6. Be a good girl, or be drugged?

Dymond 

I still can't wrap my head around the fact that I have been locked up by Nile, that psychotic billionaire.

I let out screams and with my fists clenched, I frantically pound on the hard steel door yelling obscenities but my cries seemed to fall on deaf ears as the door remained unyielding.

My screams echo in the silence, boring through the depth of my distress and at this moment I was the perfect picture of despair and helplessness.

I knew I couldn't afford to stay in one place for a long time especially not after my failed attempt to steal Nile's diamond and Greg constantly keeping tabs on me. I can feel Greg's sinister presence closing in on me. He's been stalking me for months now, and I know he'll stop at nothing to silence me. 

This room might act as a temporary refuge, but I know it won't be enough to keep him out. Soon, he'll walk through the door and finally end my desperate struggle for survival.

Greg is coming, I can feel it and I know he's close.

But I will never let him get close enough to harm me or close at all and the very first step is getting the hell out of here.

As the reality of my captivity set in, I knew I had to think fast. I surveyed the room, searching for any possible means of escape but there was none in sight.

“Nile, that son of a bitch.”

I quietly curse under my breath as I move my eyes frantically searching for any opening but find none, not even the windows could be forced open. 

Every possibility of escape sealed off. I'm trapped in this room with no escape in sight. My only option was to wait until an opportunity presents itself.

I walk slowly to sit on the sofa in the corner of the room, my mind racing with plans to escape. But before I could put my determination into action, the steel door slid open and a man in his late forties appeared before me, his expression unreadable. 

He is dressed in a simple white shirt and black pants, and his calm demeanour puts me on edge. He walks in with a tray in hands and walks over to the table in the centre of the room.

“Your dinner is served.” He bowed, “I'll be right outside the door if you need anything.”

Without another word, he turned and walked out the door.

As I approach the tray, I'm shocked by the delicious-looking meal. The aroma of roasted vegetables and spices fills the air, making my mouth water. The food is beautifully presented, with each dish carefully arranged. I am suddenly reminded of my empty stomach.

After all, I need food if I want to escape from here and heal up quickly.

I immediately start eating and in a couple of minutes I'm done. Almost immediately, as if being timed, the staff who had brought my meal walked back in.

Now that I am a bit more calm, I can notice the ostentatious display of wealth both on the worker, and the very room I was in. Hell, even the damn cutlery on the food tray was extremely high quality.

Nile fucking Garres, really was a billionaire. Especially if he could steal me from a hospital, no questions asked. It was terrifying.

“I hope you enjoyed your meal.” He says methodologically, gathering the plates. “A nurse will be here soon to check on your bruises. I'm sure you will take your drugs as well as you are your food.”

What am I? A child?

I scoff, “Who even are you? And where is your prick of a boss?”

“I’m Joe.” He answers, with a slight smile. “And I believe Mr. Garres has your wellbeing in mind.”

I narrow my eyes at him not believing his lies for even a second. Not only did I have to deal with my psychopath ex, now I have a psychopath billionaire who only released me to toy with my feelings and fool me, just to lock me back up. I should have known he would do something like this, after I refused to beg for my release.

“How long have you worked for him, Joe?” I ask, instead.

“A while.”

“You have to let me out of here, Joe.” I say, “This is wrong. I cannot be here any longer. You seem like a good guy, help me.”

Joe chuckles, “That goes against Mr. Garres’ orders, miss. Don't worry about your safety. The mansion is heavily guarded.”

He carts the tray out, and locks the door.

I let out a sigh as I pulled out the fork I slipped under a pillow. I had slipped it out when Joe wasn't watching. As I gaze at the fork, I feel a surge of hope. I've learned how to lock pick, and now I have the perfect tool in my hands. 

I've noticed a five-minute window between each guard's watch, and I'm waiting for the perfect moment to make my move.

My heart races with anticipation as I think about my escape plan. I take a deep breath, gripping the fork tightly, ready to seize my chance.

I approach the door, my heart racing. I insert the fork into the lock, turning and adjusting it. After a few moments of fiddling, I hear the satisfying click of the lock disengaging. 

I push the door open, feeling a sense of relief as I step out the room. I move quickly, towards what I hope is the exit. My heart pounds in my chest as I glance over my shoulder, hoping I haven't been spotted.

As I round a corner, I collide with a solid chest. 

“Ah—!” Pain flares up from my bruised arm.

“Any sane person who had nearly gotten choked to death, would be in bed, resting.” A familiar deep baritone drawled. “But I've come to notice that you, Dymond Hilary, are not exactly sane.”

I look up to meet metallic grey eyes boring down at me. Nile, that ridiculously gorgeous ass, staring down at me with a bemused expression on his face.

I raise the fork threateningly, “Get out of my way.”

He stared at me. Then at the fork. And back to me. Slowly, he inches closer till the fork was digging into his chest.

“Will you be a good girl and go back to your room, or will you make me drug you?”

My jaw drops. A surge of fear and anger runs through my nerves as I struggle to find my words. Eventually, my voice returned, but it was hoarse, as all the fight had seeped out of me.

“You can't keep me here.” I say, “You already let me go.”

“Are you willing to tell me what you're hiding? Who you're running from and why you were attacked?” His smile is wicked, those teeth glinting like his multi million Cartier watch. “No, you won't. I changed my mind. I'm not letting you go scot-free, you need to be taught a lesson. But first, I need you to heal.”

My chest heaves with anger, “Who do you think you are?”

“The richest and most powerful man in Los Angeles.” His voice is flat. “I can sell you off to human traffickers, make you disappear without a trace. You should be thanking me for keeping you here, safe and sound.”

That was it!

I exploded, “You piece of shit! You cannot keep me against my will!” I try to side-step him to run towards the other door, hoping escape was close. 

His fingers sink into my hair and drags me back roughly, shoving me against the wall. The breath is knocked out of me, immediately followed by his warm scent as he crowds me in.

His eyes are livid, yet his voice dangerously soft, “What did you call me?”

“Let go of my hair.” I wince.

He pulls tighter, enough to cause massive discomfort but not enough to cause actual pain. As he towers several feet above me, my neck is craned high to meet his face. 

“You're like a feral animal, Dymond.” He seethes. “Small, mouthy, cunning. But I'll tame you, give you the training you so desperately need and make you my fucking pet. Wouldn't that be an upgrade from your dirty life on the streets?”

My cheeks burn with shame and humiliation.

“I'd rather die.” I spit.

“I won't let you.”

“You think having money makes you better? You're just as feral. A prideful animal draped in gold and diamonds.”

His lips curl, his eyes roving on my face like he has never fucking seen me before. For the first time, I am glad I look a mess. My red hair is a rat’s nest. The patient gown is slipping off my body, I am barefoot.

But how had I thought I could escape in this state? Greg’s attack had really taken a toll on my body, all I feel is pain everywhere.

Still anything is better than whatever this rich psycho has in store for me.

Finally, Nile mutters, “I never said I wasn't an animal.” His thumb brushes the bruise on my neck. “I'll have fun breaking you.”

I snarl and shove him back, only to see the nurse right beside me, holding up a massive syringe. 

My heart stops cold.

“No! Let me go!”

Nile wrangles me against the wall, my struggles are pathetic compared to his mere strength. The nurse inches closer, angling the needle at my neck. I scream myself hoarse, absolutely horrified at how easily they are trying to drug

me like a lunatic.

All I can hear is Nile’s cruel chuckle against my ear, as the sharp pain came.

What have I gotten myself into?