“And if I don’t?” I say in a defying manner. “Are you going to kill me?”
“If I have to.” I shriek when he hoists me over his shoulder and carries me upstairs like I weighed nothing at all.
“Put me down, you brute!” I squirm, and he squeezes my thighs with his big hands. “What the hell do you think you’re doing! Do you have any idea who I am! Put me down this instant!” I cry as he sets me down and shoves me back into the bedroom I woke up in earlier. I stumble but catch myself before I fall and glare at him.
“Look, if it’s for money, I have money. I’ll give you whatever you want, please, Damien just let me go.” I plead, rubbing my upper arm where he had gripped me, a dull ache that was surely going to bruise later. Damien sighs, ignoring me, and walks to the other door on the other side of the room.
“That’s not an option. You don’t have anything I want, Ezra.” He responds bitingly, and I frown. “You have your own private bathroom through here; there are fresh towels in the closet and clean clothes in that drawer.” He points to the gray set of drawers in the corner of the room.
“Towels? I’m not interested in a tour of your goddamn house. Why am I here, Damien? If it’s not for the money, why are you holding me captive? Oh God, are you one of those creepy obsessive admirers?”
Damien rolls his eyes and even chuckles, clearly amused. “Do I look like a fucking admirer Ezra? Let’s not forget that you came with me of your own free will. I didn’t force you. And it was you who was gagging to be fucked. If I were an admirer, I would have taken what you were so clearly ready to offer me on a plate last night.”
I peer up at him and cross my arms over my chest, and cringe, suddenly feeling very self-conscious. “You’re keeping me here against my will now, though, aren’t you? Let me go now, or I swear I will make life hell for you till I escape, and I will.”
“Listen to me very carefully because I will not repeat myself,” Damien says, strolling toward me slowly, his eyes fixed on me like a hungry lion watching its prey.
Every step he took toward me, I retreated. “You have two options here. You can either sit and behave yourself, and the next few days can pass pleasantly, or you can continue acting like a brat, and I will be forced to lock you away in this room and restrain you. Don’t even bother trying to escape because there’s no one around for at least thirty miles, and by the time you get far enough even to find someone to help you, I will find you and make no mistake, Ezra—I will kill you.” I gulp and press myself against the wall.
“Do you understand me?” I nod, and it seems he was satisfied with my response. “Good. Now get cleaned up and come downstairs.” And with that, he walks out of the bedroom, closing the door behind him.
I release the breath I hadn’t even noticed I was holding. My knees were shaking uncontrollably. I slid to the floor, and with a whimper, I let the tears I had been holding back flow free. I was going to be killed; once he gets what he wants, whatever that may be, he’s going to kill me.
* * *
A short while later,the tears finally ebbed away. I push myself back up to my feet and walk over to the bathroom. There was a walk-in shower in this one, too, smaller than the master bathroom but spacious enough to fit two. I look at the mirror above the sink and stare at my reflection.
Mascara and eyeliner from the night before smudged around my eyes, lips still tinted red from my lipstick, and tear stains down my cheeks. My usual blue eyes, bloodshot, and bruises formed on my right arm from being gripped so tight. I lift my left hand and brush my fingers over them lightly. I was a mess, like a crack whore on a night without a fix. It’s no wonder he told me to clean up.
After a somewhat prolonged shower, I step out and look around for a towel. Where did he say they were? I look through the closets and find some on the top shelf. I wrap one around myself and walk out of the bathroom.
The room’s cold air makes me shiver, causing goosebumps to break out all over me as I move over to the chest of drawers. I slide the top one open and find a selection of underwear.
Bras and panties. I pick a black lace bra, check the size, and frown. It’s my size. I rummage through all the drawers and pull out various items, jeans, sweaters, blouses, all in my size. “How did he—” I jump, startled when the door suddenly swings open, and Damien walks in, fully dressed in a pair of black jeans and a tight black t-shirt. I squeak and take a couple of steps back, holding the towel tighter against my body. “What are you doing? Get out!”
Damien’s eyes narrow as he takes slow and steady steps toward me. “It’s my house. I can come and go as I see fit.”
“Doesn't mean you can just barge in—without knocking, might I add—whenever you want. There's such a thing as privacy, you imprudent brute, and even though you're keeping me imprisoned, you can respect that at the very least."
"Is that right?" Damien drawls, watching me with those molten silver eyes as he zeros in on me.
"Yes, that's right." I meet his gaze and keep my eyes there in a manner that I'm hoping tells him I'm not some delicate little damsel that he can push around. I'm Ezra Quintero, damn it! Even though everything about this man, his eyes, his lack of emotion, his entire demeanor scares me to my very core, I'll be damned if I show him that. "Though, I highly doubt you possess a damn conscience or are even capable of showing any form of emotion other than brutality."
His smile—neither kind nor genuine, but one that was ice cold and ruthless, makes me quake inwardly. I cry out when he grasps my upper arms and yanks me against him, bringing us so close our noses almost touch. "And what? You think you've got me sussed now, have you?" I wince as his fingers clamp down harder on my skin. "You think this is brutal? Considering the long list of things I could do to you, this is kind, believe me."
"Why are you keeping me here?" I ask, "What do you want from me?"
"This isn't about you. Not really." He tells me evenly, and I frown. "It's about your father." I sigh when he finally relaxes his hold on me a little, though he doesn't let go completely. My father? Of course.
"So, you abduct me to get a big payout from my father, is that it?" Damien looks over my face and smirks.
"Again, I didn't abduct you. I was supposed to, but you were so eager to sleep with me that you came willingly. Let's not forget that little detail, shall we?" He licks his lips and narrows his eyes as though he recalled something. "And I'm not the one getting the payout. I'm just the middleman who is being paid to babysit you."
The middleman? What the hell did that mean? Who was he working for? Had my father's adversaries hired him to kidnap me and extort money from him? "Who hired you? Who do you work for?"
Damien chuckles, "That's classified, sweetheart."
I exhale slowly, "Save me the secret agent bullshit, all right. Give it to me straight. Who are you?"