From the little I’ve seen of this three-story estate, I know it's massive. The kind of place you walk into and instantly feel small and meaningless. Weightless compared to the elegance, details, and expanse only money can buy. For example, the room they kept me trapped in last night. Where I come from, that isn’t a guest room. Not when it’s nearly the size of my entire one-bedroom house and the en suite is as big as my kitchen with its white tiles and realistic-looking rock walk-in shower.
Sleep only found me for a few short hours last night. It's hard to doze off into a peaceful slumber when a brooding man lounges in the same room, arms crossed, observing your every move. Not to mention, my mind kept bombarding me with flashbacks of an unconscious man covered in blood as his life slowly drained from his eyes.
Carter would’ve rather been doing anything else than babysitting me, I could tell that much from his harsh voice. It wasn’t until I fully turned around that I got a good look at him. The recognition hit instantly. Just like Preston, he has a beautiful face and frame that’s hard to forget. Jet black hair that’s effortlessly styled and cropped short at the sides, complemented by tattoos that stretch over every bulge of muscle. Both he and Preston look like they were carved from stone. Hard, mouthwatering physiques that would feel glorious against your tongue and below your hands.
Carter was the one on the boat talking to the man I watched Preston murder. The only reason I know his name is from when Preston growled it last night, when he thought I was zoning out while they were discussing what to do with me, as if I were a petulant child.
After Preston stormed out, I considered starting a conversation with Carter to see if it would help disperse some of the tension and allow me to settle enough to fall asleep. The words never came.
I used the en suite bathroom, stripped down to the t-shirt and shorts I wear under my uniform, and lay on my side, facing away from where he was sitting. He dragged one of the accent chairs over to the door and settled into it like he had done something like this thousands of times. His unrelenting focus on my back the entire night had my skin buzzing with unease.
He sips his coffee in the seat across the table from mine, those brown eyes boring into my face as I ignore the beautiful breakfast spread a kind woman set in front of Carter and me.
For being a prisoner, it sure seems like the meal of a queen. A pile of French toast is stacked like a carb-loaded tower. There’s a bowl of strawberries, sunny-side-up eggs, grapes, and bacon crisped to perfection, all accompanied by orange juice and a carafe of coffee.
My stomach grumbles as I inhale the delicious aroma deeply, as if the scent alone will quench my hunger.
As if he can hear it, Carter lifts his mug to his lips. “Eat.”
What if they laced it with something and are trying to poison me? Carter hasn’t touched it yet, so why would I?
I don’t even know where the hell Preston is. I haven’t seen him since he stormed out of the guest room last night, leaving his friend to deal with me. At first, I thought they might be brothers, with similar strong, gorgeous features that made my heart race, but whereas Preston has a more angular jaw and lighter hair, Carter’s skin is a shade darker. His face is more heart-shaped with a shadow that makes your fingers want to dance over his jawline to feel the groomed stubble below your fingertips.
My eyes flit down to my spotless plate and back to him. It’s a non-negotiable command, but I ask anyway. “Is that a command or a suggestion?”
“Are you always this stubborn?”
“Asks one of the men who’s holding me hostage in a castle.”
He raises a brow. “It’s not a castle.”
Folding my arms and bracing them on the table, I lean over them. “Could’ve fooled me. All it's missing is a moat and some archers. But I have a feeling that’s not your style, since the men in the watchtowers are holding guns. If I were to gamble on mylife, I’d say there’s more going on here than just a little lobster and amusement park business.”
His mouth quirks, taking another sip. “And what is it that youthinkis going on here?”
I try to swallow the nervousness scratching my throat. “The Evisceration Cellar. You’re running an organ trafficking business for the black market.”
He chokes on his coffee, placing his mug on the table. He swipes his mouth with the back of his hand. Once he composes himself, he draws those handsome eyes, flickering with amusement, to mine. It’s not him who answers me.
“If that’s your perception of us, then the truth will make us look like saints.” Like my body is already in tune to his presence, that deep tenor floats across and lathers into my skin.
My gaze snaps to the doorway of the breakfast nook. Preston is leaning against the door with his hands shoved into his pockets. Unlike yesterday, there isn’t a speck of blood on him. A pair of gray sweats hangs low on his hips, a white t-shirt stretching across the hard planes of his body. Ink with patterns and script cascades down his arms and onto his hands. I was hungry a minute ago, but now I’m starving in a different way.
Now I know what it's like to be entranced by the devil.
“Will it?” I counter, doubtfully. I watched him stab a man and leave him to die.
Preston breaks the threshold, stalking into the room. “Depends.”
I reach for the bowl of strawberries, plopping one into my mouth to distract myself and appear more unaffected than I feel. For a brief second, I remember why I wasn’t eating. Well, shit. If it's poisoned, I’m screwed. Although I feel like using such a simple method to kill me isn’t his style.
I get the sense he finds violence entertaining. In using his hands…
My tongue darts out to lick the glaze of sweet juice off my lips, Preston’s eyes tracking the movement. “Enlighten me then, Captain. I’ve heard the rumors about the tunnels and those massacres that happened in the park.”
“Drawn to a little darkness, darling?” Preston and Carter are wearing matching arrogant smiles.
“What,” I blow out. “No.”
