Chapter 14
Sabine
Instead of wallowing in victimhood,I’ve decided to use my rage to cut through the plastic ties that bind my wrists. Having tried every sharp edge in the bedroom (and failed), I’ve moved to the bathroom, where I’m using the corner of the marble vanity.
According to the crystal clock on the armoire, it’s now four in the morning. I am sick with exhaustion. My skin is clammy, my pulse fast, my head swimmy, my stomach turning. I need food, water, and sleep, but know none of that will come until I get out of these restraints.
With every passing hour, I grow more and more angry at the men who took me—and at the one who let me go. Clearly, Carlos is not the man I thought he was. It stings to admit that he threw me away so easily. What a fool I am. I’m both embarrassed and ashamed for being so naive.
I’m close to going into full-on rage mode when the click of the bedroom door lock pulls my attention. I straighten and freeze.
Swift, heavy footsteps cross the hardwood floor.
I expected Cillian. Instead, Astor Stone appears in the bathroom doorway, still wearing his suit and looking as irresistible and smug as ever.
I lunge away from the sink and rush him, my face beet-red from the fury simmering in my veins.
“Get this gag off me,” I shout through the fabric, though the demand is slurred and garbled.
Unaffected by my outburst, Astor regards me closely, sweeping me from head to toe like I’m some rare, newly discovered species he’s trying to figure out. It’s a different look from the one I received when he first saw me at the bar. That one could be summed up in one word: heat. This one is more ... cautious interest.
Under the harsh light of the bathroom, the difference in our ages is even more apparent. In the ballroom, I didn’t notice the silver streaks of gray at his temples or the thin lines around his eyes. Astor Stone is all man—all ego and money and the kind of confidence that only comes from life experience. While I, on the other hand, could very easily pass for his daughter. I wonder if he notices this too.
He pulls a switchblade from his pocket, and with jarring speed and accuracy, slices the gag from my face.
The fabric tumbles down the front of my red dress, and it’s then that I see the hem has ridden all the way up my thighs, stopping just below my ass. God, I hate this dress.
“How dare you.” My lips are dry and numb, my voice like sandpaper. “Who the hell do you think you are? I have done nothing to you—and cut my damn wrists free.”
“I will after you answer a few questions.”
“I’m not answering anything. I don’t deserve any of this. I want no part in whatever’s going on here.”
“You should’ve chosen a better lover then.”
“Lover?” I squeak.
His jaw twitches.
“Lover? You’re talking about Carlos?” A crazed, maniacal laugh bubbles out of me (mildly embarrassing). “Are you serious? I’m his business partner, you idiot—not his lover.”
A perfectly sculpted brow arches, and I get the sense Astor’s not used to being called an idiot. Well, that’s too damn bad. I am a woman who has been pushed an ocean’s length past her limit.
“His business partner?”
“Yes.”
“What kind of business do you two exchange, Miss Hart?”
Hart.He knows my last name. Of course he does.
“That’s another thing.” I want to jab him in the chest with my finger, but my hands are still bound. “How dare you go through my personal things right in front of me. I want my purse and my cell phone back immediately.”
“Not possible, but I can assure you both are safe.”
“If you don’t let me out of here, I’ll escape.”
“Also not possible. Every interior room in this house locks from the outside. Same with the windows.”
Who else has he kept prisoner inside this house?
“Answer my question,” he says. “What kind of business do you and Carlos exchange?”
I hesitate. My place in Carlos Leone’s life is not something I’m prepared to discuss—with anyone. But I’ve spent a lot of time stewing over how Carlos did nothing to help me while Astor held a knife to my throat. So, screw it. Carlos obviously doesn’t value me or my life.
“I handle Mr. Leone’s financials. Confidentially.”
“Bullshit. He’s not on your client roster at Sloane and Associates.”
“That’s correct.” How much does Astor know about my life? “Mr. Leone is not a client of mine. What we do is more, ah, behind the scenes. Off the books. I manage his personal assets.”
“His illegal assets, you mean.”
“Yes.” Defiant, I cock a brow. I highly doubt Billionaire Stone’s tax returns are squeaky clean.
“Explain.”
“Why?”
Astor folds his arms over his chest. The suit fabric pulls against what appears to be a pair of cannons for arms. He’s still holding the knife.
Again, I find myself hesitating, but figure if I give Astor the information he needs, he’ll let me go. Probably. Maybe.
Probably not.
He blinks slowly, his patience waning.
“Mr. Leone hired?—”
“Stop calling him that. The man kidnapped my wife.”
“So, you two have a lot in common, then,” I deadpan.
“Insulting me is only going to get you gagged again, Miss Hart.”
“Fine. Carlos hired me to manage and handle his assets—he’s terrible with money. I am the only person in the world who has total access to all of his financial accounts. I set them up, manage them, manipulate them as it serves him, et cetera.”
“Who is Blum and Levy, Inc.?”
“A shell corp that I set up for him that he pays me through—which you already know, obviously.”
“So, if what you’re saying is true, you could empty every one of his bank accounts with a few clicks of a keyboard.”
“It’s more complicated than that, but yes, I could send him into bankruptcy, if that’s where you’re going with this.”
“Or you could send him to jail if you testified against him.”
“And send myself, for that matter, so that’s never an option. I willingly signed on to work for him, fully understanding what it meant.”
“Why? Why knowingly accept a job that could get you in trouble?”
“That’s none of your business, is it?”
Astor’s dark eyes squint, assessing me. He has a way of making me feel small, like I’m standing naked before him.
And why does this turn me on, this over-the-top dominant masculinity? Something about this man makes me hot as hell, igniting an unnatural desire I’ve never felt before. One that makes me want to do very stupid, very bad, very deliciously sexual things to him.
What the hell is wrong with me? My blood sugar must be negative zero. That’s the only logical explanation.
“I’m sure Carlos has restricted your access to his accounts by now,” Astor says, pulling me from my highly inappropriate thoughts.
“That’s impossible.”
“Why?”
“Only I know the passwords.”
A heavy silence settles between us. Him assessing, assessing, assessing. Me lusting, lusting, lusting.
Get it together, Sabine.
I tilt my head to the side. “What are your intentions with me?”
“In simple terms? To use you, Miss Hart.”
To use me.
“Turn around,” he demands before I can speak. When I don’t, his voice takes a sharper edge. “I said, turn around.”
Like a dog in training, I obey, slowly turning like a ballerina on a spindle.
Using his knife, he cuts the binds that secure my wrists. The moment the plastic falls from my skin, I spin around and slap him across the face. The sharp pop of skin against skin echoes against the bathroom walls.
I’m as shocked as he is. I don’t know why I did it other than I’m hangry, overwhelmed, and out-of-my-mind confused, all at once. I’ve never hit another person in my life.
There is the briefest flash of surprise, but just as quickly, his eyes narrow. As if someone flipped a switch inside him, his expression heats like fire. Now he’s looking at me the way he did when we first saw each other—times ten.
He begins flexing his fingers, shifting his weight. The cool, composed Astor Stone is gone. What stands before me now is a wild animal sizing up its prey—and I’m in trouble.
“You cannot keep me here against my will,” I say, growing increasingly alert and wary of the sudden shift in him. “I will not be bait in a ridiculous game between two men with egos as large as their bank accounts. I want nothing to do with you, or with this.”
My pulse kicks up as my emotions begin to boil over.
“You’ve kept me restrained for hours. I haven’t been able to eat, drink, or pee this whole time. My God, I could eat a cow right now—no, an entire family-size bag of potato chips. I could drink a gallon of water, and I have a godawful headache. You are going to jail for this, do you know that? You kidnapped me ...”
Though Astor is looking at me, he’s not listening to a word I’m saying. His expression has gone so dark that goose bumps ripple my arms, so intense that the hairs on the back of my neck stand up.
I stop talking and stand totally still.
Slowly, he steps forward like a lion about to pounce. My instinct is to run, but instead, I hold my own.
My entire body braces for whatever is about to come, but nothing could have prepared me for what he says next.
“Slap me again.”
I blink, rendered speechless by the request. Slap him again? The man wants me to slap him again? What the bloody hell?
“Slap me,” he growls, his black-as-night eyes boring into mine. His chest is beginning to rise and fall heavily.
I’ve triggered something in him, something dangerous, something uncontrollable.
Something exciting.
His body begins to tremble. I feel the pheromones pouring off him.
“Again,Sabine.”
The moment my palm connects with his face, his eyes flash with feral electricity. He grabs my shoulders, spins me around, and slams my back against the glass shower wall. My head bounces off the pane, the breath knocked out of my lungs.
I gasp as he pins my wrists above my head.