But I really need to get out of here. It doesn’t matter how good he looks, this man’s my kidnapper for crying out loud. It’s so wrong to even have these thoughts. So taking a deep breath, I decide to talk my way out of this situation. You can do it, Anna, the voice in my head says. You can do it. You’re a smart girl.
Tentatively, I begin.
“Listen, I don’t know what you want, but please set me free. Whoever you’re looking for, I can assure you I’m not the one. Please just let me go.”
I didn’t mean to sound like I was begging, it just came out that way. But desperation is dictating every action at this point.
Wringing my hands, I stutter through my next proposal. “I-if y-yo-you want, I can help you find the right girl.”
Did I really just say that?
Desperation, remember?
It makes you do crazy things.
The hulking man barks at me, “Shut. The. Fuck. Up.”
But I won’t be deterred. At least not yet.
“Please don’t hurt me. Just tell me what you want.”
Clearly aggravated by my persistence, the dark man turns in my direction. Those glacial blue eyes glower at me, a shiver running down my spine.
“Stop acting like you don’t fucking know what this is about. You’re getting exactly what you damn well deserve.”
I can tell from the tone of his voice that he truly believes that.
Totally confused, I blink before shaking my head. “I swear I don’t know what’s going on. Please just tell me.”
Enraged, the man closes in on me and I take an impulsive step back.
”You fucking know!” he roars at me angrily, a muscle ticking in that hard jaw line. “You fucking know,” he snarls again, big fists gripping the counter.
He looks like he’s ready to blow a gasket any second now.
When I continue to stare at him, he finally decides to shed some more light on the situation.
“You’re the fucking whore who seduced my younger brother Chance last night.”
Chance? Who’s that? I don’t know anyone named Chance, and I blink back at him, puzzled.
Then a lightbulb flickers somewhere in the distance and my conversation with Ann-Marie comes rushing back. That’s right, my sister’s new fiancé is named Chance. The rich one she knows nothing about.
This is his brother?
What in the world?
But if Chance looks anything like the man in front of me, it’s no wonder why Ann-Marie was giddy and tripping over herself this morning.
This man may be enraged at the moment, but I still have functioning eyes. And he’s gorgeous as sin, that body and face making me heat inside. But he’s fucking furious, and rages again.
“You think you’re so hot?” he sneers. “Guess again. I’ll be damned if I let a fucking gold digger marry my brother. You’re after his money, just fucking admit it.”
Dumbstruck, I stare at him, amazed. This is all starting to make sense. But it doesn’t change the fact that he’s after the wrong woman. Because it’s Ann-Marie that he wants, not me.
Laughter bubbles up inside of me, a crazy, witchy sound, and I feel relieved, a load rising from my shoulders. Gleeful shrieks erupt from my throat and my shoulders shake with the action.
This is all just a misunderstanding. He has the wrong girl and I tell him that in plain English.
“You have the wrong person,” I giggle him, bent over in two, gasping for air. “That woman you described is my little sister, Ann-Marie. Not me.”
But he doesn’t look amused at all. Those blue eyes burn holes into my face.
“Chance came home this morning, filled with fucking rainbows and light, claiming that he fell in love with a beautiful redhead. He said her name was Anna. You’re Anna,” he states and his tone is matter-of-fact.
He still doesn’t get it. This is all one huge mistake.
Shaking my head, I try to make him understand.
“No, that’s my sister, Ann-Marie. Not Anna. My sister has red hair, too. We’re both redheads,” I babble.
And the words start rushing out then.
“Besides, my sister is the gorgeous one, not me. I wasn’t at any party last night. I was on my sofa reading a book.” My words are reassuring as I look at him, hoping to see understanding in the icy depths of his gaze.
But it never happens. If anything, the dark man looks even more enraged after my explanation. He’s not buying what I’m selling, I can read it all over his face. That hard-set jaw and those narrowed eyes don’t believe a word I’m saying.
Instead my kidnapper growls.
“Shut the fuck up. That’s a crock of shit. Don’t insult my intelligence. I have the right girl.”
What in the world? No, can’t he see? The woman who’d entrance a man, make him propose after one night, is Ann-Marie, not me! I’m a plain Jane compared with my sister’s peacock feathers, this guy has the wrong girl.