Despite the fact that I’d been snatched away in my lingerie, I wasn’t afraid for my virtue as far as he was concerned. He’d barely aimed more than a passing glance at my exposed, heaving chest. It was the man behind him who made my skin crawl. The one who’d emerged in my room just minutes before I was due to walk down the aisle. The one who sported an ugly gash across his cheek thanks to the broken champagne glass I’d slashed him with. The one they called Raoul.
“Let me tame her, ‘Nolo,” Raoul Gutierrez muttered, licking his lips as he ran his eyes over the pristine white lace that covered my breasts and crotch. White suspenders and stockings completed the outfit. I’d planned to surprise Prince with the beautiful matching set on our wedding night. Now here I was, wishing I’d been wearing something more conservative when they had burst into my hotel suite.
I’d thought it was Renée returning and had barely looked up from where I’d been dressing when the door opened. Until I’d seen the man uncurling himself from the bulging linen basket of the hotel housekeeping trolley. The woman pushing it had smiled cruelly as I’d gaped at her in horror. Then the man pounced, and I’d spun and slashed at him with my glass. I’d heard him muffle a scream as the sharp shard sliced the flesh of his face, but it hadn’t slowed him – he’d been on me in an instant. Whatever they’d put over my mouth had sucked the consciousness from me in seconds, but not before I’d had the satisfaction of seeing blood streaming down his face.
When I’d woken in this room, realization had rapidly sunk in. Razortip had come for me and was going to extort more cash from Prince in exchange for my life. It wasn’t enough that we’d sent $20 million to him barely weeks before to save my brother Emilio. Nothing was sacred to this animal. And he’d clearly decided that my new family was a bottomless source of income.
“Get away from me,” I hissed as Raoul drew closer, running a fingertip down my cheek in much the same place as the gash I’d left on his face. Unlike Razortip, who seemed surprisingly clean-scented, this man’s stench made my stomach churn. Sweat mingled with too much cologne and a breath tainted by lust and booze. I couldn’t tell what time it was, but already this man had been drinking. I tried to turn my head away, but he gripped my chin and held it almost painfully.
He chuckled and put pressure on my skin. “Ah, pretty, you make threats you can’t follow up on,” he said. “Perhaps this face would be more interesting if you had a scar to match the one you gave me.” I felt his nail scrape my cheekbone.
“Raoul, leave the girl,” Razortip snapped. It seemed to me that there was a family connection since the younger man deferred to my captor, but not with the fear displayed by the others I’d seen since I’d awoken. I heaved a sigh as Raoul stepped away, though his features had set in angry lines.
“Let me spend just a little time alone with her, Uncle,” he ground out. His eyes continued to rove over me. “We only have to send her back alive – nobody said she’d be untouched.”
Razortip slapped the back of Raoul’s head abruptly, as if chastising a disobedient child. “I said leave the girl!” he barked.
Raoul’s expression grew dark and dangerous, but he put distance between us. I sighed with relief, though I suspected it might be a short-lived reprieve. I eyed Manolo warily, and he returned the gesture dispassionately. I wasn’t fooled by his lack of malice. I was an asset, and he was merely keeping me out of harm’s way to avoid complications until Prince had done what he demanded. We’d already dealt with him during our negotiations for my brother – I knew the type of man I was dealing with. Hard, cruel, unyielding. A thug. But also a businessman who wouldn’t risk losing his winning hand.
It was something I reminded myself of now – he’d let Emilio go once we’d paid the ransom. There was a good chance that he’d do the same with me, as long as I did what I was told. And if Prince cooperated, too.
But would he? Would Prince do as Razortip asked? Cash was one thing, but half of his business? I felt dread unfurling.
Raoul’s eyes continued to travel over my curves in a way that made me feel ill. “Come, Uncle. Surely you must want to sample the wares? After all, why should such temptations be reserved for men like Prince Walker?” He sneered as he said the name. “So much privilege and wealth. Don’t you want to taste it too?”
I recoiled at his words, looking sharply from him to his uncle, whose face had grown sly.
“She’s a tasty morsel, I’ll admit,” Razortip said. “But she’s no more than a pussy and tits. And I have bigger plans. That man of hers… He has influence. He has resources.” He laughed cruelly. “Once he signs over managing shares in his new venture, I will control his business. And I will control his life.”
“No!” I gasped in horror. “I won’t let you do it. I won’t play along with you. You’ll have to kill me first.” The thought of turning Prince into this man’s pawn filled me with horror. I couldn’t be the reason he would be doomed to a life of slavery to this piece of shit. Razortip would make his life a misery.
“Oh no, my dear,” he gave an oily chuckle. “Why would I kill you when you are worth money to me?” I frowned at him in confusion. “If your boy doesn’t come to the party, there will be many, many men who will happily pay for the pleasure of sampling your wares.”
Understanding was dawning. No! I would rather die! “You…you can’t do that!” I stuttered. The man was evil incarnate.
“Ah, my sweet, you see now? If Prince Walker doesn’t sign his shares over, I will sell you to the highest bidder. And I assure you that this world is an interesting one. You will disappear. And you will never be found.”
Chapter 3
Prince Walker
“No. No! No!” I roared and slammed my fist onto the desk as Andy hovered on the other side cautiously. “There has to be something we can do,” I raged, half tempted to throw myself at him and pound his face again. My friend’s features reflected remorse. And sorrow. There was nothing he could do. I knew it as well as he did.
Our new Swiss business partners had left moments before, bemused by the new changes to the contract we’d suggested to them. As promised, Razortip’s attorney – a discreet-sounding man from a firm known for representing shady clients – had called barely an hour after we’d spoken. The terms were clear. We would sign over controlling interests to a proxy in a contract that would never disclose his identity. I’d spent a sleepless night mulling it over and waiting for the early morning meeting we’d set up with our partners.
Horst’s legal team had taken one look at the document and tossed it out. It hadn’t helped that we’d been compelled to maintain strict secrecy ourselves. When pressed for information, I’d been forced to remain silent.
“I am disappointed, Prince,” had been my new business partner’s final words as he’d ended the meeting and prepared to leave. “I had expected our venture to be conducted with more transparency.”
It had nearly killed me to say nothing, but I’d kept my lips sealed as he’d fixed me with a hard stare, and then turned and left the room. Perhaps he might have been more inclined to assist if he’d known what was at stake.
But that would have been like signing Sasha’s death warrant.
Nobody could ever know. We’d managed to keep a lid on the media coverage, though it had made my gut clench to spread the lies. “Prince’s Princess Gets Cold Feet” had been one headline, while another had announced, “Prince’s Royal Wedding on Hold.” Andy had handled the PR knowing that I’d have lost it if I’d spoken to those vultures. He’d shared the news that we’d made the decision to postpone the wedding due to personal issues. It would be his job to stop the hotel from leaking any more details of her abduction. That would have fucked us – nobody could know she’d been taken.
Of course, the gossip mill had gone wild in the past day. Everything from me having an affair to Sasha being caught out as a gold-digger. I didn’t care what they said as long as the truth didn’t get out. The truth that would put her in danger. But each cruel news article had buried a knife in my heart. We should have been on honeymoon now. We should have been celebrating our vows, our love. Instead, I was playing a waiting game with a psychopath. Praying for her life.
“Fucking Gutierrez! It’s like he deliberately wants us to fail,” I said hoarsely, sinking into the leather executive seat behind my desk. I dropped my head into my hands and ran my fingers raggedly through my hair, massaging my fingertips over my scalp. My head felt like it was ready to explode. I’d examined this situation from every possible angle. Nothing worked. There was no way out.
