We glared; silence was a heavy entity between us.
He was right. I was so, so stupid. He’d successfully hurt me more than anyone since my mother left. His callousness gave no room for hope or tears. And I knew it all along. I’d seen his coldness. I’d felt his hardened will. Yet it didn’t stop me from being an utter fool.
Grabbing a puddle of cloth, I yelled, “Leave me alone!”
“Goddammit, you’re testing me.” He ducked suddenly, grabbing my bicep and hauling me to my feet. He shook me—hard. My corset dug into my hipbones now that it had no bustle or layers to rest upon.
“You don’t get to ask any more questions. You don’t get to yell or act ridiculous. This is happening. This is your future. Nothing you say or do will change that—it will only change the level of pain you receive.” He shoved me backward against his bike. “Your dress is conveniently no longer an issue. Get on. We’re leaving.”
Fury exploded through my heart, thankfully keeping my terror at bay.
Don’t think about his threat. Focus on making him yell. Loudness. I needed commotion to garner attention and safety. The more nuisance I made, the more likely someone would come to my rescue.
“You just ruined my showpiece. That dress was already sold to a high-end boutique in Berlin! You think I want to go anywhere with you after you ruined over two months’ worth of work? You’re insane. I’ll tell you how this is going to go—”
“Ms. Weaver, shut the fuck up. I’m done with this charade.” His face remained impassive, but the muscles beneath his suit bristled. Moving horribly fast, he tugged my long, unfettered hair, crowding me against his bike. Wincing against the pain in my scalp, I tripped, splaying over the leather seat.
Looking around quickly, he relaxed when he noticed we were still alone. “If you knew me, you’d know how I react to incorrect statements about my mental health. If you were smart, you would know never to raise your voice and to maintain proper conduct in public.”
He bowed his head, brushing his nose threateningly against my ear. “But seeing as you don’t know me, I’ll withhold the punishment—for now. But a word of warning, Ms. Weaver. Just because I don’t lower myself to the unattractive use of volume, doesn’t mean I’m not pissed. I’m very fucking pissed. I gave you an order, and you’ve disobeyed numerous times already. This is the last time I’ll ask politely.”
Pulling away, he grabbed my middle and with strength that terrified, plucked me from the ground and plonked me on the back of his bike, side-saddle.
Giving a mock salute, Jethro said, “Thank you for obliging me. I’m so glad you decided to climb aboard.” With a scowl, he noticed my high heels. Dropping to one knee, he tore them off my feet, throwing them over his shoulder. They disappeared in the clouds of decimated fabric behind him.
I truly was Cinderella, only my prince threw away the glass slipper and stole me away before midnight struck. My prince was evil. My prince was the villain.
I couldn’t breathe.
Run. Kick him. Do not let him take you.
All manner of horrible situations ran wild in my head. I’d been brought up in a safe neighbourhood, instilled with common-sense and morals. Yet nothing had prepared me to fight for my life against a lunatic who came across as sane.
“You can’t do this. I don’t want to go with you.” I tried to jump off, but Jethro’s sleek bulk prevented me from moving. He loomed upright like a terrible sentence—a judgement of my past and present. “You have no choice. You’re coming with me. Your wishes have no relevance.”
Stabbing him in the chest with my fingertip, I shouted, “My wishes are completely relevant. You can’t take me against my will. That’s called kidnapping.” My body flushed with hot anger. “Let. Me. Go. Before I scream.”
Vaughn. Shit, I wanted my brother. The amount of times he protected me growing up from bees, and badgers, and boys who picked on me at school.
Vaughn!
Jethro shook his head. “It’s too late. For any of that. And don’t scream. I don’t do well with screamers.” He chuckled mirthlessly. “Unless I’m the reason for said scream and we’re in private.”
I ignored the ‘scream topic’ and focused on the horrible ultimatum. Too late? What’s too late? I wasn’t on some countdown where my life ended as I knew it. I didn’t agree to any of this!
I didn’t, but maybe father did.
The thought stopped me like a knitting needle to the heart. He’d introduced me to Jethro—over any other man. He’d encouraged me to go with him—against my brother’s wishes.
Jethro might’ve been able to hoodwink my father, but I saw his true colours, and I wasn’t going to tolerate it any longer. This fiasco had gone on long enough.
I opened my mouth to scream. I was done being scared and manipulated by a soft-spoken psychopath. I wanted normal. I wanted a shower and the sweet oblivion of sleep.
My lungs expanded with a plea. “Help—”
Jethro lashed out, slapping a cool palm over my lips. The first sign of uncontrollable emotion blazed in his eyes. He sighed heavily, shaking his head. “I’d hoped you’d be more intelligent than that.”
I slapped him.
The sharp ringing of flesh against flesh froze time. I didn’t move or breathe or blink. Neither did Jethro.
We stared at each other until all I knew was gold from his eyes. The air dropped from autumn to blustery winter the longer we glowered, freezing over with his temper. It could’ve been a second or ten, but it was Jethro who broke the brittleness between us.
His cold fingers trailed from my mouth to my throat. Wrapping tight. Unforgiving. The action showed the truth—the inhuman truth. This man was fastidiously groomed and softly spoken, but beneath it all raged a devil in disguise. His touch told endless information of the man he tried to hide. He was the ultimate in camouflage.