“Trust me,” he says, and reaching behind his body, he pulls out a long sharp dagger, using his fingers to toy with the sharp edge. “If I wanted to kill you, I think there are better and less arduous ways than a needle in your vein.” He grabs my chin and forces me to face him. “And I don’t try and kill anyone. I just do.”
“Seth was right,” I say on a shaky breath.
Chase releases me, then paces the room, twirling his blade in his hand.
My body erupts in uncontrollable tremors. It all makes sense now. The dangerous feeling I’ve always gotten when he’s around. The awareness when he’s near. He’s the one who’s been watching me while I sleep. I was right. “So then why am I here? If you’re not going to kill me?” Images flash in my brain of medieval torture devices. My chest tightens to the point of pain.
“It’s simple. You’re here because I want you to be here,” he says as if it’s obvious or somehow actually answers my question.
It isn’t.
It doesn’t.
It only infuriates me more. I kick out my legs only to remember that I’m tethered with rope to the footboard when my ankles erupt in pain from pulling on my bindings. “Untie me,” I demand, calling on inner strength I didn’t know I had.
“I’ll untie you if and when I feel you should be untied.” Chase cups my cheek in his rough palm, and I turn my head and bite into his flesh. He hisses but doesn’t remove his hand, instead continuing to caress my face and forehead, smearing my pale skin in droplets of his warm blood. “I’m the one who gives the orders here,” he warns, admiring the smears of red across my face. “Fuck, you’re perfect.”
“Is this some sort of sick game?” I demand to know. “Buying shares in my father’s company in order to gain the majority control, was that not enough fun for you? You have to torture me, too?”
“Torture?” He frowns and sits down at the edge of the bed; his hand drops to my neck and he holds my throat. Not quite squeezing but a reminder that he could if he wanted to.
What if I want him to?
The thought is both thrilling and a smack to my face that I need in order to focus on the task at hand. Figuring out why I’m here and getting the fuck out.
“You think that’s a game for me? I assure you that it isn’t. Far fucking from it.”
“Then why?” I plead. “Why any of this?”
“There’s more to all of this than you think,” he says, trailing his fingers down my neck and through the center of my breasts, causing my breath to hitch and the need between my legs to grow. “So much more.”
“Then tell me!”
Chase pounces, straddling my body with his muscular thighs. He leans over me and presses a kiss to my lips. I bite down and he leans back up with a trickle of red running down his chin and dark intentions in his eyes.
Suddenly he stands from the bed, straightening his shirt. I take the opportunity to once again sit up, only to realize that now my hands aren’t mine to move. I look up and see the metal cuffs attached at both of my wrists and now the headboard. “What the hell?” I shout.
“Behave or you’ll never leave that bed again,” he warns then turns and stares out the open window where the sun has begun to rise, bathing the room in dim shades of red and orange. His gaze rakes up and down my naked body. I tremble. “And you should know that I quite like that idea, so don’t provoke me.”
I look away from Chase, needing a break from the confusion that even a simple glance toward him brings. “What do you want from me?”
“From you? Nothing. I want to give you your birthday gift.”
My eyes dart to him and look for a trace of humor, but there isn’t any. “Birthday gift?”
“Yes. The gift of freedom.”
I close my eyes tightly, but can still feel his glare on my body, burning my white skin like direct sunlight. I’m dizzy with both blood loss and confusion, but I try and keep my wits about me. I open my eyes again, but this time I turn my attention toward my surroundings, searching for a means of escape. It’s a fool’s errand, I realize, not an actual plan, due to the being tied and cuffed to the bed and all, but it’s something.
The room itself is massive, tall ceilings and shining floors dotted with an elegant mixture of modern and antique furniture that somehow works for the space. It’s manly and dark with black velvet drapes and red fabrics lining the chipped plaster walls.
On the far wall is a large painting hanging in a gold, heavy-looking frame of what appears to be a grim take on a fairy tale. Snow White isn’t singing to the birds in this painting. Her dress is torn to shreds, exposing one of her ample breasts. Blood runs down one leg. Dirt is caked and coated onto the rest of her pale white skin, darkening her once bright face. She’s running from a shadowy figure lurking behind her, directly into what looks like a haunted forest.
“Interesting taste in art,” I dryly point out.
Chase says nothing. He simply glances at the portrait then back at me. His green eyes deepen with all the answers he’s not giving me.
His silence is more frustrating than telling me that he can’t tell me. Or won’t. It doesn’t matter. All that matters is that I’m here, and I know absolutely nothing as to why. “Are you going to tell me anything at all?” I ask, tugging at my restraints. The cuffs clank as metal scrapes against metal, but Chase is right, there’s no going free unless he releases me. I’m entirely at his mercy.
A sharp thrill weaves its way around my body, settling at the base of my spine. I shift to avoid the uncomfortable feeling, but it only seems to make it worse.
“What do you want to know, Princess?” he asks, tucking a hand into his pocket and leaning up against the wall next to the window like some sort of dark and dangerous Gucci model fresh off the kidnapper’s runway.
I think carefully about my next question. “Where are we?”
“It’s called New Amsterdam. It’s my family’s ancestral home. Well, the main one, anyway. I’m the only occupant currently, besides several dogs and my very bored housing staff.”
I scrunch my nose. “I thought you were disinherited?”
I mentally admonish myself for being so blunt, but my question doesn’t anger him. He smiles. “They did, but I came back with a vengeance and earned my own way. My father put the place up for sale after my mother decided to move to West Palm Beach without him. He moved into a penthouse on Park Avenue. So, I bought it.” He rubs the stubble on his jaw. Even the scraping of his nails against the coarse hair echoes in the silence of the massive room.
“What else would you like to know? I’ll tell you what I can, and I won’t lie to you. That I promise.”
I scoff. “I don’t trust the promises made to me by a man who ties me naked to his bed.”
“You prefer men who keep you tethered but clothed, then? Sounds not nearly as exciting as watching you writhe around naked on my bed. Your pale skin flushing to red. And you flush everywhere.” His gaze drops to between my legs, and I snap the ropes in an attempt to close them but all it does it create a burst of pain around my ankles.
“Is that your attempt at a joke?” I ask with a burst of frustrated laughter.