“How do you know what medication I take?” I ask, my voice a little shakier than I want it to be.
He pushes his chair back with a screech, stands, and comes around the table, his footsteps echoing slightly as he approaches. His expression is unreadable as he leans into the table beside me.
With my heart kicking up a beat, I stand in a rush, picking up my knife, not wanting him to have the advantage over me again. I’m not sure what the hell I’m going to do with a butter knife, but fuck, it’s something.
He leans his ass against the table, just out of arm’s reach, still watching me. He doesn’t look at all worried about the knife I’m gripping tightly, but he’s keeping his distance as well, and so he should. If he’s heard about the medication I’m on, hopefully he knows how good I am with a weapon. “Are you going to run,treasure?” He asks the question as if he’s taunting me. Testing me to see how long it takes for me to try.
My heart races, and I grip the knife tighter, wanting desperately to do exactly that. “No.” I stare back at him, waiting to see what the hell he’s about to do.
“I’ve been protecting you for a long time, Sloane. You learn a thing or two when you watch someone’s habits over time. Right now, I see that scared look on your pretty face, those wide brown eyes assessing every aspect of this room, looking for a way out or a weapon to harm me with.”
I raise my chin, not letting him get any sort of advantage over me. “Protecting me, what does that even mean?”
He pushes off the table and moves toward the window, looking out over the ocean. “Your daddy painted a massive fucking target on your back. One you can’t outrun or escape, no matter how many boyfriends you have shielding you. I think last night proved that.” He looks back to me, a smug-as-shit expression on his face because he knows he’s the one who took me from right under their noses. “Your enemies can’t reach you here. If they try, we will know about it and be ready for them. It’s the benefit of owning this entire island. There is only one way in or out.” He motions to the jetty were the boat we arrived on was docked last night. With a heavy sigh, he moves back toward the table, holding out his hand, and I know he wants the knife.
I stare back at him, not ready to give it up just yet. What he’s saying could all just be hot air. I don’t believe he wants to protect me. My eyes narrow, and I grip the knife tighter, ready to launch at him.
“You need to start trusting me.”
My head moves from side to side slowly, telling him there is no way I can trust him. I remember him; he was cruel and callous. He wanted to hurt me, and he would have if it wasn’t forOnyx. “I will never trust the man who attacked me when I was a vulnerable teenager. You disgust me.”
Visible lines appear on his forehead and every muscle in his face tightens, hardening to motherfucking scary. “Give me the fucking knife, Sloane,” he demands with a tight voice. I just triggered his crazy switch. Well, good, he’s been triggering mine since I arrived here.
With a shaky hand, I raise the knife, ready to use it. “Take me home, asshole,” I demand. Even though I try to be strong, the knife trembles in my hand. I want to hurt him like he hurt me. Take away whatever he loves most in this world, just like his family did my mother. I lunge at him, needing to inflict the same pain.
In one swift move, he grabs at me, capturing the wrist holding the knife. He pulls me into his front, his strong arms wrapping around my chest as my back hits the solid wall of muscle he has under his shirt. He’s a fucking weapon himself. With his knee, he forces the knife out of my hand, and it clatters to the tile floor below.
I cry out at the loss. That was my chance, and I fucked it up.
“That was your second mistake today. Looks like someone is going to be spending the rest of the day locked up, when we could have taken a nice walk around the island.” I hear the disappointment in his voice, but I don’t give a flying fuck. Every fucking time I can, I will try to escape him.
With me fighting him the entire way back through his house, he drags me back to the room I spent last night in. His hold on me is firm but not unkind or even really rough. It doesn’t need to be, when he’s already so much stronger than I am.
I struggle against him, not making it easy, sinking my teeth into his forearm when he won’t release me. I’m not being locked up again.
He growls out in pain, but he doesn’t loosen his grip on me. Shoving me back inside the room, I fall backwards to the carpeted floor, staring back up at him with so much hate in my body, I feel like I’m going to explode.
“You need to remember who holds the key to everything you want from now on, Sloane. Those pills you so desperately crave have just slipped out of your reach.” He takes a step back, pressing his thumb to the keypad and locking me in. His furious eyes are still fixed on me through the glass. “Take some time to think over my rules. Then maybe at dinner you will be a little better behaved.”
My pulse goes nuts as panic takes over. Fuck. I curl up in a ball and try to block it all out. Him, my current situation, his stupid rules and the spiraling thoughts that now consume my mind.
Chapter 4
Inadaze,Isit upright, trying to stretch out my stiff back. I must have fallen asleep on the floor, exhausted after the asshole forced me into a fucking panic attack. I’m surprised to find the bedroom door isn’t closed anymore, and I’m not sure why, but that makes me feel a little uneasy. Last I saw of Orlando, he was mighty pissed that I threatened him with a butter knife, saying he was locking me up in here until dinner. Now I’m free to leave my room?
With a groan, I scrub a hand over my tired face, the cottony fuzz of sleep still clinging to my senses. I clumsily get to my feet and move over to the window. Looking out over the view, I see the sun is setting in oranges and pinks and know I must have been out of it for hours. Maybe it is dinnertime, and that’s why the door is now open?
Although this place is my prison, the view is breathtaking. Waves gently lapping the shore that stretches endlessly, the dense bushland that forms a lush green spine down the island’s center, and the ocean as far as the eye can see. From my window I can also make out the jetty our boat arrived at lastnight. Today a gleaming, white luxury yacht is docked, and I spot Orlando below, speaking with a man in a charcoal suit. The other man looks as if he exudes wealth and mystery, much like Orlando himself. I squint, trying to make him out better, but I don’t recognize him. They do, however, look like they are good friends, laughing together and looking very relaxed as they talk. Orlando looks almost human like this. If I’d met him in a normal situation, I wouldn’t even know the monster that was hidden beneath the surface. A man so cruel that he could pretend to be his twin brother just to kidnap me in the middle of the night and drag me back to his island.
Regret sits heavily at the pit of my stomach. I should have known it wasn’t Romeo. There were signs in the way he touched me, in the way he talked even, but I was exhausted and confused after the VIP event, and how could I have known Orlando was still alive? Everyone thought he was dead, including his own brother.
I close my eyes and suck in a deep breath. If only I had fought him off harder, I wouldn’t be stuck here right now. The boys will be going mental trying to find me. They’re never going to forgive me for getting myself into this mess. I should have known the bodies were a distraction for my stalker to get into the club. I should have fucking known.
When I allow my eyes to open, I find him still down on the jetty. Something occurs to me. While Orlando is busy, I can have a better look around the place, see if I can find a way out or a weapon I can use later. I can’t just sit here and take this shit because he says I have to. That’s not me. I will fight until I have nothing left to fight him with, that’s the Stryker way.
Carefully I creep quietly down the stairs, my eyes wide and my heart pounding so hard I can hear it in my ears. He said there would be punishment if I disobey his rules, but he’s busy, and what he doesn’t know won’t hurt him or me. When I getdown the bottom of the stairs, I check out the window to make sure he’s still outside. And luckily for me, he is still deep in conversation with his buddy. Perfect.
I walk through the main living room, taking a better look around than I could this morning. It has a warm homely feel about it, beachy-type knickknacks on the mantle above the sandstone fireplace that look as though they have been collected from around this very island—shells, coral, and driftwood. Abstract art in shades of blue hangs on the wall, above rattan armchairs draped with oversized plush cushions and throw blankets in creamy ivory and white, creating a calm and inviting atmosphere. I check the cold fireplace, expecting to find the stoker, but it’s oddly missing. Or not so oddly. He really has thought of everything.
