Page 6 of Chain Me
A hand at my elbow steers me toward a hallway. I commit every turn to memory, though I doubt I'll get a chance to use the information. These men don't make mistakes.
I try not to flinch as Erik emerges from the back room. Our eyes meet for a split second before I force myself to look away, but not before I notice how his stride falters. The memory of our encounter at the tech event burns fresh in my mind.
“Secure her,” Dmitri orders. I wonder why they are doing this themselves instead having their men handle me, but it’s most likely because they want to keep my kidnapping and location to a need to know basis.
Erik's hands are surprisingly gentle as he guides me to a chair. His fingers brush my shoulders as he secures my wrists, and I can't stop the shiver that runs through me at his touch. The contact feels electric and dangerous. I hold myself rigid, fighting the urge to lean into his warmth.
“Careful with the merchandise,” Nikolai's voice drips with amusement. “We need her intact for leverage.”
Erik steps back, but I can feel his gaze on me like a physical weight. It traces the line of my neck and follows the fall of my hair. The intensity of his attention makes my skin prickle.
“I'm not merchandise,” I snap, testing the restraints. They're secure but not cruel. “And if you think?—”
“Save your breath, princess.” Dmitri cuts me off with a wave of his hand. “You'll be our guest until your father learns to play nice.”
I notice Erik hasn't moved far, positioning himself where he can keep me in his sightline. His face remains impassive, but there's something in his eyes that makes my pulse quicken.
“Need anything else with the prisoner, Erik?” Alexi's voice holds a teasing note. “Maybe you'd like to personally handle her interrogation?”
Erik's jaw clenches. “Someone needs to keep watch.”
“I'm sure you'll keep a very close watch,” Nikolai says as they file out. “Especially on certain... assets.”
The door clicks shut behind them, leaving me alone with Erik. The silence stretches between us, thick with unspoken tension. I shift in my chair, testing the restraints again while watching him from beneath my lashes. His gaze hasn't left me since the others departed.
Heat crawls up my neck at the memory of his brothers' suggestive comments. I force myself to meet his eyes, channeling years of boardroom negotiations into my voice. “Your brothers seem to think there's something between us.”
Erik's expression doesn't change, but his shoulders tense. He moves closer, checking my restraints with clinical precision. His fingers brush my wrist, and electricity shoots through me at the contact.
“They talk too much,” he says.
I lean forward slightly, letting my hair fall across my shoulder. “And what do you think?”
His hands pause on the restraints. For a moment, I think I've miscalculated. Then his thumb traces a small circle on my inner wrist, so light I almost miss it.
“I think you're dangerous.” His words come out barely above a whisper.
“Me?” I arch an eyebrow, playing innocently while my heart races. “I'm the one tied to a chair.”
He steps back, but his eyes linger on where my blouse has slipped slightly off one shoulder. I resist the urge to squirm under his intense gaze. If I can just get him to lower his guard...
“You know exactly how dangerous you are.” His voice holds a note of accusation. “I've seen your work. Your mind is a weapon.”
The compliment catches me off guard. Most men fixate on my looks or my family name. Erik sees past both to what really matters—my capabilities.
I tilt my head, studying him. “Are you afraid of what I might do with it?”
His lips twitch. “I'm more concerned with what you're trying to do right now.”
Caught. But instead of anger, I see something like admiration in his eyes.
I shift in the chair, testing his reaction. “And what am I trying to do?”
Erik's jaw tightens, a muscle ticking beneath his skin. He takes another step back, widening the space between us. His eyes sweep over me, and I catch the way his gaze lingers on my lips, my neck, the curve of my shoulder.
“You're trying to manipulate me.” His voice comes out rough. “It won't work.”
“Maybe I just enjoy the conversation.” I arch my back, stretching my stiff muscles. His eyes track the movement before snapping back to my face. “You must get bored, standing guard.”
