I slapped my hand over my mouth.
What was the record for Stockholm syndrome? How long did that usually take to kick in?
I raised a placating hand. “This is getting out of control. There is no reason to take it any further. Just let me walk out of here.”
“I can’t,” he said with an infuriatingly casual shrug.
I stomped my foot as if I were a toddler having a tantrum over a piece of candy. “Why not?”
Greyson shrugged. “I have my reasons.”
“Well, what are they? What reasons could you possibly have for keeping me here?”
“My reasons are varied, and they are my own.”
“That’s not good enough.” I stomped my foot again, not caring that I was being childish.
“It will have to be.”
Knowing I was getting nowhere with him, I snatched an expensive-looking crystal vase off a nearby table. Dumping the flowers and water out onto the Persian carpet, I held it high. “I’ll break it,” I warned.
Greyson sat down on a nearby upholstered chair, close to the fire. Leaning back, he crossed his ankles out in front of him and rested his chin on his palm. “That would be a shame. I happen to like that vase…but if you must.”
With an outraged yell, I didn’t just drop the vase. I threw it through the nearby window. The thin glass shattered. The wind from the storm outside whipped the curtains into a frenzy as freezing rain poured into the room.
A small shard of glass caught in the thick curtain and was flung back at me by the wind. It scraped my cheek. I cried out and turned, holding my hand to my face. When I pulled my fingers away, they were covered in blood.
Greyson had already sprung from his seat when he saw me draw back my arm.
In two long strides, he was at my side, gripping my shoulders as he pulled me away from the window, shielding me with his back from more flying shards of glass and the icy wind that cut just as deep.
“You little fool,” he seethed.
He pulled me further into the room, slamming me against the wall on the other side of the fireplace mantle. His fingers drove into my hair on either side of my face as he tilted my head back to survey the wound.
I tried to pull free. “I’m sure it’s just a scratch.”
His grip tightened in my hair. “You could have been seriously injured. Never do something so stupid again.”
“What happened to ‘if you must?’”
“I gave you permission to break the vase, that was all. I did not tell you that you were allowed to injure yourself, you silly little girl.”
“You’re going to lecture me on doing something stupid?”
The heavy curtains flapped with the howling of the wind from outside.
Greyson’s stare was so intense I thought I would burst into flames despite the freezing chill in the room. “Something stupid, like rescuing a silly, interfering female who was going to get herself killed?”
“And who is supposed to be killing me? Jameson? You promised that Madison was safe with Pierce. Who’s going to kill me? Who should I be afraid of?”
Greyson slowly shook his head without breaking his stare. “No, not Jameson, not Pierce—me.”
The blood drained from my body.
I opened my mouth to scream, desperately hoping someone, anyone, would hear me.
I never got a chance.
