So this isn’t an ordinary house, despite what part of me wanted to believe.
It’s a controlled environment.Built to keep people out.Or keep them in.
Cautiously I nudge aside the blinds, just enough to peer out.
I’m not on the ground level.
That’s immediately obvious from the way the property sprawls beneath me instead of meeting my line of sight.A courtyard spreads out a great distance, with a glistening pool with a waterfall beyond it.
Strategic lighting illuminates palm trees, banana trees, oleanders, hibiscus, and broadleaf plants that appear to be carefully cultivated and tended.
I’m somewhere in the south.
Maybe I’m still in Dallas, but I doubt it.
It’s dark out, but I’m not sure how much time is unaccounted for.Hours at least?But an entire day is possible, I suppose.Clearly he planned the abduction, so he could have moved me to another state or even out of the country.
When that thought threatens to drown me, I shove it away.
Off to the side, movement grabs my attention.
There’s a man—a security guard?—staring up at me.
Quickly I drop the blinds.
Of course he’d have me and the house watched.
Around me, the room feels suddenly smaller, as if the walls have closed in.
I glance at the camera again and deliberately turn my face away from it, denying it whatever expression it’s hoping to capture.
Still unsteady, I force myself across the room to another open door.
I pause at the threshold of the massive ensuite bathroom, taking in the beautiful marble and glass.He has a shower big enough for four, and soaker tub that makes me want to sink in up to my neck and forget my problems.
When I flip on a light, my reflection stares back from the mirror above the double sinks.My hair is wild.My lips are bare of color.But my eyes are sharp despite the lingering haze.
The men’s shirt hangs loose on me.The sight of myself in his clothing sends a fresh wave of fury through me.
I turn on the cold tap, cup water in my palms then splash it on my face, letting droplets run down my neck and beneath the collar.
My mind is starting to clear, and more fragments float to the surface of my consciousness.
The man carried me.
I have the vaguest impression of weightlessness, of strong arms, and the steady beat of a heart beneath my cheek.
The sway of movement.A vehicle, maybe?Then being cradled as I was carried up the stairs.
Soft murmurs.And firm commands.
I recall the zipper of my dress slowly sliding down.Then the whisper of silk as the material floated down.
There’s the sensation of gentle hand movements.
I shake my head.None of this makes any sense.
The man who took me is a stone-cold bastard.
