I heave out a labored breath, trying to control myself. “Let me go. I’m not staying here with you,” I demand, my voice a chilling whisper, like ice. He needs to know how much trouble he’s in the longer he keeps me here.
His face grows more serious, and he moves to sit on the end of my bed, a little too comfortable in my presence for my liking. “If I let you go back to Ravens Hollow, you will be dead within the day.”
His grave expression makes me believe him. But it’s him who was after me. I’m in more trouble here, aren’t I? “They will come for you. Romeo, Reef, Onyx and my brothers, will find me, and when they do, you will pay for ever thinking you could get away with taking me,” I snip back, making sure he knows his days on this planet are numbered. I know right now the boys are out there someplace looking for me. They have to be.
“I hope they do. It’s been a long time since I’ve seen my brother. We have a lot of catching up to do.” His hand lands on the comforter. “Time to get up,” he says as he tugs it back, leaving me in just the satin night dress I had on to sleep in.
I try to cover myself up, but it’s no use, his thirsty eyes eat up every inch of me. “Who changed me?” I insist, a sick feeling coming over me when I picture him undressing me while I was unconscious.
“Treasure, you passed out in the shower in soaking-wet clothes. Someone had to take care of you.”
I glare back at him for having the audacity. “That’s your job?”
“It is now.” His eyes meet with mine, staring right into the depths of my soul in a way that should send a shiver down my spine, but it doesn’t. His gaze is warm and comforting. “For the last time, I’m not going to hurt you, Ava. Get dressed. I will wait for you in the hall, then the two of us are having breakfast.” Impatiently he waits for me to get out of bed, his arms crossed over his chest in a way that makes his oversized muscles bulge.
“I’ll starve to death before I eat anything with you,” I bite back at him, finding my strength.
His posture straightens, and he moves closer to me, the bed dipping as his knee presses down, way too close to me. His nostrils flare, and his eyes lock on to mine. “You have five fucking minutes to do as I say or I will dress you myself, carry you downstairs, and tie you to the motherfucking chair again. Is that what you want?”
I sit up straighter, not dropping eye contact. For what feels like forever, the two of us glare at each other. It’s a battle of wills. He’s secretly challenging me to push him further, while I’m telling him I’m not going to back down and do what I’m told.
But when he marches over to my side of the bed, I scurry over to the other, leaping out as quickly as I can and making a run for the walk-in closet, slamming the door behind me. I pant, slightly out of breath, mainly from the way he was looking at me like he has some power over me. I’m not some creature to be tamed.
“You have five minutes,” I hear him call from the other side of the door.
I know I have no choice. There is no way out of this impossible situation, and the last thing I want is him dressing me again because I didn’t do what he said. If I have breakfast with him, it looks like he’s going to let me out of this room, and if that’s the case, I might just have a chance of working out an escape. With a fresh wave of determination, I scan the shelves and racks in front of me for something to chuck on quickly.
I find a pair of faded jeans and a T-shirt, and some runners, very not me, but also practical for getting the fuck out of this place as soon as I have the chance. My leather skirt from last night definitely did me in. I throw them on and run a hand through my hair, wondering how tangled a mess it is. But it’s perfect, like it’s been washed and brushed. That idea isn’t creepy at all!
Oh my God! How out of it was I last night when I passed out? When I pass out normally, I come to pretty quickly. But for him to have washed me and changed me, I would have had to have been properly knocked out. If I didn’t hit my head on the tiles on the way down, that bastard definitely must have drugged me with whatever was in that syringe. Who the fuck does he think he is, showering me, changing me, and tucking me into bed. It’s fucking disturbing as hell.
Dressed, I walk back into the room, and for the first time in my life, I couldn’t give a fuck about makeup or what I look like. So, I head right for the open door. I find Orlando standing in the hallway, just like he said he would be.
I walk slowly behind him, watching his every move like a hawk, ready to lash out or run from him. I expect him to be just as on edge as I am, but he’s not. He’s relaxed strolling down the stairs with his hands in his pockets. He’s in more casual clothes this morning than the suit he had on last night, when he was trying to imitate his brother. Tan slacks and a white linen button-up with the first few buttons undone, showcasing his angel tattoo, the one that sends a shiver down my spine every time I see it. He knows I’m watching him; I can tell when he glances over his shoulder with a stupid smirk on his lips like he’s getting a kick out of having my eyes on him.
“Stop imagining how you’re going to kill me, treasure.” He chuckles lightheartedly, still leading me into the main living room. This is the room I could see from outside of the house,with all the glass looking out over the breathtaking view of the ocean.
My heart sinks. From this room, I can see how truly fucked I am. As far as the eye can see, it’s just water all round. And that little jetty down the stone stairs is empty, no boat to escape on.
The house itself is stunning, all in ivories and whites, nothing to take away from the view, and I get a little swept up taking it all in. He leads me through the main living room to a large dining table that looks like it should be set for twelve instead of two. Then he pulls out a chair and motions for me to sit.
My top teeth sink into my bottom lip, nibbling on the dry skin. I want to tell him to fuck off. Want so badly to find a weapon I can use against him so I can get the hell out of here.
He raises a brow as if he can read my mind. “Don’t try anything. I’m trusting you to behave, don’t make me regret my decision.”
With a heavy sigh, I tentatively collapse into the soft leather high-back chair, watching him the entire time. He might be acting kind, but I don’t trust this asshole for a second. This could all be a trick.
With his hands still in his pockets, he moves to the other end of the table, looking back toward me before he takes a seat. “Before we eat, I have some rules I would like to discuss with you. This is my home, and while you’re a guest here, I want you to be comfortable, but I’m not used to sharing my home, and I like things a certain way. The rules will help to keep you safe.”
I wait for him to go on. He can tell me all the fucking rules he wants, it doesn’t mean I will follow them.
Confident I’m listening to him, he pulls out his chair and sits. “Number one. You’re not permitted to leave my home and explore the island without my explicit permission.
“Two. No touching anything that isn’t yours. This includes yourself.”
I gape back at him. “Are you fucking kidding me?” I snap.
He doesn’t even flinch, just goes on with his damn rules like I haven’t even spoken. “Three. Don't stick your nose where it doesn’t belong; unwarranted curiosity will result in painful consequences. The lighthouse tower is out of bounds at all times. Unless you want to find out what happens when you break my trust.
