Chapter 3 - Annika
Within the safe confines of my office, I can finally breathe—even if it’s momentarily, long enough to gather my thoughts.
Marry Henry Ralph? Marry my boss?
What the hell has gotten into him? Has he lost his mind?
I don’t care about some deal he’s trying to cut. I don’t care that someone else is trying to marry him. I won’t marry that asshole if he’s the last man on Earth!
Running my fingers through my hair, I feel his looming presence in the hallway before I hear his footsteps, and I decide to gather my composure before he catches me losing my mind in my office.
The last thing I need is to give him the satisfaction of disrupting my peace, and even though it’s been shattered, I’d rather die than let him know that.
That’s why I’m back at my desk, behind my computer, acting busy by the time he returns to his office.
I don’t even look up from the screen, typing nonsense on a blank screen, adding a few curses directed at him as if I’m a witch typing out spells like a recipe book.
Doing redundant tasks seems to be working, and I even make a note to call my sister once I’m home.
I can’t wait for her to hear all about this!
The knock on my door startles me, I’m so focused on keeping my mind off him, and I’m afraid that it’s him at the door. But when I look up, I find Melissa there, and I call her inside.
Much to my relief, she brings in work that doesn’t need Mr. Ralph’s signature or nod of approval. I spend the rest of the morning with my head in my books until it’s time for me to make a routine check with my boss.
But by the time lunch rolls around. Mr. Ralph walks out of his office and briefly stops at Melissa’s desk before proceeding to the elevator. Frowning, I get up from my desk and meet Melissa in the hallway.
“Mr. Ralph just left the office,” she informs me, and I stifle the urge to go “Duh!” and roll my eyes.
“Did he say where he’s going?” I ask instead, and Melissa just shrugs.
“He just said he won’t be coming back for the rest of the day.”
I nod slowly, lifting my eyes to the elevator and picturing him behind the closed doors, and shiver when I feel his anger lingering in the spot as if he left it behind.
Of course, he’s angry. I just straight-up said no to marrying him. But what was he expecting? That I’d fawn and fall to my knees and swoon over his proposal?
Mr. Henry Ralph is many things, but a suitable husband is far from among them.
Even if it’s just a legal marriage, he’d make my life a living hell, and I am not willing to sign my life away like that.
With him gone for the rest of the day, at least I can concentrate without constantly having to look over my shoulder or hear his absurd words playing in my head.
***
The drive home is pleasant, my window rolled down, my favorite music blasting through the speakers, and my carefree shoulders bouncing to the beat. I’m singing at the top of my lungs, oblivious to the after-work traffic, riding the high that doesn’t involve my boss and his shenanigans.
“...Just making my way, making a way, through the cro—owd!!” I sing freely, tapping the steering wheel before turning on the blinker to signal a left turn at the traffic light.
The black car behind me does the same, and I notice it when I catch a glimpse of the rearview mirror. I shrug, continuing with the song, because there is nothing that will bring me down after the day I had.
I will not let Mr. Ralph steal my peace, and I have taken the rest of the day to bring my power back to center, back to myself, because that whole proposal was utterly ridiculous.
I finally pull up to my apartment building, leaving the residue and remnants of a strange day at the boom gates when I enter the parking garage.
The darkness envelops me in a way that isn’t sinister, but familiar and welcoming, and I breathe out a sigh of relief as soon as I neatly slide into my parking spot.
Cutting the engine, I drop my forehead to the steering wheel and roll the windows up as the silence follows, and I shrug off the weight of the day like a ritual. Every day is practically the same, but today’s weight feels heavier, and the bottle of wine in my fridge whispers my name.
So does a hot bath and my bed.
“Ooh, bed…” I mutter, lifting my head when the little light from the lamp at the entrance of the building goes out, prompting me to turn my face to the window, only to find a face I was hoping I’d seen the last of at lunchtime today.
“Mr. Ralph…?” I mutter in disbelief, straightening up when he taps on the window with one brow arched expectantly.
I have so many questions, like what is he doing here? Why is he here? Is he stalking me?
I roll the window down again. “Mr. Ralph? Is everything okay?”
He grunts as he takes a step back, a sinister glint in his usually cool eyes, and of course, it’s there. The devil himself just popped out of nowhere to disrupt my peace all over again, like his proposal this morning wasn’t enough!
He doesn’t lean down again, leaving me to stare at his waist and the prominent bulge between his thighs. Gulping hard, I pull the handle, forcing him to take a step back to allow me to get out of the car.
This is awkward, I think as I step out and straighten my blazer, noticing the disoriented look in his eyes, his brown curls disheveled as if he’s been drinking.
Except there’s no pungent smell of liquor when he opens his mouth to speak.
“I’m sorry, Annika,” he begins, and my brows knit to a tight frown.
“For what?” I ask, pointedly avoiding the topic he might be referring to because truthfully, it is beyond Henry Ralph to apologize for anything, even if he’s wrong.
“For this…” he says, taking a step forward and intruding on my personal space with the rather intoxicating scent of his cologne that I’ve come to despise. Confusion hits like a tidal wave sent to knock me off my feet, and there’s a flicker of fear stirring in my chest.
Is he about to kiss me without consent?
My fight instincts kick in, but it’s too late when he cups a hand over my mouth, and a metallic taste spreads from my nostrils down to my throat, weakening my knees with a force that’s stronger than any unwanted kiss would have been.
My vision blurs before it blacks out, and my body crumples into nothingness.
***
My mouth feels disgustingly dry when I stir awake from what feels like a horrible nightmare. I open my eyes to blinding light that hits me like a punch to my gut, and it takes some time for me to get my senses in order before I can open my eyes fully.
That was a crazy dream. Well, a nightmare, in which I’d blacked out after Mr. Ralph appeared to stalk me and press a hand over my mouth.
But “crazy” doesn’t even cut it when my eyes are finally open, and the smell of pine warns me that I’ve taken a breath in an unfamiliar space. The log beams above my head are completely different from the white squares in my apartment, and that’s when realization hits me like a freight train.
The nightmare was real.
Henry Ralph followed me to my apartment building. He did tap on my window. A hand flies to my throat, the metallic taste still evident there. He pressed something to my mouth, and I passed out.
He kidnapped me.
Henry Ralph, my boss, kidnapped me.
The realization jolts me upright, and I throw myself off the bed that isn’t mine, glaring at it accusingly, surprised by the cool air that brushes my skin.
My blazer is gone. So is my shirt, and the tailored slacks of the suit I was wearing. I’m dressed in a silk nightgown, which only means one thing.
“No…no…no…” I whisper in horror, my heart pounding as I lift the hem to find the same underwear I wore with the suit intact, and no sign of intrusion there. Still, my clothes have changed, which means he’s seen me in my underwear.
Anger simmers beneath my skin, my vision turning a frightening shade of red as I snap my head around in every direction. I charge for the door immediately, only to discover that it’s locked. I’m fuming at this point, crossing the room to the window and throwing the curtain open.
Mountains. Mountains everywhere.
I’m smack in the middle of mountains that stretch for miles ahead and above me, and my jaw drops.
“What the fuck…?” I murmur. Where has Henry Ralph taken me? And what is he planning on doing to me here, in the middle of nowhere?
The tips of my fingers begin to tingle as I stare at the mountains, feeling like they’re closing in on me, my breath turning shallow as if I’m suffocating.
Oh, no…
No…
I haven’t had a panic attack since high school…
My heart is racing again, hammering in my chest, when I hear movement at the door.
The approach of footsteps, the clinking of keys, and then the creak of the hinges as the door opens.
I turn slowly, quickly pulling myself together with fight instincts, taking the wheel, and I run toward the door, slamming into it with as much force as I can.
The ensuing chaos doesn’t have the desired effect I was hoping for, and instead of a neat escape, two strong hands grip my wrists and I’m pushed back into the room, the door shutting with a nimble thud as if a foot was used to kick it.
I didn’t even realize my eyes were squeezed shut to brace for the impact until I opened my eyes and found Mr. Ralph breathing in my face, eyes dark and heavy.
A whimpering squeal escapes my lips from something that feels like fear, dread, and anger all mixed in one.
What’s most shocking is the blinker of anticipation, as if I’m looking forward to feeling his lips crush mine when his eyes flit there.
My heart hammers while my chest fills with his scent, and I can barely form a coherent thought while I’m arrested by the smell of Sauvage and its savage wearer pinning my wrists against the wall. I wish my breaths weren’t so shallow, and my chest wasn’t heaving right under his nose.
“Let me go…” I grate out through gritted teeth, my voice as tight as my chest when I suck in a breath.
The man standing in front of me is the man I hate, not worthy of my body’s reaction to him. So close, his hot breath doesn’t just fan my face, but it enters my pores, making it nearly impossible to hang onto a semblance of my sanity.
I must be going insane—as insane as Henry Ralph when he decided to propose marriage to me. Or went as far as kidnapping me and keeping me a prisoner in some cabin in the mountains.
He doesn’t even heed my warning, barely flinching or even batting his eyes—as he always seems to remain unbothered—and the corner of his lips turns up like he’s smirking.
What a cocksure, self-centered, conceited bastard! Is he taking pleasure in me trying to wriggle free of his forceful grip? Is he taking pleasure in kidnapping me?
He’s sick and twisted, deranged.
He finally lets me go, releasing my wrists and holding both hands up like he’s surrendering.
I scoff and straighten my spine, dusting my sweaty palms on the nightdress that isn’t mine.
I clear my throat before raising my head and meeting his eyes, hiding the effect of how his touch left me feeling tingly in places I’m not willing to admit, and I’m sure I look angry instead of flustered.
“How did I get here? And into this?” I ask bluntly, gesturing to the nightdress.
Henry takes a step back, stroking his chin with one hand as if he’s sizing me up. “I did what I had to do to get you here, Miss Singh. And I didn’t change your clothes. I promise.”
“I don’t believe a thing you have to say, Mr. Ralph. So you can save your promises for—”
“You’re gonna have to start calling me by my first name, Annika,” he purrs, as if he’s trying to be seductive.
My stomach churns, and I fight the urge to throw up. “I don’t care. I just want to go home.”
Henry takes a deep breath, straightens up, and crosses his arms. “That’s not possible, Annika. We are still going through with the marriage.”
I frown, school my face into a straight expression, then frown again when Henry doesn't even blink, staring at me calmly.
“You're forcing me into it? So that means I don't have a choice?”
“You never had a choice,” he shrugs nonchalantly. “There were only two options,” he says as he lifts two fingers. “Either you agreed to it willingly, or you didn't. You chose the latter, so I did what I needed to do.”
“You're crazy.”
“Maybe.”
“A madman. You're insane.”
Henry chuckles, the sound bitterly cold. “It doesn't change what needs to happen here, Annika. We will be married tonight.”
My jaw drops. “T-tonight…?” I stammer, shaking my head slowly in disbelief. “That's impossible. I don't want to marry you, Mr. Ralph. You can't abduct me and force me into marrying you.”
“I can, and I will. You don't have a choice,” he repeats smoothly, while I'm fuming inside, enraged by what's happening, blowing a couple of fuses because of his calmness about it all.
“Once I get out of here, I'm going to the authorities,” I threaten, lifting a curled fist. “You'll lose the company. You'll lose everything.”
Henry does the unthinkable when he grins and stalks forward, like a predator, his greenish-blue eyes twinkling beneath the veil of his thick brown lashes, head cocked to one side as he comes closer.
“You can threaten me all you want, Annika, but once we're married, once I've made you mine,”—he reaches out with a hand toward my cheek, but I recoil, pulling back so he can't touch me—“you will see that this was meant to be. It was fated.”
My face twists when I feel the acrid bile rising in my throat, and I think I throw up a little in my mouth.
“I really think you've lost it, Mr. Henry Ralph.”
While Henry stares at me with a certain curiosity in his twinkling eyes, I'm already plotting an escape plan.
My hand is behind my back, searching for the candlestick on the nightstand.
I wrap my fingers around the metal like I'm securing a weapon, and hold his gaze long enough that he doesn't suspect that I'm about to fight him.
I'm already fighting myself, my mind battling against my senses that are swarmed with the spiciness and clean masculine scent of his cologne. My fingers tingle with the adrenaline pulsing through my veins as I stand facing my captor, my enemy, the man who demands I marry him.
He's about to go down.