Chapter One
Theadora
My breath shakes. How is that even possible? To have your breath shake? Shit!
Rough hands shove me, and I fall to my knees. My tied hands shoot out to catch me before I hit the ground. If it’s rough, I’m afraid they may bleed.
Really, Theadora, that’s what you’re worried about?
I shake my thoughts away as I hear a laugh. I am unsure if I should sit up straight or stay bent over—I’m wearing a skirt that’s way too short to stay this way—but if they wanted to do something to me, my guess is they would have by now. And so far, all they have done is tie me up, put a beanie on my head that covers my eyes, and throw me in a car.
“This is her!” A deep voice grumbles, which makes me sit up straight as it rumbles through my chest. I glance up to see this man, but then realize there’s absolutely no reason at all to do so, considering I cannot see with the black beanie over my head effectively blocking my vision.
My hands are still tied in front of me, but they’re no longer touching the ground, which is a hard surface. Cement maybe? I can’t really tell.
“Yes, her.” I’m kicked forward again, this time I’m not fast enough to stop the impact of my face meeting the floor. My forehead cracks as it makes contact, and my eyes squeeze shut as a burst of pain shoots through me.
“Gentle,” that gruff voice states. “I don’t want to break her…” I swallow as he pauses, “… yet.”
Hands push me back, making me sit on my doubled back legs while one hand wraps around my throat and tightens.
This is the part where I should be screaming. I should be doing something, anything to fight this man. Except my body doesn’t want to. Instead, it locks and freezes at his touch.
I’ve heard stories of this happening, how your body locks up, even though you should be running, screaming, anything to get yourself free. I didn’t believe it was possible until this very second. How can your fight or flight response not kick in?
I’m a good girl, having never done anything bad in my life.
“Boss, we can dispose of her easily enough.”
Something snaps in me. “No.” It’s croaky, but I manage to squeak out the word.
The hands around my throat don’t move, but his breath I can feel and smell through the beanie has a minty scent as he leans in closer to me.
“No,” he says. “Do you even know why you are here, Theadora?” This man says my name as if he knows me. I don’t know him—that voice, I would remember it. Trying to analyze him will do me no good. I can’t see his reactions, so I go with gut instinct about what I want to say.
“No,” I say because I have absolutely no idea why I am here. Which makes this situation even worse because I can be clumsy and forgetful. But for me to have done something to put me in this situation where they are talking of physically harming me? No. That’s not something I’ve done.
“Maybe you should ask Lucy.”
I pull back at his words, finally trying to free myself from his grasp. He holds me in place, the pressure hardening at my movement. “So, you know now, don’t you?” I hear him take a deep breath, breathing me in.
“Where is she?” I ask with more venom than I thought I could muster. I feel the tears welling in my eyes, which I can’t reach to wipe away, so they fall helplessly down my cheek and soak into my beanie.
“So, that got your attention.” He pulls back. Well, I think he does, as I can no longer smell his breath near my face, and his hand on my throat loosens until it drops away completely. “Theadora! You don’t mind if I call you that now, do you?”
I try to keep my smart-ass mouth shut at his words.
“Look, you’re learning, much faster than Lucy did.”
A small, shaky cry leaves me as heavy footsteps surround me. Hands reach under my arms and pull me up roughly, so I am standing on my own two feet.
“Where is she?” I ask the one who is doing all the talking. I can’t tell where he is now that his hands aren’t touching my throat, but my guess is he’s in charge, so I direct my voice to where I assume he’s standing
“Lucy stole over a million dollars from me, Theadora. You will help me get that back. Or else Lucy will forget to breathe.”
My mouth opens wide in shock at his words.
A million dollars? Fuck.
How?
Why?
So many questions.
And the last but most important one.
How the fuck am I meant to get that much money?
I’m smart. I earn good money managing one of the busiest clothing companies in the world, but I don’t come near to earning that. And my savings is next to nothing, since I just bought my first home.
“Do you understand me, Theadora?”
My brain is too busy trying to figure out how to pull together that much money. Selling my house won’t even give me half, and Lucy has no assets or money. Our parents died a long time ago, so it’s just Lucy and me.
“How long do I have?” I ask.
The beanie is ripped from my face, my blonde hair, which was being held back, now sticks to my lips and I push it away with my tongue. My eyes are blurry, and I can hardly make anything out as he starts talking again, so I close my eyes and listen to his voice.
“You have one month, Theadora.”
My heart drops, and I open my eyes, zoning in on that voice.
The man standing in front of me is not what I expected. Actually, he is anything but. If I saw him walking down the street I would stop to stare. If he were one of my company models, I would have stayed the whole shoot instead of instructing what I want, then leaving like I normally would.
No. This man? He is an attractive bad man, nothing more.
But despite his eyes that seem to stare straight through me, his hair is best described as scorched chestnut in color and appears tangled. He also has a nose ring and a slight beard.
Who is this man?
He looks like a grungy, hot supermodel. Not someone who just had his hands around my neck telling me I had one month to pay him back for something I haven’t even done.
One of his hands, which is free of tattoos, reaches into his pocket. He pulls out his cell phone, snaps a picture of me, and places it back where it was.
His amber, almond-shaped eyes stare at me as he glances me up and down before speaking, “You look different to Lucy.”
My blonde hair doesn’t match her black hair. My wide hips don’t match her narrow little waist either. If you put us side by side, the only part we got from our mother was her lips, there’s not a single thing else. We both look like our fathers—different fathers.
“Do you plan to hurt me?” I ask, managing to look straight into his amber eyes.
“I told you, not yet.” His hands stay at his sides, but when I look down, one twitches. I quickly look away and behind me where there is no one.
“They are outside that door.” His dark voice rocks through me as I look at the red door that would provide freedom. But what’s the use when he knows who I am? He takes a few steps, his lips right at my ear. “You could run. You could definitely make this more fun…”
I turn around fast, and he doesn’t step back as he inhales me. My body freezes when a knock on the red door makes him step back just a fraction so he isn’t near my neck anymore. A shiver I was holding in wracks through my body.