Chapter 7
Rafael
I untie her hands after she calms down enough, put the leather aside and instead cuff her right hand to the metal under the seat.
On the return journey, back to where this escape of hers began, she isn’t exactly talkative.
I’m not surprised. Not that this is anything like what Shawn and Zasha did to her but it would have echoes of it.
I plan to keep her happy though, happy and fucked and whatever else I can supply to make this good for her. Sucks to be a generous kidnapper.
Me, I’ve done something I have never done before—taken a woman and made her obey me and agree to a CNC relationship using a form of blackmail. I’m not proud of this but I am totally enthralled.
It’s given me the worst, or best, erection ever. You’d think I was on Viagra.
By the time we pass the property boundary and onto the Somersby Estate, I understand how massive a task I’ve taken on. How do you stop someone from getting away and telling even one other person about her troubles when she will live for decades? I cannot keep her in a box.
Make her want to stay?
There’s the plan then.
Next step, figuring out what she wants.
And if it fails, build a really good box.
I take the left-hand fork of the road further in, which leads me to the smaller house and not the rentable mansion, as Benjamin said it would. This house, though, it’s big and impressive and it’s still a damn mansion.
“Wait there,” I tell Georgia as I exit. I bend over to duck my head back in the door. “And don’t bother yelling you’re being held captive. They know. They do not care.”
God, I hope that’s true. I only met the man a few days ago.
Lights are on in a few rooms in this house. The entry is up a broad set of steps.
Past the circular drive and to the right of this two-story place, the road disappears into the gloom, down an avenue of trees.
Peeking above those trees, a half a mile away, is the rooftop of a Georgian style mansion, lit up from below.
There must be some event happening there.
It could be a wedding, or anything big enough to warrant splashing out on renting that.
Three floors of it, he said, and I’ve no doubt it has a gargantuan ballroom and guest quarters, and probably a stable and a maid fondling room.
I tramp around the front of the BMW, touching the hood, feeling the heat of the engine. Fine grit cracks under my boots. One man descends the wide, flaring stone stairs then heads for us. Light spills from the entry where one wing of the double doors has been propped open.
Somersby uses the bigger mansion as a money spinner. The British aristocracy are on hard times. He should’ve invested in war toys like my family.
“Sir! Rafael Navarro?”
“Yes.” Obviously. Or I wouldn’t be driving Somersby’s car.
“I’m Stephen, the House Manager for Sir Benjamin. We have rooms ready for you both.” His face is set in concrete, and he deliberately avoids looking at Georgia.
“We only need one room. Is your… Is Sir Benjamin able to see us?”
He doesn’t blink at the one-room stipulation.
“He said he will speak to you later, tonight, after you’re ready to do so. A change of clothes is available for you both.”
“Okay.”
As I help Georgia from the car, I notice a second man in a dark suit waiting at the top. A butler perhaps? It might be perspective, but he looks very tall.
I take her hand and she twists her mouth but says nothing. There are red marks on her right wrist, from where the cuff encircled it. I smile and hold her there, then adjust her dress to make sure she doesn’t show off too much bare flesh.
“The keys, sir? I’ll park her for you.”
I drop the keys into his hand.
“No bags, apart from these?” He gestures at the back seat and I shake my head.
“I’ll have them brought to your room.” At another gesture, the second man trots down the stairs to join us.
Our bags are brought out and deposited on the ground and the other man picks them up.
“Lazlo will direct you further. He’s in charge of security, tonight. ”
Security. I assess this huge man with the neat black beard and pony tail while Stephen heads to the driver’s side. Lazlo is well over six-foot tall, and his hands are great plate-sized things. A bear would be proud of those. I shake his hand when he offers.
“Sir, madam, I’m Lazlo, I’ll show you your rooms.”
“Rafael.” I nod.
Georgia clears her throat then mutters, “Georgia.”
“Mmm.” Lazlo’s smile is short and sweet, his appraisal definitely longer than Stephen’s was. “Lovely to meet you, Georgia. I’ll be sitting in on the meeting later. Looking forward to hearing all the details.”
So he knows a lot already. The boat murders, and probably whatever Benjamin knows about her involvement. He barely looks at me and that’s a red flag, considering his knowledge.
“Come.” I tug on her hand and don’t give her the option of refusing. I will have to start trusting her to follow me, eventually, but not yet.
We’re led down a main hallway, past a library with a billiard table in the middle, a lounge room of sorts, a hallway leading to somewhere deeper in. At the far end, a glass door looks out onto a moonlit, leafy courtyard. We reach a stairway and follow Lazlo up this too.
“This way to the first guest bedroom.” He points to the right along the hallway that intersects the top of the stairway.
“There won’t be anyone else taking care of you, for the meantime, due to your unusual circumstances.
” He opens a white paneled door, looks to me then to Georgia.
His thick black eyebrows do a dance. “You’re okay, Miss? ”
I squeeze her hand as she stops dead before the open door.
“Just to explain,” he continues, still blocking the door with his bulk.
“I’m more than Sir Benjamin’s security head.
I’m his friend from a long time ago. Army, police.
Now this. If he wishes to pledge his soul to the devil, I’ll offer him a platter to deliver it with, while also advising him of things like the temperature of hell.
” The smile is unexpected but also huge. “I’m a practical sort of man—”
Ex-police. Fuck. If Benjamin trusts him then I will have to, despite wanting to shove him over the balcony railing we just walked past. I’d need a crane.
“Are you sure you’re supp—” I begin.
“Yes.”
Georgia is fidgeting but I crush her wrist, just enough. Her glare is on fire. I ignore it then decide what the hell as she opens her mouth, and so I plant my palm over her mouth and pull her into my body. “Finish what you’re saying, fast.”
He harrumphs, actually harrumphs, sort of a stifled laugh. “Okay. You’ve got her under duress, against her will?”
Georgia says something through my palm that sounds like, “’uck, yes.”
Pretty sure I translated that correctly. Minus an f.
I nod.
“This is fine, so long as I don’t see anything that shows you are injuring her or about to do so. That won’t be tolerated by me or Sir Benjamin.”
Then Georgia bites my palm. “Fuck.” I remove my hand. “And what if she bites me?”
“That? That I’ll watch. Hehehe.” His baritone laugh might become annoying.
“My final explanation. She has agreed to be with me. And agreed to a CNC relationship.” I sink my finger and thumb into her rear through the dress and slowly close them to pinch that cheek until she hisses.
“Look that up on Google,” I add as he looks curious and tilts one big hairy eyebrow.
“And that includes agreeing to punishment for hurting me. Now, if you’ll excuse us. ”
I push through the doorway, and he steps aside. Trailing me and still caught by the hand is Georgia.
“This meeting?” I throw back to Lazlo. “It’s about how we are finding the killers of his son?”
Straight ahead, past a matching ottoman, there is a king-size bed with a floral quilt. I aim for that, too aware of the sting in my palm. There’s blood showing. She actually broke the skin.
“Yes. And of the others on board the boat.” He leans on the door frame and scratches his beard. “What are you doing?”
“Good. I’m reminding her of her promise.” I sit on the bed, haul her down onto her knees on the floor before me until we’re face-to-face. “Your promise. You want to be in on that meeting?” She frowns. “Well?”
“Yes. But I bit you because you were being an asshole.”
“No. You did it because you thought Lazlo there might make me let you go.” I flick a glance at him where he’s folded his arms and apparently decided to support the doorway permanently. “You going to leave?”
“I’m doing my job.” Again he grins. “I’m making sure this is allowable. If it’s just a spanking?” He shrugs.
This is not what I expect from the head of security in a British stately home.
“What the hell,” I mutter, only to notice Georgia is actually amused at the interaction. So, I drag her up and over my lap, then flip her dress up, baring her, while I bar my arm over her lower back so she can’t get away.
If he wants to watch, I don’t give a damn.
I gather her hair in one hand, fisting it tight, then tighter, until she gasps.
I give her four hard swats on her ass. The sounds of my hand connecting with her skin are obvious and testament to the force I’m using, but Lazlo doesn’t protest. Though she wriggles, she hasn’t made a sound.
My handprints blush redly into existence on her cheeks, including a few smears of my blood.
Which is when I lever up her head using that hand in her hair.