Jerk.
“Where are you taking me?” I asked, trying to keep up with his pace.
“Somewhere.”
“That’s vague.”
“That’s all you get.”
“Why? Because I’m your prisoner?”
“Last time I checked, prisoners don’t wear designer clothes or thousand-dollar earrings.” He pushed the door open and stepped out into the cool evening.
A thousand dollars for earrings? Jeez.
I followed behind him, descending the long steps at the entrance. “If you’re not going to tell me where you’re taking me, at least tell me who you are. Gimme a name.”
His polished shoes scuffed against the pavement as he walked toward the convoy waiting by the fountain at the center of the courtyard.
“Knowing my name doesn’t change anything.”
My face twisted into a faint scowl. “Has anyone ever told you you suck at holding a conversation?”
One of his men opened the backseat door of a black SUV.
He paused, glancing back at me. “Has anyone ever told you you talk too much?”
I stared at him in silence, surrounded by armed men in black.
“Get in.” He unbuttoned his coat and slid into the backseat.
Another man in black held the other door open, waiting for me to hop in.
After a moment of hesitation, I did.
Once I settled in beside him, he signaled his driver to start the engine. Soon, the convoy pulled out of the courtyard in single file.
I sat near the window, my head pressed against the glass as I observed the vast expanse of land unfolding outside.
There was a helipad in the distance, sitting like a coin in the soil. A manicured garden with trimmed hedgerows dominated one side of the courtyard. And a serpentine driveway lined with towering trees on both sides slithered toward the gates.
The drive was quiet, and that was because the man beside me was in no mood for conversation. At least that’s the attitude he gave off. I had a lot of questions that needed answering, but obviously, now wasn’t the time to bring them up.
I watched the city blur past outside my window: skyscrapers, flashy billboards, neon lights, and pedestrians on the sidewalks. Deep down, I was tempted to wind down and scream for help.
But that would be stupid, and I’d only end up making things worse for myself.
About thirty minutes later, the convoy pulled into a large compound filled with exotic cars. Our driver pulled over in front of the magnificent building looming before us and shut off the engine.
That’s when my jailer turned to me, that neutral expression perched on his face. “Do not embarrass me in there,” he said gently. “Stay close and don’t do anything stupid.”
I frowned. “Like what? Try to run away?”
He looked me straight in the eye. “You’re notthatstupid.”
My scowl deepened as I watched him get out of the vehicle.
What a jerk! Who the hell does he think he is?
