Shattered Hearts: A Dark Romance (Bad Blood Book 1) Page 5

  “Guess I’ll starve, then.”

  Infuriatingly, he gave a chuckle. “We’ll see how long that lasts. I doubt you’ve ever even known real hunger.”

  As though to taunt me, he took another bite of his sandwich, tucking in while I sat glaring at him. When he finished, he used the napkin to wipe his mouth.

  “Behave yourself, be cooperative, and you’ll be all right. Misbehavior, however, like we witnessed outside, will be punished.” He glanced to the corners of the room. “There are cameras in here for me to watch you, so don’t try anything stupid. I’ll know if you do.”

  He was fearsomely strong. I’d already felt the swell of his biceps when he’d been holding me. I’d never be able to overpower him physically. I needed to be smart.

  “How many others have you held down here?” I asked, wondering what poor souls had lived here before me. This must be some kind of game for him, how he found his women, rather than having a girlfriend or wife. A shiver wracked through my entire body. Was that what I was going to be to him—a female plaything until he got sick of me and replaced me with a newer model?

  “None,” he replied.

  His answer took me back. “I’m the first?”

  “Yes, and the last. There is only you.”

  “Why me?”

  “You’ll find out soon enough.”

  I wanted to throw myself at him, to scream and hit and claw out those beautiful green eyes with my nails, but instead I sat silent, with my hands balled into fists in my lap, my nails digging into my own skin.

  “In the meantime, I suggest you make yourself comfortable.”

  And with that, he got to his feet. He went to the elevator and used a keycard against a sensor on the outside wall to open the doors, before disappearing inside.

  The doors closed again, shutting me in this underground, windowless space.

  I launched to my feet and threw myself at the elevator. “No, no! Stop! Wait!”

  I punched the button to open the door, and hit my balled fists against the metal doors. Tears streamed down my face.

  Suddenly exhausted and miserable right down to my very soul, I sank to the floor and cried.

  Chapter Seven

  Loretta was waiting for me when I stepped out of the elevator. “How did it go?”

  I shrugged. “As well as can be expected. She was never going to be happy about this. Not that I should care. Not that any of us should care. You know what she did.”

  Loretta nodded. “I know.”

  “Get some sleep,” I told the older woman. “We’ll need you in the morning.”

  “Yes, sir.” She ducked her head in a nod and turned to scurry away.

  I needed to get some rest myself. I’d been awake for twenty-four hours now, but first I wanted to check on my houseguest. I hadn’t been lying when I told her there were cameras set up in the room.

  I went into my office where a number of screens were positioned around the desk. This was one of my favorite rooms in the house. The front wall was made up of a large glass panel which gave me unadulterated views across the ocean. It was quiet out there tonight, the moon reflected in fractured lines across the ocean waves. My favorite time, however, was when a storm hit and the waves rose up like angry sea monsters and crashed against the cliffs. It was nights like that when I truly felt alive.

  Taking a seat in the big leather chair at my desk, I leaned forward and hit the key to bring the computer to life.

  Jolie, Jolie, Jolie.

  The feel of her body as she squirmed against me, trying to get free. The scent of her hair as it brushed beneath my nose. The sight of her tear-streaked face and those wide blue eyes, the lashes wet and clinging together. Thoughts of her penetrated my head, twisting and tangling in ways I knew were wrong, and yet couldn’t quite seem to stop. My body reacted as well, my balls tingling and blood flowing to my burgeoning erection. My cock pressed against the inside of my suit pants, creating a noticeable line.

  I knew it was wrong, but the knowledge she was mine now made me hard.

  On the screens in front of me, giving me different viewpoints of her room from all angles to prevent her hurting herself as much as anything, I was able to see her curled up in a ball on the bed in the middle of the room. Vulnerable. Defenseless.

  Fuck.

  This was not part of the plan.

  Using the computer, I clicked to a new screen. From here, I controlled everything in her room—from the lighting to the temperature. I would have it automated most of the time, so the lights would dim at night to allow her to sleep, but because I’d known we’d be arriving here in the middle of the night, I’d overridden the automation and kept the lights on. Now, however, I clicked a couple of keys to bring the lights down, casting her small shape into darkness until morning.

  Now that I was unable to see her clearly, I was able to breathe again.

  Needing to take my mind off her, I pushed back the chair and hurried upstairs. My bedroom suite took up one wing of the house, a walk-in closet and full sized bathroom attached to the bedroom through adjoining doors. I’d already pulled off my tie earlier that day and stuffed it in my jacket pocket, so I undid the buttons of my shirt and shrugged the material from my shoulders before flicking open my pants. I kicked them off, together with my shoes, and, as I preferred not to wear underwear, headed straight to the shower. A cold one should sort me out, but my erection hadn’t abated any and was now leading the way.

  I turned on the water. It cascaded into the stall, but I couldn’t bring myself to stand under a cool spray, the touch of it making my skin rise in goose bumps.

  Fuck it.

  Twisting the temperature dial back to warm, I stepped beneath the flow. Turning around, I lifted my face to the water and scrubbed both hands over my eyes. I shook the water out of my hair.

  My cock continued to mock me.

  I knew I’d never sleep like this. Using some bodywash, I soaped myself down. I ran my hand along the length of my dick and then underneath, massaging my balls, slipping my fingers beneath, to my perineum. Arousal condensed tight and determined in my groin, and I brought my hand back again. With my head bent, the water pounding on the back of my neck and shoulders, I ran my fist up and down my erection.

  I was still allowed to masturbate. There was nothing wrong with that. I just had to make sure I wasn’t thinking of her when I did it. I wasn’t thinking of that tight little body, and that tear-streaked, perfect face, or the rise and fall of her tits as I held her firmly against me. I wasn’t allowed to think of how she’d look naked with her hands still taped behind her back, that curvy ass high in the air and her face pressed to the floor, while I positioned myself behind her and sank into that tight, wet pussy.

  My balls pulled into my body, and my orgasm caught me in its grip. I came hard, my ass cheeks clenched, my face screwed up in intense pleasure. Creamy ribbons of cum shot out across the tiles, to be quickly washed away by the water still streaming from the showerhead.

  I let out a groan and dropped my forehead against the tiles. Even after orgasming, she was still in my head, and all I wanted to do now was go back down to my office and sit and watch her sleep, and make sure she didn’t come to any harm.

  Oh, crap.

  I was in deep shit.

  Chapter Eight

  I hadn’t thought I would sleep, but I did.

  I woke not knowing where I was, my head filled with confusion until it all came tumbling back on me.

  I’d been taken. Kidnapped. And now I was the prisoner of some handsome, rich psychopath in his million-dollar home on his private island.

  This wasn’t good.

  Cautiously, I swung my legs off the bed and looked around. The lights had come back on after being dimmed shortly after I’d been brought down here, though I’d done nothing to alter the lighting. I could only assume the man, Hayden, was controlling them from a computer somewhere. I was alone, for the moment, though he’d told me there were cameras in the room and he was able to w
atch me. Was I able to tell where they were?

  Peering up into the corners of the room, I tried to spot a telltale blinking red light, or a circle of glass. I knew cameras were tiny these days, but there were only so many places in this room where they could be hidden. If I was able to cover a couple up, or even smash them, then I might buy myself some privacy for a few minutes. I’d need to use that privacy to my advantage. There was no point in drawing attention to myself and getting in trouble by breaking the cameras and not having a plan in place about how to use the time wisely until they were replaced. At this point, I had no idea what kind of plan I would come up with, but I figured if this was supposed to be my new home, I’d have plenty of time to think of something.

  My stomach twisted at the idea of spending days or weeks or months locked up down here. What would he do with me in all that time? I didn’t really want to think about that either. I wasn’t naïve. The chances of a man holding a woman hostage and not laying a finger on her wasn’t likely. But what would happen to me when my time was over? Would I be released, or passed on to someone else? Or would that be the point where he’d kill me?

  I closed my eyes and inhaled through my nose, trying to calm my racing heart. I’d figure something out before we got to that point. I wasn’t going to die here. I refused to. I’d do everything within my power to make sure I lived.

  Even make him fall in love with me, if I had to.

  My bladder was full enough to hurt, so I got to my feet. I already knew there was an adjoining bathroom—something I was grateful for and had used the previous night before I’d slept—so I hurried over to it. The bathroom suite was simple, not possessing any of the luxury I’d seen in the rest of the house, but even as I pulled down my jeans and plopped myself down on the toilet, I was already scanning the small space for anything I could use as a weapon. My bladder emptied in a hot rush of urine into the bowl and I sighed in relief. It suddenly occurred to me that there were most likely cameras in here, too, and that sick son-of-a-bitch was watching me take a piss. I didn’t know where the cameras were, but I lifted my right hand and flipped the bird at the air, hoping he’d see that, too.

  I finished up and washed my hands. I winced at my reflection in the mirror. My hair was mussed up almost comically on one side, and the graze I’d sustained across my cheek when I’d fallen had crusted over. It still stung when I moved my face, but there wasn’t much I could do about it. I took a moment to look around. I’d been provided with toiletries—a plastic toothbrush, toothpaste, shampoo and conditioner, soap, and even a moisturizer. There was no razor, for obvious reasons. I’d only recently gone for a wax, so I didn’t need one yet anywhere, but I’d be a hairy mess within a month or so. Good. Maybe it would keep him away from me. I didn’t intend on taking a shower any time soon either. I’d rather be filthy and stink than freshen myself up for him, and besides, if I took a shower I would have to do so knowing he was most likely watching. The steam would go some way to fogging up the camera lens, but I still shuddered at the idea of him getting off on seeing me naked in the shower.

  He might be wealthy and ridiculously handsome, but that didn’t stop him being cruel. And I wasn’t stupid—I’d seen how he’d looked at me, and felt his hardness press against my back when he’d been pushing me around. Showed what a sick fuck he was when a man who looked like him, who was clearly successful, could have any girl he wanted, and yet he got off on kidnapping one instead.

  I pressed my lips together and gritted my teeth. Anger. Yes, that was a good emotion to fix upon. Better than fear or sadness or self-pity. What I needed was some kind of weapon I could use to keep him away from me. My gaze caught the toothbrush. Didn’t prisoners whittle down the ends to make a shank? They could be pretty sharp, couldn’t they? Of course, I had no idea what I was going to use to whittle it with. What did they use in prison? It wasn’t as though I had a knife. If I had a knife, I wouldn’t need to whittle down a damned toothbrush.

  Exhaling a frustrated sigh, I kept looking. I pursed my lips at the toilet seat. If I was able to undo it from the toilet, would I be able to smash the lid, maybe use fragments of that as a weapon? It would hardly be subtle, however. That asshole Hayden would be down here in a second if he saw me smashing the place up. No, what I needed was something I could use that he wouldn’t see coming. The bathroom mirror could also be smashed, but again, that was a noisy thing to do, and knowing my luck, I’d end up cutting myself worse than I’d ever manage to cut him.

  There was nothing in the bathroom, so I left it to return to the bedroom.

  The sandwich that had been presented to me when I’d arrived still sat on the plate. My stomach roiled in hunger, but there was no way I was going to eat it. I didn’t even care that it meant I wouldn’t be brought breakfast. I wasn’t going to cooperate with that bastard.

  The plastic plate beneath the sandwich caught my eye, however. How sharp would it be if it snapped? A plate would certainly be easier to break than a mirror or a toilet seat, and I’d be able to do it without being seen if I was careful. Maybe if I hid beneath the blanket on the bed while I did it? I chewed my lower lip as I thought. The problem would be taking the plate without him noticing it was missing. I wouldn’t be able to do it now. If he came down and saw the sandwich just sitting on the tabletop, he’d know I’d stolen the plate. No, I needed to bide my time and choose my moment.

  The whirring of the elevator snatched my attention.

  Wanting to put as much space as possible between myself and the man who’d taken me, I stumbled away, using my hands to negotiate my way around to the other side of the bed to put the item of furniture between us. There wasn’t much the bed could do, but it still somehow felt safer.

  The elevator door slid open, and a figure stepped out, but it wasn’t the man who’d taken me. No, it was Loretta, the older woman who’d opened the door for us when we’d arrived. She was short and I guessed in her fifties, possibly a little older, with black hair that had threads of white weaving through it.

  “Oh, thank God.” I rounded the bed again. “Please, you have to help me. That man, Hayden, has kidnapped me. I’m not supposed to be here. I need to find a phone. Please, you have to help me.”

  She snapped around to face me. “I have to do nothing of the sort.” I was surprised to hear an American accent. Her tone was vicious and she shot me a glare of hatred that made me stumble back. What had I ever done to this woman? Or what had Hayden told her I’d done to instill such loathing in a complete stranger?

  I wasn’t going to give up that easily. “You must know this isn’t right. Please, I’ll do anything you want me to if you just help me.”

  What the hell was this woman’s problem? Did she have a thing for Hayden and was jealous of his kidnapped women? Could she be his mother, and disapproved of the women he kidnapped? I could see that maybe they were related, as she shared his dark hair and olive skin tone. It all sounded ridiculous in my head, however.

  “You did not eat the sandwich I made.” Her tone was accusatory.

  I was quickly coming to realize this woman was not going to be an ally. I didn’t know why she hated me so much, but she was definitely on Hayden’s side.

  “I wasn’t hungry,” I said sullenly, glaring right back at her.

  “You know that means you won’t get any breakfast.”

  “I won’t be hungry for breakfast either.”

  “And if you don’t eat lunch,” she continued, “then you won’t get any dinner either, and so you won’t eat all day.”

  I folded my arms across my chest, my jaw tight. “Fine.”

  She shrugged. “Suit yourself.”

  She was small—even shorter than my own five feet two frame—and I could probably overpower her. Hell, I could definitely outrun her. I glanced back toward the elevator doors. They’d shut again the moment she stepped out, but they’d have to open when she went to leave.

  Hayden had told me there was nowhere to run. He said we were on an island and I’d die be
fore I swam to safety, but if we were on an island, I bet there would be a boat somewhere.

  Maybe I didn’t need a weapon. If I could get out of this house, now that my hands were free, maybe I could get to safety myself.

  I remained paused as the woman picked up the plate containing the uneaten sandwich and turned back to the elevator. She’d left the half drunk bottle of water where it was.

  Adrenaline had sent my heart racing, blood pumping through my ears so it sounded loud, like a waterfall. I edged closer, every muscle tensed, ready to spring. The moment those doors opened, I would make my move. She used her keycard against the small scanner on the wall. The doors parted, and I sucked in a breath, waiting for them to open a little more, and then lunged for her.

  I didn’t care that she was an older woman—all I wanted was to be out of there. My hands met with her shoulders, intending on shoving her out of the way, but she moved with surprising grace to meet me, and she had something other than the sandwich in her hand.

  Something struck me. My entire body went rigid, and pain seared through me. A fast clicking filled my ears, tick-tick-tick-tick. I thought I was saying ‘wait, stop’ but my voice was only in my head. I’d lost the ability to speak except for the strangled groaning coming from my throat. I crashed to the ground, the rigidness of my muscles not abating. The clicking suddenly stopped, and my muscles finally relaxed. To my relief, the pain faded.

  I realized what had happened.

  The fucking bitch had Tased me.

  She leaned over me and yanked the tongs from my body. “Don’t try anything like that again,” she hissed before stepping into the elevator and vanishing from view.

  I stayed where I was, trying to get my head around what had just happened. I guessed I should have been thankful it wasn’t a regular gun she’d pulled, but I certainly hadn’t expected to be Tased.

  Cautiously, I pushed myself to sitting. I didn’t seem to be hurt from the experience. I lifted up my shirt to see the damage.