Total pages in book: 72
Estimated words: 66909 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 335(@200wpm)___ 268(@250wpm)___ 223(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 66909 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 335(@200wpm)___ 268(@250wpm)___ 223(@300wpm)
I have no idea where I’ll go, or what I’ll do. But the suffocating feeling of not having any choice, and having my future dictated to me is too much. I need space. I need quiet. I need a place to come up with a plan. Even if it’s from the back seat of my car.
“You will soon learn it is you who will be taking orders from me. Not the other way around.”
I try to snatch my arm away from him, but that only causes him to tighten his grip more. Huge warning bells start pealing in my head. Nick must be reading my thoughts because, right as I’m about to open my mouth to release a bloodcurdling scream, he places his fingertip on my lips.
“I wouldn’t do that,” he hisses. “No one will hear you over the music. And it will be a shame to gag that pretty mouth of yours.”
The warning bells are now blaring.
“And if you fight me,” he continues. “There will be consequences. Severe consequences.”
Tears well as my heart stops. But I swallow back the terror of knowing I’m up against a man I can’t beat.
I think he can smell the fear on me, and with that, I’m giving him power. I need to fake the strength and bravado I lack if I have any chance of walking out the door as a free woman.
“You gave your word to Sasha you’d keep me safe,” I say softly. “Which means that no matter what you threaten me with, you won’t hurt me. Not really. It’s all threats.”
“I promised her that I’d keep you safe from the Sidorovs. At no time did I say I’d keep you safe from me.”
“I won’t just walk out that door with you and pretend that all is well,” I reiterate, not sure why I’m so opposed to the idea of leaving with a man who is claiming to be doing it for my own protection. But something inside of me is telling me to get as far away from this Nick Hudson as I can.
“Very well,” he states calmly. “We’ll do it another way. A much less dignified way, but regardless.” He chuckles, looks toward the window by the door and nods his head.
The office door opens again and his two guards in black suits enter.
“Don’t make me be a cruel man, Lyriope. You’ll much prefer my hospitality over my brutality.”
I think about trying to make a run for it, but I know it’s pointless. I can cry and beg to be left alone, but something inside of me wants to maintain a bit of dignity, especially since I know it won’t work anyway. It’s clear Nick Hudson is a man who gets what he wants and doesn’t negotiate with anyone, let alone a woman who has nothing to negotiate with.
I notice one of the security guards reach into his pocket and pull out a bottle and a rag.
“Time for you to take a nap. And when you wake up, this entire experience in Wonderland will just have been a nightmare,” Nick says.
As the rag is placed over my mouth and nose, the last thing I see is Nick running a finger around the shiny facets of ruby. The last thing I hear is the sound of bass and music in the distance. The last thought I have before I sink into a hole of darkness is that I’m being kidnapped, and everything about my life is about to change.
Chapter Ten
Lyriope
It’s the sound of dripping water I focus on first. Drip after drip—slow and steady. My eyelids are still heavy, and something deep within my soul resists the urge to open them. There’s a reality on the other side I don’t want to face.
So, I’d rather focus on the drip, drip, drip.
Safer.
No.
I’m not safe. I am far from safe.
I was so wrong to go to Wonderland. I was so wrong to think Nick was anything but a monster.
My fingers are numb. I can’t move my arms. I can’t pull my wrists apart. My shoulder blades burn. I’m cold.
Fuck…
I’m completely naked.
I have no choice. I have to open my eyelids. I can no longer hide behind their security.
With a slow flutter, I blink against the dim lighting of the room I’m in. It doesn’t take long for me to become aware of my new surroundings. I don’t have a stitch of clothing on, my arms tied behind my back, lying on my side on cold concrete in what appears to be a wine cellar full of hundreds, if not thousands, of bottles of wine. The recessed pot lighting from above casts a dim enough light for me to see wine barrels up against expertly carved cabinetry holding decanters and crystal glasses. Though I’m being treated as a prisoner, my surroundings are far from a prison.