The one I asked Parker to protect me from.
The one he promised he’d keep me safe from.
The one the guys laughed at and said it was probably some teenybopper.
This nightmare was anything but a teenybopper.
And I was anything but safe.
I’d opened my mouth to scream, only to have a beefy hand slap over my lips and catch me as I fell, the drugs he injected me with working too quickly to fight.
I jerked my wrist, cringing from the screech of metal on metal. With a quick glance around the room, I saw I was alone, and the last thing I wanted to do was alert whoever had taken me to the fact I was awake.
Taking stock of my surroundings, I stalled over the picturesque room. Simple grays and whites, clean lines. Hell, even a flower arrangement sat on the nightstand. I wasn’t sure if the normality of the room caused more panic or less. Maybe because I expected a mattress on a floor or some dingy trailer that reeked of desperation and evil. Instead, my mind had to wrap around the nightmare I was in with the warm scent of vanilla floating around me. It felt like some kind of mind game to lure me into comfort before the worst—the calm before the storm.
Creaking reached through the closed door opposite the bed, sounds like footsteps coming up wooden stairs. The sun shining through the mostly-shut blinds let me know I wasn’t in a basement, so that meant I had to be on the second floor. As the steps got closer, my mind swirled with options. I could pretend I was asleep, but that would leave me lying vulnerable. But I was already vulnerable cuffed to the bed. And who knew if he’d even care if I was conscious or not.
I looked side to side and made a quick decision to roll off the side of the bed, wedging myself in the space against the wall. It was a false sense of protection, but I’d take what I could get.
The door creaked open, and I held my breath.
Footsteps faltered as if frozen before a soft chuckle squeezed my lungs even tighter than I thought possible.
“There’s no need to hide,” his deep voice said, almost amused. “But I’m glad you’re awake. I hated drugging you.” He rounded the corner, giving me the first real look at his face. Like the room, he was normal—almost handsome. If this was a movie, I’d expect him to be the good guy coming to rescue me with his warm brown eyes and tousled brown hair. He looked attractive in a non-discrepant way. Muscular, but not bulky. Dressed nice, but casual, in jeans and a plain black T-shirt. Not at all the balding man with a beer belly and stained tank top.
Just like the normality of the room, it only served to add to my panic.
He leaned against the wall, arms flexing as they crossed over his broad chest, taking me in crouched in the corner.
“You’re just as beautiful as I imagined. I’ve watched you online, I don’t know how many times, and come to all your shows, but I never allowed myself to get too close. I wasn’t sure I trusted myself until I had a plan in place.”
He stepped sideways to edge between the bed and wall, coming into my space, but thankfully, stopped to sit on the bed. I lifted my chin and forced the most stubborn don’t-fuck-with-me look I could muster. His legs almost reached where mine balled up to my chest, and I considered lashing out and kicking him with all I had but decided to save my energy and wait him out. If he wanted to keep space for now, then I would take it.
“The first time I saw you, you were singing in the YouTube video. Then to find out you were in New York, I just knew. I had to have you.”
Don’t poke the bear. Don’t provoke him. Bide your time.
I repeated it over and over, clamping my jaw tight against the acidic retorts I wanted to give about people not being owned. The more I watched him, the more his simple look appeared as a veneer, and I was in no rush to find out what it covered.
“Nova, Nova. You were impossible to miss, and I didn’t want to take you randomly. I wanted to prepare you. You got my notes, right?”
I refused to give even the slightest head nod.
“I never thought those boys would leave your side,” he sneered.
His words sent a sharp reminder through my already fragile heart, planting the first seed of blame.
If they hadn’t left me, I wouldn’t be here.
If they hadn’t pushed me to join the band, I wouldn’t be here.
If they hadn’t joked about my fan mail, then I wouldn’t be here.
If Parker had kept his promise to keep me safe, I wouldn’t be here.