Chapter 5 - Annika
I am burning with anger, seething with hatred, and all I can see is red as I pace the floor in this mountain cabin.
Everything around me feels like it's closing in on me, from the mountains outside to the wooden walls of the cabin. My throat itches with dryness that would have been soothed if I had agreed to breakfast.
Groaning, I throw myself onto the bed, arms splayed out above my head, my legs dangling off the side. I hear footsteps again, but I have no fight left in me to look up and calculate another means of escape.
The door opens and shuts within a second, and I stare at the ceiling with a frown. If that was Mr. Ralph, and he's left without a word, I should be relieved that I didn't have to see his beautiful but horrid face again.
If I'm being honest with myself, there was certainly something thrilling about being pinned between a wall and his hot, firm body. Absent-mindedly, my hand roams my midriff, where I'd felt his sizable manhood pressed against me…
“What? No! Ew!” I scold myself, sitting upright and shrugging off that sinful thought as if I'm shaking off the first stirring of the heinous act.
“We're definitely not doing that!” I chide, having watched enough crime documentaries to know that falling for the captor is a surefire way to get yourself in trouble. Really deep trouble..
I'm not letting my guard down.
I have to survive. It's the only way I get out of this place and back to the city so I can see my sister when she's supposed to visit for her college break.
The thought alone is another strike against Henry Ralph, another reason to hate his guts and feel my fingertips tingle with the desperate urge to claw his beautiful, charming eyes out.
What is his plan, anyway? To get me to sign a marriage license, and then what? He can't keep me here forever. He has a company to run, and as far as everyone is concerned, I'm still his assistant.
How is he going to explain me away if he plans on keeping me locked in this cabin?
Grunting, I stand up and drag my feet to the door, where he left a plate of breakfast on the side table. Despite my anger, my tummy rumbles at the sight of food, betraying my heart that wishes to be defiant enough to starve.
Maybe if I passed out from hunger, he'd be forced to take me to a hospital…
Reluctantly, I grab the plate and stuff a miniature croissant in my mouth as I return to the bed. The chances of him caring enough to get me treated if I collapse are slim, because Henry Ralph doesn't have a heart.
I swallow begrudgingly, deciding that the only way to escape him will be by going through with what he wants, at least long enough to make him believe that he has me right where he wants me.
By the time my breakfast plate is empty, and I hear footsteps outside the door again, I don't act impulsively, the way I have been so far.
The door unlocks, and I remain too unbothered to look up, choosing silence as a weapon.
“Annika Singh…?”
Hearing my name from a pleasant voice prompts me to look up curiously, only to find a pretty blonde-haired woman with soft blue eyes staring at me from the doorway.
“H-hi…?”
She breathes out what seems like a sigh of relief before she steps inside fully, carrying a few shopping bags with her.
“It's nice to meet you while you're awake,” she giggles nervously as she closes the door behind her. She lifts the bags and nods toward them. “I brought you some new clothes, now that I know what size you wear.”
Frowning, I remain seated. “And who are you?”
“Anastasia Clarke.” She comes forward and sticks her hand out, so I shake it like this is some kind of business deal.
“Are you Mr. Ralph's new assistant?” I ask with a raised brow, and the woman shakes her head while she giggles.
“I could never replace you, Annika!” she exclaims, waving a hand through the air as she sets the bags on the bed beside me. “I'm just a…a friend.”
My frown deepens because I'm even more confused now. If he isn't replacing me in the company, that means he plans on taking me back there.
But what kind of person goes shopping for her friend's hostage?
Only an accomplice.
“So, you're the one who undressed me, then?”
The woman—Anastasia—steps back and hangs her head bashfully.
“Guilty as charged.” She lifts her hands in a show of surrender. “I'm sorry that you're going through all of this, Annika. But I promise, it will all make sense soon enough.”
She looks up and meets my eyes, and it's as if her blue orbs are hypnotizing gems, because I suddenly feel how calm and soothing her mere presence is. I can't possibly be angry with her, but she's still on his side, and as far as logic goes, she's an enemy.
“What are you doing here? Except to bring me clothes?”
“I'm here to offer an olive branch, in case you need a friend.”
“I don't,” I say quickly, crossing my arms defensively. “What I do need is to get out of here. And unless you're here to offer a way out, we're not friends.”
Anastasia sighs and takes a seat on the bed, lifting a bag into her lap. “I can only imagine what you're going through—”
“You can't.”
“Fair.” She gulps as she lifts her eyes to mine. “I wouldn't know. But things will make sense eventually.”
“Why does it sound like there's a big secret behind any of this?” I snap. “Henry kidnapped me, and he's forcing me to marry him so he saves his ass from marrying some big-shot investor. There's nothing to make sense of, except that my boss is a raging lunatic.”
Anastasia winces as if my words stung her, and I frown, wondering if there's more to this than either of them is letting on.
“You look uncomfortable, Anastasia. Is there something he hasn't told me yet?”
Anastasia gulps, but she shakes her head.
“No. It seems he's told you everything, Annika.
But that's not why I'm here.” She reaches into the bag and pulls out a white silk bundle that she holds out to me.
“I'm just here to give you the dress you're meant to wear tonight. You need to be ready by seven.”
I take the bundle with a force that has it spilling out into a beautiful dress, but I can hardly appreciate it when it signifies a forced agreement.
“If you're his friend, why didn't he just marry you instead of going through all this trouble to kidnap someone who doesn't want to marry him?”
Anastasia clears her throat as she stands up, looking more uncomfortable when she replies, “It's not so simple, Annika. He chose you for a reason.”
“What does that mean?”
“As I said, it will make sense eventually.”
She turns to leave, and that's when I stand up, flinging the dress to the bed. “There's something you're not telling me. What is it?”
She turns reluctantly at the door, her head hanging. “It's not my place, Annika. I'm sorry.”
Anastasia leaves before I can probe her anymore, leaving me more confused than I was before she came in. But I'm also more determined than ever to figure out what the hell is going on.
Or, at least, escape him before I do, because something tells me I'm not going to like whatever it is.
***
Anastasia must have a keen eye, or maybe she used my unconscious state last night to measure with tape, but the silk wedding dress fits perfectly, hugging my body like a second skin.
It's unsettling to see myself in the mirror, and I find it strange that I'm wearing a wedding dress at all. If this is just a contract marriage, then surely I could have signed the papers in a loose T-shirt and jeans.
It's all starting to feel more sinister, and I can't shake the feeling that Henry is involved in something worse than just marriage to save his ass. Something about the cabin in the mountains and this flattering dress is starting to feel very “culty.”
“Am I being sacrificed…?”
My eyes widen as I stare at my reflection, but something inside me snaps, and my resolve returns, and so does my determination to get out of here.
I'm going to go through with this completely detached, unbothered by the merciless charm Henry Ralph possesses, and find my way out of here. Surely, if they've shoved me into a dress to fit some part I'm meant to play tonight, then it means I won't be marrying him in the confines of this bedroom.
My suspicions are proved when Henry walks in, and he barely says a word, his expression schooled into something that appears the way I should be feeling.
Detached. Detached. Detached.
I will not dwell on the way he looks tonight, deliciously dressed in a pristine black suit and a crisp white shirt that pairs perfectly with the way his hair is swept back, only one curl dangling on his forehead like he's the main lead in some movie.
He's still a raging lunatic who kidnapped me to force me into marrying him.
I don't take the hand he holds out to me, and instead brush past him with sharp eyes to observe my surroundings.
But as soon as I step over the threshold, the only thing I'm able to see is the lamp on the wall in the hallway before he grabs my arm and pins me between the doorway and his solid structure.
Oh no…
Here we go again.
The tingly sensations reignite under my skin, my breath turning shallower as I stare into his eyes, counting the specks of gold that I notice now when he's so close.
Only a faint whisper in the back of my mind keeps me sane, keeps me detached, but even that sanity is hanging by the thinnest thread that might snap if I'm not careful.
If he doesn't let me go…
“Where do you think you're going, fearless dove?” Henry purrs, and it takes every ounce of strength not to crumble from the sound of his voice. My knees quiver, and I gulp hard, hanging on to the fine thread of my sanity because I can't lose the fight inside me.
“I told you not to call me th-that…” I whisper, trying to sound fierce and failing when my voice cracks.
Henry catches it nimbly and smirks. “Well, if you don't want me throwing you over my shoulder again, you're gonna behave,” he warns me, with a hint of amusement in his voice that tells me that's exactly what he wants.