Buying Him, page 4
Dammit!
The light was bright and made her head thump. Her stomach wanted to turn inside out at the painful pulsing at her temples, and her mouth tasted as if it already had. She stuck her tongue out in disgust and wrinkled her nose. She needed painkillers and a toothbrush, pronto.
‘Hey, you okay?’ a deep, male voice asked. It set her on high alert. She knew every member of staff at Renfrew Hall and what they sounded like. It was all part of the security protocols in case anyone tried-
Unknown voices. Uncomfortable bed. Unfamiliar smells…
Oh, God. She’d been kidnapped!
‘Are you okay?’ the voice enquired again. ‘Do you want some water?’
She wanted to shake her head no, but she knew if she did it would likely explode. And then there were the rules security had drilled into her over the years…
Do whatever they say.
Accept kindnesses, lest they become angry at you.
Look at everything you can.
And if you can’t see, listen!
She gave her captor a weak thumbs-up out of the side of the blanket to his question, and listened intently to his heavy footfall as he moved around. There wasn’t carpet on the floor and the slightly sticky footsteps made her already queasy stomach clench uneasily. She tried to open her mouth to alleviate the cotton wool feeling that filled it and cringed as she felt the skin on her lips slowly pulling apart. Seriously, what the hell had happened? How had they managed to take her? She built up the courage to ask the questions when a cool glass was gently pressed against her dry mouth.
She jumped at the contact and the water sloshed over her lips, wetting her mouth and chin, and dribbling down her neck. But she paid it no heed as soon as the cool, crisp water touched her tongue; her body went on instinct and tried to take as much as it could. It was better than the most expensive champagne, more exquisite than the finest wine she’d ever supped, and she wanted it all.
‘Sip it, don’t guzzle,’ the voice said softly, pulling the glass back slightly so she couldn’t get to it. She swallowed the water in her mouth and mewed in displeasure, reaching blindly for the glass and sticking her now wet lip out in a pout. She needed that water; it was the only thing in the world that would make her head stop pounding, her throat stop feeling like it was made of sandpaper, and her stomach acting like it was on the high seas during the worst storm ever recorded.
‘Fuck,’ the voice breathed before the glass was shoved back at her mouth. It clipped her teeth, making her wince and groan. Her hand flew up between the glass and her face to rub at her lip and the voice swore again. ‘I’m sorry,’ it muttered, and Victoria once more tried to peel her eyes open to see her carer.
The light was bright, and her eyes wanted to fight against her, but slowly she forced them open and made them focus on the first thing she saw…
A divine-looking man sat at her side, his hip pressing against hers, a spot of warmth on the otherwise cold leather couch. She met his mossy-green eyes that crinkled in the corners as his lips turned upwards into a tentative smile.
She tried to think if she’d seen him before; Marcus said that kidnappers were likely to have run into their mark at some point as they tried to establish their target’s routine. Some would even converse with their prey, try to get to know them to make any attempt easier.
She didn’t recall seeing this man any time recently. She was certain she’d remember those eyes, the fullness of his mouth, the way his freckles dusted his nose…
Freckles. She stared at them. She almost reached out to try and touch them, to count them as her mind began to drift lazily back towards the fog rather than focusing on the matter at hand.
Slowly, Victoria turned her head, keeping her eyes on him for a moment longer before she finally took in where she was. She raised a well-maintained brow at the state of the place. Whatever the room was supposed to be, it looked more like a junk yard-cum-building site than anything else. Everything, including the couch she’d been deposited on, seemed to be covered in a layer of dirt, grime, or grease.
Oh, God, she was lying on it!
She didn’t think of the consequences, didn’t consider that if she tried to get off the couch they may tie her up, handcuff her to the radiator so she had to sit on the floor—she swore those were mice droppings down by the pipes—or even lock her away in a dark cupboard somewhere, but she had to get off that filthy thing right now!
Her captor stood with her and held out a hand to help her up, but without thinking, she batted it away. She paused in her scramble to get up, fearing a smack for her action, but the man merely sighed and nothing more. No ranting, no screaming, no threats to do something to her. He simply put the glass of water he was still holding on the tiny table in front of them before standing nearby, ready to catch her when she started to sway.
Okay, perhaps she should have accepted his help. She reached out with one hand, and the man instantly offered his arm to steady her.
Where was she? Why was she here? And what the bloody hell had happened for her to feel like she’d been hit by a car?
Crap, had she been hit by a car? Was that how they’d got her here? Why couldn’t she remember anything? And why was her captor shirtless, covered in what looked like baby oil, and wearing trousers so tight she wondered if they’d been painted on? The tiny, pointless cuffs at each wrist made her frown deepen. What the hell was going on?
‘What… happened?’ she finally croaked as she looked up at the stranger—damn, he was tall. Usually, at her height, she didn’t need to tilt her head back to look at a guy. However, this one could probably throw her over his shoulder and haul her off somewhere without effort at all. Had he carried her here?
‘You don’t remember anything?’ the stranger asked.
‘You’ve kidnapped me.’ She narrowed her eyes at him in challenge. This wasn’t the first kidnapping attempt made against her, and sadly she knew it wouldn’t be the last, but it was certainly the most successful. No one had ever actually got away with her before.
However, that didn’t mean she was going to be an easy captive; she’d make them rue the day they took her.
‘You won’t get anything from King Richard if that’s your aim. No money, no bargaining—no negotiations what-so-ever.’ The man frowned, his smooth brow furrowing, his nose wrinkling ever so slightly, making those hypnotic freckles dance. ‘And my father’s money is tied up,’ she continued. ‘The company is off limits too, embroiled in so much red tape until the will is settled that it would be a nightmare to try and get anything from it. You really picked the wrong time to take me.’
He licked his lips and made to speak, but a noise behind him caught her attention. Victoria peered around his muscular frame and caught sight of a tiny, slim woman with blue-purple hair cut into a pixie style leaning against the door jamb. Her face was decorated in lavish make up and she had a variety of piercings. While Victoria knew she couldn’t overpower the man—although her stiletto heel driven into his foot would work nicely at slowing him down—the woman’s facial decorations would give Victoria an easy way to inflict pain.
But first, she needed to know if there were others around and where they were. How many were there? Were they all together or spread out? What building was she in? How many floors up, or was she below ground? How—
She grimaced; her head hurt too much to continue, but one thing she did know was that if she managed to get out of this alive, she was going to get on the phone to Mr Daven the first chance she got and demand she and her sisters have their security reinstated. Surely, her father wouldn’t have wanted this to happen?
‘We haven’t kidnapped you,’ the man said, recapturing her attention. ‘I found you outside. Don’t you remember anything about this evening?’
‘You found me?’ she scoffed. ‘Was I lost?’ She took a small step back as she spoke, resting her weight on her back foot, ready to drive the other into his, heel first. Once she was past the blue-haired imp, the shoes would have to come off and be used as hand weapons instead—a stiletto to the throat was almost as good as a knife.
‘You were out cold—’
‘Cormac saved you!’ the woman interjected from her guard post. ‘If he hadn’t—’
‘Thanks, Geri,’ the man said, keeping his eyes fixed on Victoria. While she knew he was only doing so to ensure she didn’t try anything, she found herself unable to look away, mesmerised by the tiny little flecks of gold hidden within their green depths. The gold shimmered and-
‘I was on a date,’ she blurted out as the image of a restaurant came rushing out of the fog. She’d been at a table, watching someone pouring wine into a glass. But why did she remember that?
The wine had gold leaf in it. She’d thought it pretentious. Very new money.
‘That was a date?’ the man—Cormac—asked.
‘Alexi, set me up,’ she replied quietly, not really considering her words as she focused on trying to force her brain to remember more.
‘Alexi needs better taste in men,’ Cormac told her with a shake of his head. ‘It was a good job my car alarm went off—’
‘Yes!’ she squealed with a clap of her hands; the sound of blaring bounced around her memory. ‘I set it off.’ But she couldn’t remember how she’d done it or how she’d got from the restaurant to said car. Her mind was filled with blank patches, not even shadowy or fuzzy images floated around. There was just… nothing.
‘Do you know who the guy was?’ Pixie-lady—no, Geri—asked.
‘Ian.’ Victoria tried the name, but it didn’t feel quite right on her tongue, as if it was incomplete. She shook her head, trying to pull the memory of saying the man’s name. It had begun with an… S! Sam, Scott…
No, she had to go further back, before the date, before she’d lost parts of her mind.
‘He’s not my cup of tea,’ Alexi had told her, which in Alexi-speak translated to fat, boring, and bald. ‘But you can’t afford to be picky. Simon’s harmless—even has his own money to boot. It is new, but it means-’
‘Simon.’ Victoria breathed the name. ‘His name was Simon.’
The clatter of footsteps rushing up a staircase distracted the imp. She turned to whatever was beyond the door of the crappy room.
‘Lady Snape? Victoria?’ A deep voice, one she was very familiar with called up the stairs. It held a hint of worry and panic under its otherwise smooth timbre. Most wouldn’t notice, wouldn’t hear anything but calm confidence, but she could pick it out a mile away.
It snapped her out of the spell the man in front of her was trying to put her under with his damn bewitching eyes. Damn, this guy was good. He’d almost had her there—did he use that eye trick on all his victims?
Cormac glanced back towards the doorway and while his attention was diverted, Victoria took the opportunity to make a getaway. She cursed herself for changing her stance, but she could work with it. She kicked him just below the knee, making him cry out in pain, bending forward to grab at the injury, giving her a chance to drive her elbow into his solar plexus. He grunted as the air was knocked from his lungs and he dropped to the floor on his hands and knees, gasping for breath. He wouldn’t be there for long; she wasn’t strong enough to really wind a man of his stature, but it would give her the time she needed to get to Marcus.
She screamed like a banshee as she deftly ran at her next target, hands up ready to make use of the rings and studs that decorated Geri’s face. Her war-cry drowned out the other girl’s squeal of surprise and horror at the oncoming attack, forcing Geri to back up until she hit the wall across the corridor. The woman squeezed her eyes shut, her whole face scrunching up and turning away in preparation for a smack, and Victoria wanted to laugh at the thought as she charged forward.
But before she could show the woman what she actually intended to do, someone grabbed Victoria’s hands, spinning her around by her arm and into their body, wrapping her in their arms and stopping her from hurting him or anyone else.
‘Lady Victoria, please,’ the warm familiar voice rumbled in her ear. ‘Calm yourself. You did good. I’m so proud of you, so bloody proud of you, Tori. You have no idea, baby girl, no idea how proud. But these aren’t the ones at fault. You don’t need to hurt them. God, you did so well…’
It took a few minutes, a few more whispered words of comfort, of praise, reminding her over and over that she was safe now, safe and with him again, before she felt herself melting into Marcus’ warm embrace.
‘Marcus,’ she cried as she buried herself in the arms of the one man she knew would keep her safe: the Head of the Royal Guard, her grandfather’s personal protection force. She threw her arms around his neck as she confessed, her voice small, ‘Marcus, I don’t know where I am…’
‘It’s okay, you’re safe. You’re safe.’ Marcus repeated the words over and over until she believed him. She sagged against his body as the fight ran out of her. The feel of his hands gently rubbing her back in comfort was warm and familiar. His voice held a warmth she hadn’t heard in a long time, and she instinctively nuzzled into his neck, breathing in the familiar scent of her ex-lover. The man to whom she had given her heart… before he had broken it and tossed it away.
‘Victoria,’ Marcus murmured in her ear, making her tremble and shiver. It had been so long since they’d really spoken, since they’d been this close to one another, and Victoria didn’t want to let go. If she held on, this could be real, and they could be them again, a couple, two people in-
‘You need to let me go. For propriety’s sake, Tori.’
Propriety. The very same word he’d used four years ago when he’d said goodbye, leaving her broken, empty, and confused. When she’d sealed up her heart and vowed to never again open it to anyone.
She unwound her arms from his neck and took one final deep breath, taking his scent with her as she stepped back and looked up. He still looked as handsome as he had back then, when he was swiftly climbing the ranks of the Guard, and just seeing him so close made her breath hitch and her heart long for what it had lost. She wanted to reach out, to run her hand down his cheek, feel his smooth ebony skin under her ivory fingers before he pulled her against him and captured her mouth in his sweet, gentle kiss.
Victoria shook her head of the thought, reminding herself of what he’d done, of how much he’d hurt her. How he’d dashed her hopes and killed her dreams. How he’d never given her a real explanation of ending their engagement so quickly, leaving her confused, helpless, and utterly alone.
‘What are you doing here?’ she asked, taking a step back from him. ‘Did my grandfather send you…’
She trailed off as she gazed around the tatty corridor; the paint on the walls was peeling, broken lights flickered along the ceiling, and the rusting, industrial metal stairs that led to who-knew-where didn’t exactly scream safety. Yet Marcus didn’t appear to be in a hurry to arrest anyone.
‘Will someone please tell me where the hell I am and what I’m doing here!’ she snapped. She turned to face the man who’d supposedly taken care of her, although why he’d needed to—shirtless, no less!—was still lost on her. ‘And, why are you half dressed?’
The stranger stopped rubbing his shin to gaze down at his own naked torso before raising his eyes back to hers. He shrugged and said, ‘You’re at Monty’s.’
Victoria sniffed, crossing her arms over her chest before she said, ‘Never heard of it.’
‘It’s an all-male strip club,’ Geri supplied. ‘We’ve only just reopened under a new name. We used to be-’
‘You’re a stripper?’ Victoria asked, interrupting the woman. Her eyes travelled over Cormac’s form, finally able to appreciate his near nakedness. His torso was well-defined, his shoulders broad, his arms thick, but not overly so, and his pectorals had good definition… Hattie would call his well-toned abdomen something ridiculous… A six-pack?
If she wasn’t in the situation she was in, she’d have taken a moment—probably several—to appreciate the man’s perfect form and extremely handsome face, but her mind was still cloudy. She had most definitely not been here for her date.
‘We weren’t here…’ she told them as she tried to fill in the blanks. ‘How did I get here?’ She was being a bossy little madam, but she didn’t care. She’d woken up in a strange place, had massive gaps in her memory, and was more frightened than she’d ever been in her life. Not that she was going to confess that titbit, but she had a feeling it was showing when Cormac’s face softened.
‘I brought you in here after I chased that guy away, but how you got to the club’s car park, I’ve no idea.’ He shrugged and dipped his head, tucking his chin towards his chest as he mumbled his next words. ‘I’m glad you did though; if you’d gone anywhere else…’ Victoria saw a hint of colour tinge his cheeks as he stared intently at the floor, scuffing it with his feet.
‘I—I think he drugged the wine,’ she finally said, slowly and reluctantly taking her eyes away from her rescuer. ‘I know I only had one glass; I remember refusing another of the stupid stuff. And I skipped dessert completely.’
‘That’s not like you with your sweet tooth,’ Marcus said quietly.
‘He was creepy.’ Her words were short and crisp as she turned back to her ex, frowning. ‘I remember I didn’t like him from the moment I met him. Brash, loud, flashy…’
‘Tell me who he is, Victoria,’ Marcus said, his voice soft and his eyes filled with warmth and concern. ‘Give me his name, and I’ll handle him. Personally.’
She narrowed her eyes at the Guard, reminding herself that he was the one who’d walked away from her. In the last four years, they’d seen each other only during royal events she’d been forced to attend. They’d never spoken more than what was courteous, what was appropriate for a Lady and a Guardsman—even if he was head of the force. It had been so painful to even see the uniform the guardsmen wore, she’d declined royal protection outside of official events and had used her father’s security team instead. She’d been too proud to call the royal security service up after the funeral and ask for protection when she couldn’t use her father’s men any longer.
