CHAPTER NINE
KYRA
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How many emotions are there? Like in total? Because I’m almost certain I’ve experienced all of them a dozen times over in the past day.
Fear.
Anger.
Confusion.
Sadness
Frustration.
The worst? Arousal.
Never in my life did I ever think I’d be kidnapped. I mean, being Derek Fox’s daughter and the heiress to Fox & Co., there was always a small chance, but it seemed unlikely.
Especially now I’m an adult.
Something my kidnapper, who closely resembles an angry Henry Cavill, could do with acknowledging. He’s no Superman, that’s for sure.
What sort of evil person takes someone’s freedom from them just because she’s marrying his father?
Clearly, he has daddy issues.
When he asked why I was marrying Pierce, glaring at me with those menacing eyes, I wasn’t going to answer. Not that he gave me the chance. He can think whatever he wants. I’m sure it makes no difference.
Although I would like to know what his motivations are.
Is it money he wants?
Will my father or Pierce pay?
I wonder if Penny knows I’m missing yet. If only she’d been able to speak with her cousin Chad and if only I’d been able to hide at his place in the Hamptons. The last thing she told me was that he was skiing in Switzerland.
Damn it.
I walk to the window and stare out at the Manhattan skyline. I’ve figured out where we are. I know this city inside and out, having grown up here. Across from me is Columbus Circle, so we must be on Billionaire Row.
Not surprised.
Maddox is clearly a wealthy man like his father.
And insane.
I hear a noise outside my room. It’s been quiet all day, except for the housekeeper. I make out voices so I quickly cross the room and put my ear to the door.
Men.
More than two.
My body tenses, wondering what this means. Do they know I’m here? Is Maddox with them?
“Ouch.” I wince as I press my bandaged hand on the doorframe.
The voices go quiet about ten minutes later and I turn my back to the door, then slide down to the floor. Resting my head back, I close my eyes.
What am I going to do?
He’s right, I can’t smash the windows. I probably couldn’t anyway, and if I was successful, I’d fall to my death.
Tears prickle my eyes.
I’m a prisoner here, but next week I’ll be trapped in a marriage to a man I don’t like. Assuming Maddox lets me go.
The only glimmer of hope I have is that Pierce is aware of his insane son and has worked out where I am, or that the authorities are looking for me and will eventually negotiate my release.
Surely, he can’t want money. He doesn’t appear to need it. Unless he’s in financial trouble. Perhaps Pierce removed him from his will. This must be some disagreement with his father. I wonder if I can promise him something if he lets me go. I have to try.
What is his plan for me?
To kill me if he doesn’t get his way?
Maddox doesn’t look like a killer. Then again, neither did Ted Bundy. God, why do I know so much about psychopaths? Damn Netflix.
Oh...another idea takes form and I start to question my own sanity. I may not have slept with many men in my life, but I know desire when I see it.
I could seduce him.
You have zero seduction skills, idiot.
I frown into the empty room.
That’s when I hear the footsteps. My head shoots up and next minute I’m catapulted across the floor and slam into a cabinet.
“What the hell are you doing sitting on the floor?” Maddox growls from the doorway as I scramble to my feet, nursing my hand and rubbing my shoulder.
“Don’t you knock?” I snap.
“You're my fucking prisoner. I’m not asking for your permission to enter.” He glares.
Fair call.
“Still,” I mutter and walk to the bed, sitting on the end.
That really did hurt.
“How's your hand?” He shuts the door behind him, and suddenly, the room feels ridiculously small.
His enormous frame fills the space, and I tug in a breath, searching for my best seductive move now that I've decided that's my best chance of getting out of here.
I come up blank. I have no moves.
“Sore.” I blink, awkwardly trying to flutter my eyes. “Same as my shoulder now, thank you very much.”
Maddox narrows his own eyes as he walks over, then crouches before me.
“Is your hand infected?” As he unwraps the bandage, my gaze roams his broad shoulders and the way his black shirt pulls taunt against his muscular arms.
God, he’s a very good-looking man.
I see a few tattoos peeking out of his shirt and swallow audibly.
Ugh. Hopefully, he thinks it’s because he’s hurting my hand. Not making my panties moist.
His sharp jawline has a dusting of dark whiskers, and my fingers twitch, wanting to reach out and touch them. Maybe I should. Fuck , I don’t know.
When I glance back up, he’s watching me.
“What are you doing?” His brows are bunched.
“Nothing,” I squeak. “You’re just...” Christ. “ Very handsome." Then I smile, flutter my eyelashes and kind of push my breasts out.
“You look like you’re having a seizure. Stop it.”
“That’s rude.”
He stands and waves his hand around. “Whatever this is, forget it. I’m not a sexually frustrated man who is going to fall for your...let’s call them charms, to be kind.”
Bastard.
My mouth is gaping as he strides out of the room and bangs the door closed behind him.
“Kind?!” I yell after him. “I bet you don’t even know how to be kind!”
It’s a wasted effort, but I feel better getting it out of my system.
I can’t help but agree with him. I’ve never flirted with a man in my life. And if I hadn’t been sitting down, I probably would have toppled over.
Ugh.
My plan might need some tweaking. I’m not giving up.
I’m not a sexually frustrated man.
So, he has a girlfriend or dates a lot, then. Or more likely, he sleeps with a lot of women. Another reason I don’t want to encourage him to touch me.
But I do want him to.
I glance down at myself and take in the black sweatpants and matching sweater I’m wearing. Clothes Maddox has provided me.
Why do I need to change?
I stand, ignoring my aches and pain, and open the closet. He spared no expense when purchasing the wide selection. It freaks me out when I consider how long he thinks I will be here.
Let’s call them charms.
Damn him. I’m not giving up my seduction escape strategy. Mostly because it’s the only one I have, but also because I still think it can work.
Maybe.
Dragging some hangers aside, I browse through the dresses and find a green one with a low neckline.
That will do.
I quickly shower, slap on some makeup and make my eyes smoky. It’s subtle, but enough to catch his attention.
Then I slide on a pair of black silk panties and a matching bra—all in my exact size, which is creepy as fuck—and then step into the dress.
I’m pulling up the zipper when the door opens. Our eyes connect in the mirror, and I almost grin at his glower. Something has irritated him and I think it might be me. Perhaps he’s not as immune to me now that I’m all dressed up.
What he doesn’t know about me is that I’ve survived a life of being controlled already.
I’m not the princess he thinks I am.
I also know I’m a beautiful woman. I might not be overly confident and seductive, but I can learn. If it means saving my life and getting free, I will work it out.
I turn, step into the black Prada heels, run my hands down the dress and walk to Maddox, stopping at his chest.
“What’s for dinner?”
The deep grumble in his chest gives me the first flicker of hope.