“If you don’t stop, I’ll find another way to keep your mouth busy.” I walk around behind her, giving the knot of the bandana a gentle tug. “Now, I’m going to untie this. I’ll put it back on if you piss me off.”
As soon as the bandana’s free from her lips, she gasps. “You’re an asshole.”
“And you’re forgetful. I’ve got cameras in here, Princess. I was wondering if you’d remember those bobby pins I left for you.”
Her fake laugh punches through the air. “Please, you didn’t leave them for me. You don’t want to admit that you forgot them. The genius kidnapper forgot something as simple as a fucking bobby pin.
“Two bobby pins,” I remind her. “Now, tell me where the second one is, and I’ll untie you.”
“And if I don’t?”
She shoots me a sly smirk that makes my cock twitch. I would have thought she’d be crying and cowering, but there’s a defiant streak in her that’s intriguing.
“I guess you’ll be stuck to the chair until I get what I want.”
“You didn’t think this through? What kind of stupid kidnapper are you?”
“I’m a professional, thank you very much.”
She rolls her eyes. “A professional fuck up? That I’d believe. A pro kidnapper? Please.”
That smart mouth of hers is endearing. She’s quick, I’ll give her that. She had a near-perfect GPA at Georgetown but works as a glorified secretary. That’s a puzzle I want to solve.
I shake my head at her. “Like you would know what a professional kidnapper looks like, Princess.”
She looks offended. Good.
“Hey, I’ve had someone try to kidnap me before.” She pauses like she’s not sure she wants to say anything else. “I was thirteen but managed to get away on my own.”
Thirteen? The idea of some sicko laying their hands on a thirteen-year-old—even one who grew up to be a mouthy, spoiled brat—sickens me.
“How’d you get away?” I ask, my curiosity overriding her inflated ego.
She scoffs at my question. “Why? So I can’t use the same tricks on you?”
“No.” I shake my head. “I want to know how a thirteen-year-old girl managed to escape a kidnapping.”
“I bit his ear, Mike Tyson style. Hey, I’ve got a secret for you. Come closer, and I’ll tell you.” She smirks.
A laugh bursts from my chest, shaking me so hard that my ribs ache.
“Who knew you’d have a sense of humor?”
“Like you know anything about me.” She raises an eyebrow at me and shifts in her chair, her breasts pushing tighter against the ropes.
Fuck me, I can see the dulled points of her nipples straining through that fancy lace bra she’s wearing.
“I’ve done my research, Princess. You’re President Fox’s daughter.”
She rolls her eyes. “Brilliant deduction, Sherlock.”
Thank fuck she can’t see my grin behind my mask. It would only encourage her to mouth off more.
“I know you studied at Georgetown. You work for Senator Furt, your dad’s whip. I know you have a puppy named Hawkeye. I know you don’t have any close friends, but you’re always attending brunches with girls from your old sorority. You never take pictures outside of staged social events. You have a book social media presence, but no one knows about it since you wear a wig, heavy makeup, and go by the name Maggie. Oh, and your Amazon Wishlist is full of more smut than Pornhub. Did I miss anything?”
That shut her right up.
“Now, either you tell me where the bobby pin is, or I keep you tied to this chair until I find it.”
