She looks confused for a second, until I wave my free hand between us. As soon as she realizes I’ve let her go, she hauls back and slaps me. Her hand cracks across my face, but I barely feel it. All the sensation in my body appears to be focused on my three fingers. She pushes on my chest, and I allow her to shove me back.
My fingers miss the warmth of her, and as I back towards the door, I bring them to my mouth and lick them clean. She stills as she watches me, and her lips part. I want to push her up against the wall and finish the job. I want to leave only when she’s trembling and weak from the dirty things I’ve done to her body. But I can’t. Because that would be losing control, and I can’t let that happen. Not now, not ever. There’s too much at stake.
“That will only happen once,” I say, running a hand down my red cheek. “Do it again, and you’ll regret it.”
“What is happening? Why am I here?” She won’t make eye contact with me, and it feels like my job is almost done. She’s afraid.
“All in good time,” I say, even though I have no plans to explain any details to her. She’s a pawn. Nothing more. “But get comfortable. Your father hasn’t responded yet, so it may be a while.”
“My father?” She stands tall, hands fisted at her sides. “What the hell is going on here? Why did you grab me? Why are you doing this?”
I turn around and reach for the door, but before I can pull it open, something hits me in the back of the head. I spin around and see her high-heeled shoe bouncing across the floor. Her face is a mask of anger and rage, but there’s a crack in it. Regret, maybe? Doubt?
I don’t wait to figure it out. In a second, I’m across the room, and she’s pressed flat against the wall. My chest pins her in place, and I can feel her every gasping breath. She tries to turn her face away, but I roughly turn her towards me. I want her to look at me while I talk to her. I want her to see that her actions have consequences. Because if they don’t, my men—my father’s men—will think I’ve gone soft. My hard-won authority will crumble to nothing.
“This is your second warning, and I promise you, there will not be a third.” She squirms under the press of my body, but I don’t let up. I walk my fingers over her collarbone and around her neck, wrapping my hand around her throat. She swallows, and I feel every muscle required for the movement. “Your father is ignoring our requests, so we did something to grab his attention.”
Bella. That’s her name. And looking down at the curve of her cheekbones, her wide eyes, her full lips, it’s a fitting name. She’s beautiful.
She’s also dangerous.
She opens her mouth to say something, and I want nothing more than to lean down and press my lips to hers. I want to silence her with my tongue and run my hands down her body until I tire of the feel of her against my skin.
Instead, I push away from her, knocking her to the side, where she falls in a heap on the floor. Then, before she can say anything else that will no doubt infuriate me and drive me wild, I lock the door and march up the stairs.
I cannot afford to lose control.
Chapter Three
Bella
I told the man I wasn’t afraid of him, but I lied. Of course I lied. He’s huge and strong and angry. And despite all of that, I wanted him. I wanted his fingers inside of me. I’m afraid of that most of all.
The way my body responded to his touch, to his nearness. It felt like some unevolved part of me was pushing me towards him, encouraging me to run my hands through his dark hair and wrap my legs around his waist.
When he leaves, I’m scared and cold and ... horny.
It’s an embarrassing truth to reckon with, but I wished he’d finished the job. My skin feels too small to contain me, and every brush of fabric, the floor, and even my own hand against my skin sends shivers down my body.
But I’ll be out of here soon enough. I cling to that. The man mentioned my father, and he would do anything to save me. I know he would. If he thinks for even a second I’m in trouble, he’ll turn the world upside down to get me back. I know that’s true.
It has to be true.
I doze on and off for the next couple hours, thoughts of the man’s fingers invading my dreams. When he opens the cell door, I’m half convinced it’s a dream. Which is why when he tips his head towards the door, asking me to follow him, I do it without question.
The hallway is long and dark, and as a pervasive chill sinks into my skin, I realize this is all too real. I’m being held captive. By people I don’t recognize. For reasons I don’t understand.
I’m smart and scrappy, but I can’t fight a villain I don’t know.
“Where are we going?” I ask, hoping he doesn’t notice the tremble in my voice.
He doesn’t answer or act as though he has heard me.
“I’m Bella,” I say. “I’m sure you already know that, though. What’s your name?”
His head turns towards me almost imperceptibly. Just the vaguest acknowledgement that I’m walking behind him. Then, he stops suddenly, and I slam into his back.
When I right myself, he’s pointing to the door to his right. “Open it.”
I back away. “No.”
There could be anything behind there. Another cell—a worse cell. A pit of snakes. A man waiting to kill me. My father.
My heart catches at that thought.
My father could be behind
