“What are you doing?”
“Oh, Sloane,” he coos. “I guess neither of us is leaving this office until I get what I want.”
SEVEN
“Put the knife down, Ford,” I step back, until I hit the edge of the desk. My hands immediately grip the wood, my heart skipping a beat. Soren stalks toward me, pushing the chair out of the way, then comes to a stop right in front of me, looking down at me.
His hands come to each side of me, effectively trapping me in. His eyes bore into mine, and I couldn't put my finger on the expression he was giving me. It’s half pure rage and hatred, half something else I’m too scared to try and figure out.
The knife’s still tucked in his right hand, though I’m not brave enough to dare avert my eyes from his face. He has my full attention, which seems to be exactly what he wanted.
“Why? Are you scared, Sloane?”
His deep voice takes a taunting edge, his teeth showing when he grins. He leans in a little, and I stop breathing for a moment. He’s gotten too close for my liking, the scent of whiskey mixed with peppermint hits my nose. There’s something that’s uniquely him in the scent, just like an asshole would smell like. Alluring,overwhelming, and exceptional.
“I’m not scared, Ford,” I lie through gritted teeth, gripping the edge of the desk until my knuckles turn white. “But I don't find this funny at all.”
“You shouldn’t find it funny, because it isn’t,” he leans in a little more, bending to reach my eye level. If he gets any closer, our noses will be touching. “I’m very angry with you, Sloane. Can you take a guess as to why?”
“I wouldn’t know,” breath hitches in my throat when his eyes dip down to my lips. It’s only for a brief moment, but it manages to both stop my heart from working and skip a beat.
“You wouldn’t know,” he repeats, then a deep, bone-chilling chuckle slips his lips. Soren shakes his head lightly, then sighs. “What a shame. If you’d admitted to being the one leaking the tape, maybe I would’ve gone easier on you. But now? You’re going to get a taste of what you’ve done.”
“Ford,” I swallow a knot that forms in my throat, trying not to panic. The maniac has a damned knife in his hand, and I don’t know if it’s just an intimidation tactic or if he’s planning to use it. Either way, I don’t want to find out. “Put the knife away.”
“Nope,” he says, popping the ‘P’, grinning. “You’re going to be a good girl and turn around.”
“What?”
“Turn the fuck around, Sloane.”
My body freezes. He doesn’t yell — he doesn’t need to. The command in his voice is loud and clear, and the way the grin drops from his face tells me everything I need to know. Fear bubbles inside me, and with reluctance that I feel in my bones, I turn around, my back turned to him.
He grabs my left hand and spreads my fingers on the woodentable. He’s close to me, his chest almost touching my back. I feel his breathing down my neck, causing the smallest hairs to stand up straight, chills spreading through my body.
His left palm grips my wrist tightly, and I couldn’t move my hand if I wanted to. His other hand holds the knife by the handle, then he slowly starts dragging the tip of the blade across the table, until it lands right next to my spread-out fingers.
“Now, Sloane,” his voice drops an octave, “we’re going to play a game. I’m going to ask you a series of questions, and you’ll respond to them truthfully. Fail to do so, and well… find out.”
Slowly, Soren starts stabbing the spots between my fingers. The pace is slow, and he stabs the desk between each finger, with a lot of distance between the blade and my flesh. Fear paralyzes me, and I can’t think straight.
“You…” I croak out, unable to move. Soren grips my wrist tighter, just in case I try to move my hand, pressing his chest harder against my back. “You won’t cut my fingers off, will you?”
He chuckles. “I don’t know. We’ll see, won’t we? I won’t tolerate lies. Now, for the first question…” He trails off, but my eyes glued to the knife that still stabs the desk between my fingers slowly, the wood getting scratched and ruined. “Did you, or did you not, send the tape of me fucking Ms. Ellie to Sinners and Saints?”
“I did not,” breath hitches in my throat again, and Soren sees right through the lie.
He picks up the pace, though it’s still fairly slow. The blade is stabbing between each and every finger, going in circles. My body trembles as anxiety hits me, the fear of what will happen tonight almost swallowing me whole.
“That’s a lie, Sloane,” he drawls out. “But we’ll circle back to it. How did you get the tape is the more important question?”
“It wasn’t me,” I whisper, lips and voice trembling.
The hand that was holding my palm splayed out comes to my throat, and Soren squeezes tightly. I gasp for air, and I’m shocked that he’s allowing me to breathe. His other hand continues to terrorize me with the knife, and I swallow down a scream.
“I thought I told you no lies?” His lips are right next to my ear, his voice is a gravelly whisper that sends chills down my spine. “Where did you get the video, Sloane?”
Something in me snaps. I could try to fight him off and run away, but even if I manage to push him off me, Soren has a knife. One that’s threatening my fingers, and one that could very well be used to kill me. I’m not sure how insane this man truly is, and given the situation, I don’t want to find out. So, I close my eyes, snapping them shut.
