When I tried to move my arms from over my head, I realized I’d been bound to a bed. Thankfully, I could feel my clothing against my skin, so there was that, but fear really ratcheted up.

  In an attempt to draw my knees to my chest, I yanked my feet up, only then knowing how dire my situation was. Not only were my arms bound above my head, but it appeared my feet were bound to the foot of the bed as well.

  Bitterness was a hard pill to swallow as I wished like hell I could wake up and start again. No, I’d let a pretty face draw me in as I bought Mr. Hot and Nerdy hook, line, and sinker. Though I couldn’t get out of the bed and could barely move my limbs without resistance from my binds, as my eyes adjusted, I could see that I was still clothed. The only thing missing were my shoes.

  I let my head fall back and closed my eyes, fighting back tears. There were things I could do. Scream for one. But I had a feeling I was in a room where sound wouldn’t travel. So, I decided to hold back and save my voice if I heard movement or any noise that would suggest someone could hear me. It was a calculated risk, but I’d seen too many thriller movies and was jaded by the fruitless attempts by the victim screaming.

  This wasn’t a rash kidnapping. My captor had known exactly what he was doing and had come prepared. I seriously doubted he left me in a room where noise could alert passersby.

  I ignored the ideas of what would happen to me. That would only bring despair. Instead, I tried to think back. I’d gotten into the van, scraping my knees on the metal floor. I’d only twisted around to sit on my backside to draw my legs fully in when he’d knocked me out with some drug.

  Though I felt a little groggy, I also didn’t feel sick to my stomach. The more I thought about it, bits and pieces came back to me. Whatever he’d given me hadn’t lasted long, at least I didn’t think so. Then again, without a window or light coming into the room, I couldn’t tell what time of day it was.

  But I had vague memories. When I’d been lifted into a pair of powerful arms. I’d opened my eyes long enough to glimpse lockers. That couldn’t be right. Was I in some sort of school?

  Agitation had me pulling at my binds. I glanced up at my right wrist. I couldn’t see the handcuffs in the gloom of the room, but I was more than certain that’s what he’d used to bind me.

  Irritation bubbled up inside me and I let out a guttural cry of grief and frustration. As if he’d been waiting on me to make such a noise, moments later the door opened.

  The faint yellow glow from the hall was more than I’d had and seemed to spotlight the man who’d stolen me.

  “You’re awake,” he said, sounding like every first movie line in a scene like this.

  “You’re a cliché,” I quipped before I could think better of it. But if he thought I was going to beg to be set free, he’d plucked the wrong girl from the street.

  “Does that make you the punchline, seeing as you’re the one bound?”

  “Free my hands and I’ll show you a punchline.”

  A dark, yet seductive chuckle escaped that sexy mouth of his. Too bad I wanted nothing more than to knock his teeth out, every perfect one of them.

  “You don’t disappoint. You are every bit of the fireball they say you are.”

  My frown was not for affect. I was truly at a loss for his meaning. “Who is they? I think you have the wrong person.” My social circle was way too small for a “they,” at least the way he’d spoken it.

  “I thought you hated cliches. You aren’t going to tell me you aren’t who I think you are, etc., etc.”

  “But what if I’m not and you fucked yourself by nabbing the wrong girl?”

  His head cocked to the side as mine was turned all the way to the right to see him. “You’re a smart woman. If I have the wrong person, as you say, what are my options?”

  Anyone who has watched the number of streaming movies and series as I had, knew that I’d seen his face. There was no way he was letting me go alive.

  “What do you want from me?” I asked with an edge of exasperation that bordered on hysteria. Keep it together, I told myself while I waited for his answer.

  I could have manically laughed, and I did when he gave his answer. “Your cooperation.”

  “Seriously,” I blurted. Then I yanked all of my limbs in response. “Like I really have a choice,” I bit out bitterly.

  “That’s for your protection,” he had the nerve to say.

  “Protection!” I yelled, passing the point of peaceful negotiation, if that’s what this was.

  “If you were free when you woke up, what would you have done? Banged on the door and bruised those pretty little hands of yours? We can’t have you damaging the merchandise.”

  This should have been the point I let loose a string of curses that would make even him blush. Instead, I clamped my mouth shut. I didn’t want to acknowledge what he’d just inferred. I was merchandise. This couldn’t be happening. People were not products to be sold.

  When I felt the burn of tears in the back of my eyes, I whipped my head around to face the other direction. He wouldn’t get the satisfaction of my grief.

  “Nothing to say?”

  “Fuck—you,” I said slowly, so there was no mistaking me as I hadn’t spoken loudly.

  “Interesting choice of words, considering what I just imparted.”

  I didn’t answer, but thought back to how I’d told Mr. Fisk that I wasn’t a whore. Had he orchestrated this to prove me wrong? There was no way. He couldn’t have anticipated my reaction. Surely there were plenty of women that would have taken him up on his offer.

  There was a soft click, leaving me back in darkness, and I assumed my captor left me to my thoughts, which I had plenty. But it was about that time my bladder made me aware of more urgent needs. I had to pee and couldn’t get out of the bed to do it. Worse, my pride kept a tight fist on my tongue. I would not call to the bastard and beg to be allowed to use the restroom. He could go fuck himself.

  Even my determination couldn’t overcome the pulsing call of nature after a while. I was just about to call out when the door opened.

  The glow of the hall light haloed him. But the man was no angel. He was the devil himself.

  “Do you need anything?” he asked while barely muzzling a smirk.

  “I need you to let me go, but I won’t hold my breath on that.”

  “You’ll thank me later.”

  “Don’t hold your breath,” I barked, and then questioned my sanity as I continued to antagonize my captor.

  “You’re good then?”

  I unclasped my hand enough to raise my middle finger. “No, I’m not good. I’m tied to a bed by a psychopath who thinks that I’ll ever believe he’s my savior, while I barely keep from peeing on myself.”

  One of his brows arched. “Has anyone ever told you you’ll catch more flies with honey than vinegar?” I narrowed my eyes and kept my mouth shut. “Lesson one. Be sweet and you’ll earn more privileges.”

  Who did this man think I was? Or was he grooming me for being sold, which he implied earlier?

  I glared at him. “What? Do you expect me to call you sir, too?”

  There went that dark chuckle of his. “Sir, no. But you can call me King.”

  The gall of the man and the stupidity of me. He was right. I shouldn’t let out my snarky side when I had no options. I swallowed my pride and asked, “Can I pee?” He gave me that look parents give when you haven’t asked nicely enough. So, I added, “Please.”

  The smirk faded from his expression. “I can’t trust you.” My jaw dropped. “You have two options.” He moved forward into the room, and I flinched when he reached the bed. He bent and I curled my hand together as if ready for a fight.

  When he stood up, he had a metal object in his hand. “I can slide this bedpan underneath you, or if you want to use the restroom, you’ll have to remove your clothes.”

  “Wouldn’t you like that?” I sneered.

  “I don’t have a preference. This is all on you. If I wanted you naked, I could have removed your clothes while you were unconscious. Besides, you aren’t the first or last woman I’ll see naked.” He was likely right about that. “Your choice.”

  Both options were humiliating. But only one made more sense survival-wise for many reasons. “I’ll get naked.”

  Maybe, just maybe, he’ll see I wasn’t the for-sale type when he saw that my body wasn’t what the expensive clothes made me appear to be.

  “Are you sure?’ he asked. Eyes like black coal peered at me in the dimness of the room.

  I nodded. “Next is a leap of faith. I will remove your bounds. You need to be a good girl or things will get ugly for the both of us.”

  There was no way I could attack until all my binding was removed. By then, he would no longer be off balance. He was bigger than me by far. He looked close to six feet, if not more, and I was a mere five feet five.

  I didn’t move as he cut the zip ties from my feet. Then he unlocked the cuffs from my wrists. Still, I didn’t move.

  He stepped back and put his arms behind his back to clasp his hands, or so I assumed.

  No words were exchanged as I slowly moved to sit up. It felt like thousands of fire ants crawled under my skin as circulation fully reached the tips of my fingers and toes. I held in most of a groan, but some came out.

  Not even a twitch from my captor’s lips to show any reaction to my pain. I hurled silent curses his way as I finally got to my feet. The next step took more fortitude than I thought I had. I reached up and around my back to the zipper.

  It wasn’t an easy reach. My fingers fumbled and shook, but I refused to ask for his help. When I finally released the zipper, I might have held there, but my bladder felt ready to release. I let the dress fall to the floor in a puddle of fabric, leaving me in only a bra and panties.

  There I stood in all my glory. Rounded hips, rounded belly, and breasts that weren’t as perky as they had been when I was a teenager. It was then I looked up and met his dead eyes. Once again, he showed no reaction. Definitely a psychopath, or was the correct term sociopath?

  His apathy only pissed me off, and without delay, I removed the rest. Cool air drifted over my skin like a breeze as he moved fast. He bent down like a man praying. I had no idea what he was doing until it was done. With a click, a fabric lined cuff was secured around my left ankle.

  With fluid movement, he stood and held a hand straight ahead, opposite the bed. “The bathroom is there.”

  Pride be damned. I ran as best I could, hoping he wasn’t playing a cruel joke and my tether would keep me from that door. But it didn’t, and it opened. On the other side was an ordinary bathroom with a sink, toilet, and tub. As I went to close the door, the chain attached to my ankle stopped that. At this point, modesty was irrelevant. I sat on the toilet seat and sighed as my bladder emptied.

  Relief couldn’t completely describe the feeling when I was done. I looked over and through the cracked door with no sign of my captor. Out of habit, I washed my hands before running for the other door. The one King had come through both times. My feet slapped against the floor softly, but my grip was hard on the knob. However unlikely it was, I had to try. As predicted, it didn’t turn. Then I broke. I beat at the door and only hurled curses, not begging to be set free.

  After a few minutes with no response, I turned, leaving my back against the door and slid to the floor with quiet sobs.

  A cursory glance around the room revealed that he’d taken everything. My clothes and even the bedsheets were gone. I had nothing in which to cover myself or to wrap myself in for comfort.

  The man was a monster, and I cursed myself again for falling for his charms. Then I cursed Mr. Fisk for being an asshole, which led me to being at the wrong place at the wrong time. Then I cursed again, knowing I would miss my interview with the elusive Mr. Connor King, my second job option.

  Even if I got out of this alive, I doubted I could convince him to give me a second chance at an interview if I missed it. What would I say? I missed the appointment because I’d been kidnapped. For the King family that valued their privacy according to all reports, the last thing they would want was an employee who might make headlines.

  I buried my face in my hands and let the tears out. I wanted all the sadness gone when the asshole returned. He would face my wrath no matter how that might condemn me.

  FOUR

  Time was meaningless in the darkened pit I was being held in. The only thing to mark time outside of my scattered thoughts was my body’s needs. This time, my stomach made its presence known with a growl.

  When was my last meal? I couldn’t remember if I’d had breakfast. I’d been so nervous about my interview; I think I barely touched it. Then lunch hadn’t happened, and I did not know if I’d be fed or not.

  I drew my legs up and wrapped my arms around them. Still perched against the door, I laid my head on the top of my knees. Things could be worse, and I was still alive. There was still a chance I could get through this. I ignored the ugly thoughts about what worse could be as I tried to think about anything else.

  When the door opened, I’d been dozing and caught off guard. My back hit the floor, and I had my first view of the hallway as I lay halfway in and halfway out. The corridor was dark. The single bulb above me didn’t illuminate far beyond the man that loomed over me.

  I didn’t think, and that would be my downfall. I acted using a move I’d seen on YouTube. I came up off the floor swinging and connected with that fleshy part between his legs. He bent down, and I ducked under his hulking form and took my first running step with my right leg.

  He caught my hair. Even if he hadn’t, my left leg was yanked to a stop as I tried to run. I remembered the leg restraint far too late. He spun me around and braced his arm around my chest. His big hand covered my left breast and squeezed. It wasn’t the playful possession during a love session when things got a little rough. It was the knee-buckling kind from pain.

  “Don’t like it much, do you?” His hot breath fanned my ear as he spoke.

  I whimpered from what he did as much from my failure. I’d wasted an opportunity of escape, having forgotten the major detail of the chain attached to my leg. It was likely he wouldn’t set me free of the thing anytime soon because I’d proven myself to be a flight risk.

  “I didn’t want to hurt you. But make no mistake, if you hurt me, I’ll hurt you back. Equal rights and all that.”

  Color me dumb, because I stomped on his foot, letting out my frustration. He laughed before his other hand caught my throat. Air became hard to find. When he pinched my nipple, I let out a choking gasp of whatever air remained in my lungs.

  “You don’t learn,” he said, releasing some of the pressure around my neck. I was able to take in a small breath. Then it was back, and his hand rubbed my sore nipple. “I’ll say this one more time. I don’t want to hurt you. Do what you’re told, and you’ll survive this.”

  He let me go with a little shove and said, “Sit on the bed.” It was a command, for sure.

  Every fiber in my being wanted to defy him, but lingering pain reminded me of the consequences. I sat and glared at him with all the hate I felt, hoping he’d feel it, too.

  “There are many ways to hurt someone without leaving a single mark.” His statement hit me like the lead weight it was.

  Every emotion I felt manifested. I fought it back but couldn’t stop my mouth from trembling and tears from leaking from my eyes.

  “You’re a bastard,” I whispered.

  “What was that?” he asked. But he’d heard me. “I’m your master.” He cocked his head to the side. “Which is why you will call me King. I am yours. Call me anything else, and there will be consequences.”

  I wanted to tell him it would be a cold day in hell before I called him my king or anything else. But I clamped my mouth shut. I didn’t doubt one minute he wouldn’t follow through with his threats.

  “I came to see if you were hungry. But maybe you need more time to learn how to be a good girl.”

  My stomach tightened at the thought of food. I was starving but refused to give in an inch. I wouldn’t openly defy him, not yet. But I could silently suffer before begging him for anything.

  “Fine, then. He left and closed the door. I slumped and only then remembered I was also still very much naked. I curled into a ball on the bed, longing for a blanket to cover me. Not that it was cold, but there was comfort and the illusion of safety if I had something to cover me.

  I thought there would be a long time before I had to face him and it felt like it. Hunger pangs consumed my every thought.

  The door opened and the smell of cinnamon wafted in. Everyone had their breaking point. He’d found mine. I was beyond starving.

  He didn’t come into the room. There was now a chair and a small foldable table in the hall against the wall opposite the door in plain view of the bed where I lay. He sat.

  Steam rose from the plate atop the table. I couldn’t make out exactly what was there as I was laser-focused on what smelled deliciously of cinnamon.

  He had the nerve to open a napkin and give it a little shake before placing it in his lap. Then he cut into something. “You want some?” he offered, holding out the fork as if ready to give me a bite.

  “Yes,” I croaked. In my heart, I thought I could be strong enough. But my mind warned that if I didn’t eat or drink, I would lose strength I needed in order to escape or the very least survive.

  His brow arched. “Yes, what?”

  All the manners my mother taught me rushed back. “Yes, please.”

  “Good touch. But I believe you're missing something.”

  My mind raced, and then it hit me. “Yes, my king.” So much for that cold day in hell.

  His smile made him even more impossibly handsome. “Come,” he said.

  Slowly, I uncurled myself and rolled to a sitting position before standing.

  “No,” he said, and I froze. “On your hands and knees. I warned there would be consequences.”

 

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