Okay, this isn’t going to be fun. It will hurt, but I’ll try to make it as quick and painless as possible.” He sets the first-aid kit on the bed, then opens the door to the mini fridge across from the foot of the bed, snagging a bottle of water. He smiles; well, it’s more like a sexy smirk as he walks over to the side of the bed. He unscrews the cap, and the crack of the plastic breaking causes me to flinch.
I imagine this guy breaking my bones for a split second, and new fear has my heart rate kicking up a notch.
“I won’t hurt you, Mable. You have never been safer, and I promise you that.” The bed dips when he sits down next to me, and his thumb slides under my chin. “Open,” he says.
I roll my lips together instead.
He lifts a groomed brow, amused by my antics. “You think I’d poison you only when I’ve just got you? Silly, girl.” He lifts the bottle to his mouth and takes a long swig. My dumb brain forgets where we are for a moment, and I watch as his throat moves up and down. He licks his lips, but they are still wet from the water. “See? It’s safe.”
I open my mouth, lifting my head and dying for something to drink. He bends down, cups my head with his large palm, and holds me closer to him. He presses the bottle against my lips, and I whimper when he tilts it.
“Careful,” he warns just as the cold water hits the back of my throat.
I chug it, but some runs out of the side of my lips. I don’t care. I drink it greedily as if I haven’t had a drink in days. It feels like days…hell, weeks.
He pulls the water away, and I can take a breath.
“Slow down, or you’ll drink too much too fast and get sick.”
I don’t say anything but nod my head to acknowledge I heard him. He lifts the bottle to my lips again, and I try to drink it slower. The plastic crinkles the emptier the bottle becomes, and when I’ve consumed every drop, it tosses it to the side.
“Better?”
I nod my head, lying back down on the bed, sighing. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” He opens the nightstand and grabs something that fits in the palm of his hand. With a flick of his wrist, a blade slashes through the air, and the shine of the light reflects from the silver.
A scream rips through me, and I roll away from him, falling right off the bed with a hard thump. My shoulder screams since it hits first. The shards of the damn vase impale in my skin dig deeper from hitting the floor, and I cry out again.
“Mable!” Dri runs around the bed and is at my side instantly.
“Don’t hurt me, please,” I beg him, letting the tears I’ve been holding back fall free. “Please. I just want to go home. Please.” I can’t seem to stop begging. “I just want to go home. Can I go home?”
His arms are under me, lifting me from the floor and onto the bed again. I hiss when his hand drifts over my shoulder, and a flash of anger drifts over his eyes.
“Why would you do that? Why would you hurt yourself?”
“You have a knife! How was I supposed to react?” I scream at him, turning my head away as I cry. I squeeze my eyes shut and think about my best friend, the only person in the world who cares about me. She will come for me. She will figure out something is wrong when I don’t call her.
His hands are on my cheeks, his thumb rubbing against my bottom lip as he turns my head. “Look at me, Mable.”
I shake my head, squeezing my eyes shut as tightly as possible. This is all a bad dream. It has to be.
“Look. At. Me,” he repeats.
I open my eyes, and he is holding the knife again. I whimper, trying to wiggle away from him, but he holds me down, slicing through the ropes around my wrist. “That’s all I wanted to do. That’s it. You aren’t a prisoner here.”
I don’t believe that for a second.
He examines the burns around my wrists, the marks irritated and red from pulling against the restraints. “I’m going to kill my brother for doing this to you.” He slices through the ropes binding my ankles next, and he rotates each foot in a circle, and it relieves some of the aches from being tied for so long.
I groan because it feels so good, and Dri inhales, staring at me with dark, stormy eyes. He clears his throat and gently places my foot down on the bed.
“I never would have dreamed of doing this to you, Mable. Will you let me help you with your wounds or are you going to fight me?” he asks, sliding his palm up my leg.
I’m not sure if he knows he is doing it, but I don’t like how the touch of his calloused skin against mine causes my breath to catch.
“I don’t have the energy to fight you,” I reply honestly, my voice hoarse with exhaustion.
“Yes, you do,” he says, opening the first-aid kit. “You’re stronger than you realize. You don’t give up easily.”
“You act as if you know me,” I say, hissing when he takes the tweezers he has pulled from the first-aid kit and plucks a small piece of the vase from my skin.
He drops the sliver on a piece of gauze and hums but doesn’t look at me as he continues to tend to my wounds.
I’m not sure why his silence is grating, but there’s no doubt he and I know each other. His eyes don’t lie. I know this man.
And no matter how much he tries to make me feel safe and no matter how hard he causes my heart to beat, nothing in this world could ever make me stay here.
“You know, people will look for me. I have people who care about me. People who love me, even my husband.”
He plucks a piece of the vase out of my arm with more force than usual. “Don’t test me, Mable. I’m not the man you need to try to anger right now. I am in charge. I have the power. I know for a fact you don’t have a husband.”
“How? Because I do. I can tell you anything you want to know about him.”
Dri curls his lip but doesn’t say a word, but I can tell he is seething. He is still gentle with me, dabbing each small cut with alcohol before slathering antibiotic cream over each one, then a band-aid.
“He’ll miss me. I check in every night with him, and he is going to turn this world upside down for me. And you and your brother are going to be screwed.”
Dri stands quickly, tossing the tweezers across the room. They hit the wall before clattering to the floor. Like a madman, he runs his fingers through his hair, and the dark strands hang to the side of his face. He places each hand on either side of my head, lowering his head until his mouth is just an inch away from mine.
“I don’t care if you are married and have a family, Mable. You’re mine now.” He tucks a piece of hair behind my ear, and his hand falls to my throat, lightly wrapping around it. “You’ve been mine for a very long time, and it’s fate that you’re here. Keep testing me, Sweetness, and you will fail. I might be kinder than my brother, but when it comes to you, I have no limits on what I will do and who I will kill. You have fallen into my lap, and I will not let you go.” He presses a kiss to my cheek, and my body betrays me. The nerve endings in my skin come alive and fire back and forth.
Whatever the connection is between us, it’s simmering, and I can’t allow it to boil over.
He pushes from the bed and stalks to the door, slamming it behind him as he leaves.
I hear the lock click in place, and I know I’m trapped. I’ll take this one night to myself. I’ll sleep, heal, use his shower, and tomorrow, I’ll figure out a way to get out of here.
I don’t care what lies I have to tell.
I’m going home.
And I don’t care what I have to do to make that happen.
