The handle depressed without a sound, and much to my relief, the door swung open on perfectly lubricated hinges. The studio-style apartment seemed empty, as if I’d been dumped here purely for the fuck-around to ruin my Sunday.
Putting one foot in front of the other, I tiptoed into the open plan living space and hurried toward the exit, just past a small kitchen area. My heart raced loud in my ears, and my breath rasped with fear. I was near panting by the time I reached the door.
“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” came a low, sleepy voice behind me.
A strangled gasp gathered in my throat and my trembling fingers halted, poised and ready to touch the door handle.
I whipped around, eyes darting in every direction until I saw a figure lying on the couch, watching me through the shadows.
The fright made my stomach turn. I pressed a hand to my chest and swallowed down a wave of bile. Fighting to get the nausea under control wasted precious moments, and once I realized that, there was no way I was sticking around to ask questions.
I spun and fumbled with the security chain, feeling a moment of overwhelming relief when the stranger’s hands didn’t stop my efforts. The door handle depressed and I let out a cry of jubilation which immediately became a cry of despair.
The door didn’t budge. No matter how hard or violently I yanked on the handle, it wouldn’t open.
“You can’t leave until I let you,” the voice came again. Keys then jingled. “I added a little extra security.”
I closed my eyes as desolation tore through me, taking my heart with it. Inspecting the door frame gave me answers; a bolt lock was installed at the top, one that could only be opened with a key. The key the stranger had.
I whirled again and pressed my back to the door. My heart beat harder than I ever thought possible as I stammered for words.
“Who are you, and why am I here?”
“It’s too early for Q and A, Penelope. Go back to bed.”
The nice guy act wasn’t fooling me. He was insane if he thought I was going to happily crawl back into bed, as if being locked in a high-rise apartment with a complete stranger was absolutely acceptable.
“The fuck, I’m goingback to bed!Let me go!”
“No. Boss’s orders.”
Screw that. I was getting out of here, come hell or high water. Mom always told me that if I found myself in a dangerous situation, fight like hell to get out.
I pounded on the door and screamed at the top of my lungs. “Fire!Fire!Help me! FIRE!”
“Bitch!”
Handsdidgrab me then. Not as roughly as I expected, but still with enough force to haul me backward into the living area. I kicked out and threw my head back, hoping to land a lucky shot on his nose. I struggled and fought with all my might to get an arm free. To getanythingfree.
“You’ll pay for this. You don’t know who you’re dealing with,” I screamed before a hand clamped hard over my mouth.
“I know exactly who you are, Penelope Prescott. That’s why you’re here. Daddy can’t run for office if his priorities lie elsewhere, don’t you think?”
My blood ran cold and panic clawed. This was purely political, and I was caught in a war that wasn’t mine to fight.
“As soon as you’ve quit struggling, I’ll ease my grip. And when I do, you’re going to get the hell into that bedroom and sleep off your hangover.”
“You’re fucking kidding me,” I said into his palm, the entire statement muffled and incoherent.
“Nod.” The snapped, single word left no room for question.
I complied, and immediately his arms fell away. I took a deep breath, and was processing the thought of running for the door when his hand clamped around my upper arm.
“I’m not here to hurt you, but I will restrain you if necessary. If you scream, I’ll gag and tie you. Same goes if you go banging on that door again. Got it?”
I savagely tugged my arm free. “I need the bathroom. Or am I not allowed to use that either?”
He motioned toward the bathroom with one graceful sweep of his arm. “Be my guest. Forewarning, I’ve already removed the lock. Though, you have my word I won’t enter while you’re using it.”