Chapter 1
FeargripsmeasOrlando dives into the water after me. I move my arms faster, trying to propel my body forward. But it’s no use, my heavy, waterlogged clothes drag me down, my flailing limbs unable to fight against the current.
With just a few powerful strokes of his arms he reaches me, it’s like I didn’t move an inch, and in this ridiculously tight leather skirt, I probably didn’t. His large arms snake around my body, and he pulls me toward him. “Are you trying to kill yourself?”
A desperate scream rips from my throat as I thrash wildly, fighting his frantic attempts to drag me back to the boat. I’m not going anywhere with this vile monster. He thinks I belong to him because of some disturbing marriage agreement our parents made. He’s the asshole who has been stalking me. I would rather die out here at sea, be eaten by a damn shark or drown to death, than get on that boat again with him.
“Stop fighting me, Ava,” his deep voice cuts through my panic, hostile but with an edge of concern.
“I’m not fucking Ava,” I splutter back, digging my nails into his biceps, doing everything I can to try and escape his tight grip around my body. I won’t let him take me back there, I can’t.
His arm grows impossibly tight around me. His nostrils flare as his dark eyes meet with mine so maliciously it chills me to the bone, because I know I’m fucked. There is no escaping this monster like this. He’s so much more powerful than I am.
One of the burly guys from the boat tosses a bright orange life preserver in our direction. Orlando clutches it tightly with his free arm, his other oversized arm crushing my body to his chest, knocking any air I had left out of my lungs. A cold helpless dread washes over me as they haul us in. Tears blur my eyes as I try to fight against him, but it’s no use with the rough grip of his hands, a reminder of how weak I am against him. Compared to me, he’s a giant, his body a mass of solid muscle, exuding strength and dominance I just don’t have, and he knows it.
I cough and splutter as we are pulled back on board, gasping for breath. Sickness washes over me, a combination of swallowing too much salt water mixed with panic. Orlando’s hand stays gripped tightly around my wrist as he sucks in ragged breaths, his deathly glare fixed on me.
As the boat roars to life, I’m forced closer to him, my body heavy and all fight gone. Its engine chugging, it pulls us even farther away from the docklands. From the boys and safety.
With a heavy chest, my heart beats slow and painful, thudding against my ribs like a trapped bird, each beat a struggle. Numb, I stare out at the fading shore as Orlando grips my drained body, dragging me down one side of the boat until we come to a rusty cabin. The door screams in protest as he pulls it open, before shoving me inside the well-lit box of a space. I fall to the floor, my limbs giving way. I gape up at him as he locks the little door tightly behind us.
Orlando’s face hardens, his dark eyes fixed in on me, his chest heaving with ragged breaths puffing from his mouth, as he struggles to catch his breath or contain his anger. “Fuck, I knew you would be difficult to manage, but I didn’t think you would be so reckless as to throw yourself off a boat in the middle of the night when you can’t swim. Do you have a death wish?” his furious voice booms off the inside walls of the cabin.
It makes me flinch and shrink back from him. My lungs burn as I peer up at him, my soaked hair covering my eyes like a curtain. “How do you know I can’t swim?” I spit back through clenched teeth, as much venom in my voice as his held.
His brow knits together. “That’s your question?” He shakes his head as he reaches for me again. His fingers grip my arms as he lifts me like I weigh nothing. His touch on me is tight but not unkind as he moves me across the room and forces me to take a seat in a free chair. With a length of rope, he secures my hands to the chair’s arms, the rough fibers digging into my skin as I fight against him. I know it’s no use, but I’m not letting him take me easily. Fuck that. I’ll die trying to escape rather than let this man get whatever he wants from me. When he’s done with my wrists, he repeats the process with my ankles, attaching them to the chair’s legs so I’m well and truly trapped.
“I didn’t want to have to do this, but you give me no choice.” When he’s done, he grins psychotically back at me, pleased when he sees how secure my bindings are. Dripping with water, he stands, observing me, his forehead still trickling blood, and I feel the slightest bit of pride that I was able to hurt him before he kills me. Hopefully it will leave a permanent scar on his forehead, a reminder of me.
As I glare daggers back at him, still trying to catch my breath, he turns to a basket in the corner of the room and gathers a blanket, returning to place it gently over my shoulders and lap. I flinch away from him, but with my limbs bound so tightly, thereis no use. He wraps it around me firmly, tucking it in, so I’m all wrapped up like a baby.
With my eyes filled with fire, I glare back at him for having the audacity to touch me, even if it was to do something so uncharacteristically kind as to try and warm me up when I’m clearly frozen to the bone. My teeth are chattering so loudly it echoes through the small space we’re now in. Why does he give a shit if I’m about to freeze to death? Isn’t he about to kill me and rip out my heart?
“Stop fighting me, treasure, you’re safe here with me. You just don’t know it yet,” he mutters in my direction as he tucks in the last part of the blanket. When he’s satisfied, he turns away from me, unlocking the little room and heading back out to the deck of the boat. He watches me through the window as he pulls out a key and locks me inside before he strides away.
I stare back, keeping my death glare firmly in place until he’s out of view. Then white-hot panic takes hold. My chest tightens, and the room spins around me. I’m so fucked. There is no way out of this room, and even if I could escape the bindings, I’m trapped on a boat in the middle of the ocean.
Gripping the chair arms with white-knuckle force, I try to suck in deep breaths as the rhythmic bobbing up and down of the boat pulls us further away from safety. Further away from Onyx, Reef, and Romeo. They were right, I was in more danger than I thought. I should have listened to them.
Nausea rolls through my stomach as the tiny room around me spins. Sweat drenches my palms and the rhythmic pounding of my heart whooshes through my ears, so loud the boat motor becomes muffled as if it’s further away. My shoulders can’t stand the weight of my head another second and it falls back, everything around me fading to black.
A loud creak startles me suddenly. The door of the cabin opens again, and Orlando’s face etched with worry comes into view.
Did I just pass out? I can hardly lift my head, but I manage to narrow my eyes and glare at him, trying desperately to act tougher than I feel right now. With sweat dripping down my spine and a head so full of clouds I can’t see straight.
An involuntary whimper leaves my lips as he approaches me again. Fuck, I need to keep it together, but I can’t when the man staring back at me is the same man who nine years ago wanted to hurt me so terribly. He’s been the ghost of my nightmares for so long, seeing him in the flesh has me frozen in the past.
He reaches toward me as I try to flinch away, but the back of his hand connects with my forehead softly, as if checking to see if I’m unwell. “You need to calm down and breathe,” he says in a low, peaceful voice. A voice I don’t expect from him and can’t understand.
I blink back at him, wondering if it was me who got hit on the head. Why the hell would he care if I freak the hell out and keep blacking out? Isn’t this what he wants, to scare the shit out of me?
“Breathe, treasure,” he says again, his hand still pressed to my head.
My breath hitches in my throat, each gasp shallow and ragged, a painful, strangled sound coming from my lungs. A fresh wave of goosebumps washes over me, his skin on mine chilling me to the bone. Why is he pretending to be kind? Is this what he does, toys with his victims before he murders them?
He doesn’t budge. He stays close to me, watching me, searching my face. Eventually, when he appears satisfied that I’m breathing to his liking, he takes a step back from me. “Better.” He nods. It’s then I notice he has changed out of his wet clothes and is now in a fresh black T-shirt and dark sweatpants that look out of place on him, the wrong size maybe, as if he has borrowed them from someone. He runs the towel that was resting on his shoulders through his long hair, beforehe discards it. With a grimace he pulls out a small battered first-aid kit, placing it on the counter. Looking in a portable mirror, he dabs his head injury with a cotton ball, before placing a large bandage over it, stopping the trickle of blood I created.
Cradling his head, he sucks in a deep labored breath before he turns back to me, giving me a look like he doesn’t know what the fuck to do with me. A cold dread grips me, my body stiffening in anticipation of what he’s going to do next. He leans into the wall, keeping his distance from me as his eyes meet slowly with mine. “I’m not going to hurt you, but you run from me again and I will make sure you regret it.” His voice is low and edged with a warning scarier than his words.
