The huge, hulking man who enters is most definitelynotSaint. In fact, he's even bigger than Zane.
The white apron he's wearing is smeared with red, which I can only hope is food coloring, and which makes me think he must be the chef. It matches the red on the Christmas hat tugged down low over his forehead, which droops to one side, the white bobble at the end almost touching his right shoulder.
His eyes are dark and menacing.
“This is the ladies,” I blurt stupidly, as if he's unaware.
He doesn't speak and he doesn't stop moving. He closes the door firmly behind him and stalks right up to me. Slow and deliberate, getting all up in my personal space.
I take a step back, but he just follows. We repeat this process like some sort of deranged dance for a few more steps until my back hits the wall. My heart pounds wildly, and I’m almost dizzy with adrenaline. I know I should open my mouth and scream, but some crazy part of me is still trying to convince myself that this huge stranger is simply in the wrong place and doesn’t mean me any harm.
He leans forward and, with big, meaty fingers, pinches the material of my long red dress at the waist. It’s not as expensive as last night’s dress, but I still thought it was both sexy and classy when I picked it out. Plus the color matches the red of the bottom of the boots Saint bought me, and sets off my dark hair.
“This is a fancy dress you have on,” he says in a rich, accented voice that’s laced with gravel. “I think it would look better off you, though.”
I let out a squeak and try to recoil. This man clearly means me harm.
Think Vani, think. You need to act right now.
My brain kicks into gear, and my body follows. I dodge to the left, but he copies my movements, a grin spreading across his ugly features. I do the same movement to the right, hoping I can squeeze under or around him. He’s fast, though, for someone so big, and he slams his hands either side of me on the wall, bracketing me.
“Now, now, don't be like that. We've not had time to get to know one another yet.” He winks at me, and there's something horribly lewd about the action.
He moves one meaty hand from the wall and settles it on my hip. As he pushes his big body into me at the same time, something hard and massive presses against my stomach.
No. No. No. This can't be happening.
I think of my three men, still waiting for me at the dining table. How long have I been gone? Will they have noticed I’m taking too much time? I remember my comment about needing to pee and inwardly cringe. Maybe they’ll assume I’ve ending up with a UTI from all the sex and won’t want to embarrass me?
“Listen.” I attempt to speak firmly but calmly, and do my best to ignore the way my voice wobbles. “You don't want to do this. You have no idea who I'm with. The men who brought me here will skin you alive just for what you've done so far. You really need to consider if you want to go any further.”
His chuckle is deep and resonant in the space around us, echoing slightly against the tiles.
“Ah, you innocent little creature,” he says, almost jovially. “The entire reason I'm in here with you is because of the men you are with.”
“What do you mean?”
My heart is beating so hard and fast that I fear I might faint. I lick my lips and swallow, trying to concentrate on keeping myself calm enough not to pass out.
“They were warned not to come back to Paris.” He shakes his head as if he's dismayed. “But the fact is that, once more, the twins are here in France. It is so sad that they disobeyed their family and came. Why do you think they were sent away to America? They are collateral now in the war between families. Which meansyouare collateral.”
He leans ever closer and drags his thick, wet tongue all the way up my neck. I shudder in revulsion and try to push him off, but he doesn’t budge.
“Please don't,” I whisper.
Anger whips at me instantly. God, how pathetic I sound. Why did I say that? As if I can reason with someone like him.
“Oh, but why not? When this is going to be so muchfun.” He snaps his teeth at me.
His big hands grab the top of my dress and rips it right down the middle.
I cry out in shock as the now ruined dress hangs off my breasts and exposes my midriff. But thankfully not my panties.
“Wow.” He licks his lips and smacks them together luridly. “Look at those.”
I push against his chest, fight or flight kicking in. But he wraps his big hand around my throat and presses me against the wall, squeezing hard enough to make me gasp. Soon, even my gasp is cut off on a pained wheeze as he squeezes the air out of my windpipe.
“I could crush your throat in a second, pretty girl. Don't make me.”
