“Is there a problem?” The beautiful man holding my leash asked in flawless English, his face giving nothing away as to his mood.
I look around, weighing my options, and my gaze caught on Mr. Grey. He was still at his table with the security guard standing over him, but his eyes felt like they were burning holes through my skin as he glared. My breathing spiked as a wave of terror threatened to engulf me, determined to drag me into the undertow of my childhood trauma. Whatever this stranger had in store for me, it had to be better than being back at his mercy once more.
I pasted on a tight, brittle smile as I turned back to my captor. Shaking my head because I still didn’t trust my ability to make words, I glared once more at the leash in his broad, clenched fist.
“I know what you’re thinking, and the answer is no, I cannot remove the collar. Rules of the auction house. Please…” He gestured once more in the direction of the exit, and this time I did as I was told. Just like a good little slave. Because I would rather be a willing slave for the rest of my life than let Mr. Grey get so much as one finger on my skin.
My stunning new owner fell into step alongside me, his men fanning out around the two of us in a smooth, practiced formation as we made our way into a dark underground parking lot.
Without wanting to appear too obvious, I covertly monitored the security team’s movements as they swept the garage for threats, then cleared the black armored SUV before holding the door open for us. The way they moved screamed out years of practice and training, which didn't bode well for my future escape attempt.
“Dupa tine,” my companion said with a brittle smile and indicated for me to precede him into the car. I flushed uncomfortably under his storming, silver gaze and quickly tried to duck into the vehicle, only to be pulled up short by the leash still clenched in his fist. I let out a strangled yelp and caught my balance against the door frame as my ridiculous shoes wobbled dangerously.
“?mi cer scuze, frumoas?,” the intimidating man murmured from behind me, stepping in close and brushing his hand across the back of my neck as he unbuckled the collar for me. I raised a hand to rub my now naked neck and turned my face to look at my captor. Good God, he was even more handsome up close. Life wasn't fair. I frowned, noticing for the first time since waking up that the arching pain in my chest had eased.
“Thanks,” I muttered, my words still a little slurred but decipherable. “What did that mean?”
He tilted his head to the side, inspecting my face with an intensity that made me squirm. “Just apologizing.”
I nodded in lieu of anything smarter to say and hopped into the back seat of the SUV. When he followed me inside and saw me pasted to the furthest possible position from him, his handsome face lit up in an amused grin that he made no attempt to hide.
“Relax,” he told me, infuriatingly. As if I could relax! “Don't give me that look. I understand you're a little… scared, right now. But we have a long journey back to my home, so you may as well relax for now. Pick your battles wisely, drag?.”
My temper bristled at his words. “I am not scared,” I lied, my eyes narrowing. “And what do you mean ‘pick my battles wisely’?”
“Hush, I have business to conduct.” He pulled his phone from the pocket of his coat, which he had already taken off before getting in the car. I tried not to see the strain of his cotton shirt across heavy muscles as I considered my odds of getting help by yelling and screaming while he made a call.
“Don’t bother,” he answered my unspoken plan with a tiny smile pulling at his lips. “The people I am calling do not give a fuck if you’re here against your will.”
Was I that obvious?
He dismissed me with a wave of his hand and made his call, spending the next twenty minutes on the phone speaking in his foreign language. It sounded different from the Russian that the guards had spoken but also somewhat similar, so I guessed it to be from somewhere in the same general region.
He hung up as the car was slowing to a stop outside what appeared to be a small airport, the type that my adoptive Dad, Jonathan, used when travelling on his private jet. A heavy wad of fabric landed in my lap, drawing my attention away from the scenery and back to my new owner. I raised my eyebrows at him in question.
“Put that on. It’s freezing outside,” he ordered, indicating his own cashmere wool coat that he had tossed to me. I glanced outside again and saw snow dusting the low shrubs near the edge of the car park. So we must still be in the Northern Hemisphere. That really narrows it down.
Not stupid enough to risk hypothermia, just in case an escape opportunity presented itself, I meekly pulled the coat onto my arms and fastened the buttons. As I tugged the collar up around my neck, I caught his scent on the fabric and frowned to myself at how similar it was to Cole's. Both of them had a distinct scent of fire, but while Cole reminded me of smoky campfire embers, this guy was spicy and hot like a blazing bonfire.
“Did you just smell my coat?” His words cut across my musing, and I froze, my face flushing hot with embarrassment.
“Definitely not,” I lied again, staring out the heavily tinted window at the small plane, which had just landed.
“Mm-hmm,” he murmured, and from the corner of my eye I could see a smirk on his rugged face. His gray eyes laughed at me, and I felt my face flame brighter.
I turned my attention back to my surroundings while we sat there and waited for who knew what. We were at an airport, which meant flying somewhere. I desperately did not want to fly anywhere. While I didn’t have any idea where we were already, something told me I stood a much better chance of escape here. His men had accompanied us in two more cars, but other than them, there must also be airport personnel. If we were flying internationally, then surely there would be some form of government official as well? If I could get clear of the goons long enough to reach an airport official, surely they would help me.
“I don't know why you're smiling right now,” he commented, dragging my attention back to his imposing form. “I'm not sure I'd be so happy if it were me that had just been sold into slavery. Each to their own, I suppose.”
I wiped off the smile that I hadn't realized I was wearing and glared back at him. The last thing I needed was to make him suspicious.
At the signal from one of his goons, he opened the car door and slid out, leaving me with one of his guards while he strutted confidently towards the aircraft where two uniformed pilots waited.
I immediately spotted my opportunity.
7