* * *
Ava
When I come to, I’m laying on something plush and soft. I start to sink back down into the luxuriousness, but my head thrums with a persistent ache, and I know that something’s not right. This doesn’t feel like my bed at home, and then I sit up with a bolt as I suddenly remember what happened.
Piercing blue eyes. A darkly handsome man. A cloth coming down over my nose, drugging me.
The world spins as I sit up too fast. I raise a hand to my head to steady myself. My head feels so heavy.
“Careful, princess,” A deep voice says. It comes from the corner of the room, and my eyes dart frantically that way, seeking the source of the voice.
Although it’s dark in the room and the figure sits in the shadows, those same icy blue eyes spear me, shining in the darkness like blue flames.
Fear churns to the surface as I realize this stranger has abducted me. Who is he? What does he want with me?
A quick glance around the shadowed room reveals that I’m in a rather swanky place—not the types of basements and warehouses kidnapping victims usually seem to find themselves in. On the contrary, I’ve been laid out on a plush four-poster bed with thick blankets. I glance down over my frame and realize with relief that my clothes are still on, so it doesn’t seem like I’ve been violated in that type of way—not yet anyway.
I look back up and see those twin flames still trained intently on me. “No, princess. I didn’t rape you.”
His voice almost sounds angry, like he’s offended that I would even think that he would do something like that, but what am I supposed to think? I don’t know this guy at all, and he did steal me right out of my own backyard.
“Who are you? What do you want with me?” I almost cringe at myself. I sound like the stereotypical kidnapping victim from all those Lifetime movies I’ve watched. But really what else could be said in a situation like this?
He reaches over to a flick on the lamp sitting on the table next to where he sits in his chair like it’s a throne, like he’s some sort of king—king of the darkness. The room illuminates in a soft glow, and I can better make out my surroundings.
The room is masculine and contemporary. It’s high-end, and I can’t help thinking if this guy has money like this, why does he feel the need to kidnap girls?
My eyes fully take in his tall form. He’s wearing a suit like he’s a businessman or something. He’s sinfully handsome in that dangerous, bad boy sort of way. Surely he could have any woman he wants.
So why me? Why has he taken me? It makes no sense.
Unless maybe this is how he makes his money, by kidnapping girls and holding them for ransom.
“Whatever you’re wanting, my father will pay…” I offer.
His lips tip up into a cold smile as he leans forward, draping his arms on his knees. “Oh, that’s what I’m counting on, princess.”
My heart does this weird flutter-plummet within my chest. I’m both relieved and disappointed by his response. If all he wants is money, daddy has plenty of it, and I know he’ll pay any ransom to get me back. I’m his only child, after all.
I’m happy because this means I should be on my way home in no time, right? So, why do I feel a prickle of disappointment and self-loathing that the only reason this man took me was for the money he could get for a ransom? I mean, I should be glad he doesn’t want me in a sexual way because that means he won’t rape me.
But of course why would a guy who looks like him want me anyway? He looks to be in his early thirties. Everything about him screams man, worldly, and sophisticated. What would he want with a silly little girl like me? I blush when I remember how he’d found me with a flower crown on my head like a baby. How long had he been watching me?
I give my head a tiny shake to try to clear my mind. These crazy thoughts must just be after effects of whatever he drugged me with. Chloroform if I had to guess. In any case, just because he’s the most attractive man I’ve ever seen doesn’t mean that he’s not dangerous. I should be thrilled he’s not attracted to me and pray that he doesn’t want to do worse things to me.
“Right,” I nod at him like we’re conducting a business meeting, “so if you just let me contact him and tell him how much you want, I’m sure he’ll get it to you as soon as possible and you can let me go.”
He leans back in the chair again, hooking a foot over his knee and stroking his thumb over his lower lip as he regards me thoughtfully.
“Tell me, Ava,” he says slowly, drawing out the syllables of my name in a way that makes a tingle run up my spine, “Do I look like a man who needs money to you?”
I stare at him before swallowing and shaking my head.
He shakes his head along with me. “This is about so much more than money, my little Georgia peach.”
“What’s it about then?” my voice is barely more than a whisper.
He frowns before answering, “Nothing that you need to worry your pretty little head about.”