Law enforcement? Maybe. Maybe not.
Hunter certainly didn’t act like he was an undercover detective. But there was something very odd about him.
Then who was he? Who would put themselves in that position other than some wealthy, sadistic freak? The house certainly was to be expected, a stunning representation of extreme affluence.
Although…
His reaction to his own house and furnishings seemed off.
I don’t think I’d ever been so confused. First, I’d thought he was just one of the entitled assholes. Then he shocked me by being almost… kind. Yes, there was no doubt he had a dominating personality, but he wasn’t nearly as brutal as what I’d seen and experienced.
Certainly not like the bastards in the prison ward.
At this point, I was cautiously hopeful I wasn’t in any immediate danger.
I moved toward the window, barely pulling the blinds away. I hadn’t paid any attention that his house was right on the ocean. Another confirmation of how rich he was. Why worry about the blinds? From what I could see, there were no close neighbors. The questions continued to pile up. The surprise lingered.
Not only because I had a very expensive glass of wine in my hand, but also because I was standing inside an absolutely gorgeous bedroom. Complete with a king-sized canopy bed fit for a queen, a sitting area with plush leather chairs in front of a massive window, and a double doored walk-in closet filled with clothing that was supposed to belong to me. Wait. What kind of sex slavery situation had I been sold into?
I brushed my fingertips across my cheek where he’d touched me, shuddering to my core. His touch had all but seared my skin, gentle in a way I found difficult to comprehend. But I couldn’t befooled by his kind demeanor, even if my instincts continued to tell me he wasn’t anything like the others.
That didn’t mean he wasn’t a bad guy simply disguised as something less abominable. Maybe he was creating desire so I wouldn’t fight him as much as any normal woman would.
The wine was still in my hand, my fingers numb from the pressure used in holding the glass. Slowly, I glanced at the deep crimson liquid as I thought about the weapon I’d seen. Nothing at this point made any sense. I took a sip, trying to catch my breath and my bearings. I’d done enough research before coming to Miami to know I was in one of the most affluent sections of the city.
A location where the richest people in the world lived. Including some notorious criminals, leaders of crime syndicates.
Hunter certainly had that look about him. Polished yet with a dangerous aura that indicated he wasn’t just a pretty boy, but a man who could hold his own.
The fact I remained attracted to him was a continual irritation. Even now, my mouth was dry from the lingering thoughts.
My hand was shaking as I brought the glass to my lips, but the taste was extraordinary. After another sip, my breathing finally slowed. As soon as I walked into the bathroom and flicked on the light, my reflection drew my attention.
The soft lights couldn’t hide the gauntness of my cheeks or the sadness in my eyes. The garish makeup was nothing but a costume, but even if my face was scrubbed clean, I would likely be unable to recognize myself.
Sighing, I returned to the closet, shivering not only from the lack of clothing but from what I was seeing. Maybe I’d expected nothing but corsets and leather skirts, thigh-high boots that I’d seen in glitzy social media posts. There was nothing inside the closet that resembled anything suggesting catering to the BDSM world.
Maybe I just didn’t know what I was talking about, but I doubted jeans, blouses, tee shirts, and simple dresses were the going attire.
So many strange thoughts and feelings were continually washing through me. As if I was standing outside my body looking in. I forced myself to grab a few items. The first thing I wanted to do was to tear the horrible dress off, ripping it into shreds.
Underwear.
I was not going to continue going without wearing any. With long strides, I yanked open three dresser drawers before finding what I wanted. Several sets of matching lacy bras and thongs. They were incredible, sensual in a classy way, yet the sight of them heightened my apprehension, a reminder that to men like Hunter, I was nothing but an object.
Was that true?
If it was, I’d fight with everything I had.
I’m trying, Briana. I swear to God I am.
My head ached, my heart crushed from both relief in knowing that she was alive while remaining uncertain she knew who I was. What terrified me more than anything was her lack of recognition as well as her inability to focus. I certainlyunderstood how women could be indoctrinated after a length of time and my sister had been missing for long enough.
You can do this. Get dressed. Go downstairs. Find a way of figuring out where you were.
Yes. That’s what I needed to do.
The rage fueling me, I rushed into the bathroom, kicking off the shoes with enough fury they were driven against the wall. The hard thud brought a smile, something I hadn’t managed in days. The dress was next, the seams ripping from the force used.
