CHAPTER 5

Angelina POV

I stood there staring blindly at the closet walls, my brain struggling to process what had just happened. I had never let a man invade my personal space like that before. Of course, I'd had crushes in the past, but I had never been so completely dumbstruck in front of a guy I had just met.

I should have slapped him the second he walked in on me naked. But my mind and my body had completely betrayed me. Instead of pushing him away, I had let him trap me against his chest. It was like my body craved his touch, his minty breath, and the intense weight of his piercing blue eyes. The way he had stared at me, eyeing me up and down, had left me trembling. My mind scrambled for excuses to justify my inappropriate reaction. Maybe it was just his looks. Yes, it was only because he was ridiculously handsome, or because I liked the feel of his hard muscles, or the way his lips had hovered so close to mine—

Oh God, Angel! Get a grip! I scolded myself. Stupid girl. Stupid hormones.

My mental berating was interrupted by a loud, hollow rumble from my stomach. I was starving. After quickly throwing on a simple dress from the closet, I opened the bedroom door and made my way downstairs.

As I stepped into the sprawling living room, I spotted him. He was standing near the windows, talking on his phone.

"Yeah, good. Well done, Draven," he praised coldly, listening to the person on the other end. He nodded. "Yes, she's awake."

Is he talking about me?

"Yes, you can meet her once you get here," he continued, running a hand through his dark hair. His tone suddenly dropped, turning sharp and merciless. "Bring him to the basement and keep everything ready. I'll personally deal with this matter."

He hung up.

Basement? Deal with him? What exactly was he going to do to whoever they had caught?

I stood near the doorway, waiting for him to acknowledge my presence. When he didn't, I awkwardly cleared my throat. His head snapped toward me, and the seductive, teasing man I had just seen upstairs was completely gone. His demeanor was cold and calculating.

"Uh—well—I—"

"Go get some food. Your stomach has been empty for two days," he interrupted gruffly.

"What?" I gasped, my voice rising in panic. "I was out for two days? Oh God, my mom is going to kill me! I'm so dead. I need to go home this instant before she—"

"Eat first. We'll talk about it later," he cut in again, his tone leaving no room for argument. "Come. Let's get some food in you."

"Fine," I muttered stubbornly.

I followed him into a massive, state-of-the-art kitchen. He motioned for me to sit at the island while one of his staff immediately started preparing a plate for me. I wanted to open my mouth and protest—I really wasn't comfortable eating in a stranger's house—but when I caught him staring at me with that hard, unyielding gaze, I sighed and lowered my eyes.

It ended up being the right choice. The second I took a bite of the sandwich, my stomach clenched with desperate hunger. The food was incredible, and a soft moan of appreciation escaped my lips before I could stop it.

My eyes snapped wide open, darting toward the man sitting across the counter. If he heard the sound, he didn't react, his attention entirely focused on scrolling through his phone. Once I finished the sandwich, I pulled the plate of fresh pancakes closer and dug in.

Once again, a quiet moan slipped past my lips at the taste.

"Stop making noises like that," his hard voice suddenly cut through the silence.

I froze, chewing nervously before swallowing hard.

"Thank you for the breakfast," I said quietly after clearing my plate. "And... for saving my life."

He snapped his gaze to mine, offering a single, curt nod. I waited a few minutes for him to say something else, but he just went back to typing on his phone. Deciding I had overstayed my welcome, I stood up.

"Well, I'm fine now, and well-fed, so I should really get going. Thank you again," I said, taking a step toward the hallway.

The second the words left my mouth, his eyes locked onto me. A dark, sinister smile curled his lips.

"Where exactly do you think you're going, Love?"

"Home," I stated, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

"This is where you belong, my love. You might want to start considering this your new residence."

I froze. What?

"What do you mean I can't go home? I have to go. I appreciate you saving me, but I'm absolutely fine now. Let me leave," I demanded, anger finally leaking into my voice.

"I think I made myself clear, Angelina," he said, his tone turning dangerously serious.

"Are you insane? This is not my home. You have no right to keep me here!" I snapped harshly, turning my back to him and striding toward the exit. "I don't need your permission to leave."

Within a fraction of a second, he moved. He was suddenly standing directly in my path, his eyes blazing with fury.

"Enough!" he roared.

I flinched violently, stumbling backward. He marched forward, backing me up until my hips hit the kitchen counter. He slammed his hands down on the marble on either side of me, trapping me completely.

"Two things," he sneered, leaning in so close I could feel the heat radiating off his body. "One: never raise your voice at me again, and never disrespect my word. And two, which is the most important: you are not going anywhere. Not today, not tomorrow, not ever."

He gritted his teeth, his voice dropping into a dark, lethal register.

My face drained of color. My heart hammered against my ribs like a trapped bird. No. This isn't happening. This can't be true.

"You mean... I am—" I stuttered, unable to force the word out. "You've—"

"Kidnapped you?" he finished smoothly, a cruel smile returning as he watched my sheer terror. "Yes, Love. I have kidnapped you."

"I'll call the police! I'll have you thrown behind bars!" I threatened, clinging to a tiny shred of hope that it would scare him.

He just rolled his eyes. "Go ahead and do it," he challenged, gesturing casually toward the phone resting on the counter.

I was scared. I was utterly terrified. But beneath the fear, a blinding, reckless rage bubbled over. Without thinking, I did the absolute worst thing I could have possibly done.

I slapped him. Hard.

The sharp crack echoed through the kitchen. He slowly turned his face back to me, his jaw clenching so tight the muscle ticked under his skin. His eyes were blazing with a look so murderous my palms instantly started to sweat. His hands balled into tight fists at his sides, his chest heaving with slow, controlled breaths.

Before I could even blink, he stepped forward, grabbed me by the waist, and effortlessly threw me over his broad shoulder.

I screamed, thrashing wildly in his grip. I beat my fists against his solid back, shouting for him to put me down. A second later, a sharp, stinging slap erupted across my backside. The bastard had just spanked me.

He carried me straight upstairs, marched into the bedroom, and threw me roughly onto the mattress. Before I could scramble away, he was towering over me, pinning me down. I whimpered, my eyes brimming with terrified tears as I waited for him to hit me.

He leaned down until his face was mere inches from mine. The memory of the closet flashed through my mind, but this time, the lust in his eyes had been completely replaced by cold, ruthless fury.

"The next time you raise your hand to me," he began, his voice dripping with deadly promise, "I will fuck you so hard and so rough that you'll be sore for weeks."

A violent shiver racked my body. The underlying threat in his voice was paralyzing.

"I'll fuck your mouth so hard you'll feel my dick inside it every time you open it to speak," he continued in a low, terrifyingly stern whisper. "This is my first and last warning. There isn't going to be a next time."

I was completely speechless. I just stared up at him, tears slipping silently down my cheeks.

"Am I clear, Love?" he demanded.

I nodded weakly.

"Lost your voice? I want to hear you say it."

"Y—yes," I choked out.

"Good." His expression smoothed out instantly. He leaned down, pressed a surprisingly gentle kiss to the corner of my trembling mouth, and walked out of the room.

I lay there staring at the glass ceiling, my brain entirely failing to process the nightmare I had just woken up to. I had been kidnapped by the very man who saved my life.

This isn't real. I must be dreaming. I pinched my arm hard, desperately praying to wake up. But the pain was real. The room didn't fade, and my surroundings didn't change.

Oh, my God. I am really kidnapped.

My mom was going to be sick with worry. I might never see her or Alex again. The dam broke, and hot, heavy tears streamed down my face. My mind conjured up a hundred horrific scenarios of what was going to happen to me in this house. Unable to cope with the crushing reality, I curled into a tight ball and sobbed until exhaustion dragged me to sleep.

- - -

I blinked my swollen eyes open to the sound of distant knocking. Checking the bedside clock, I realized I had only slept for about two hours.

The door clicked open, and a man in a crisp uniform walked in carrying a tray. He placed it on the nightstand and looked at me. "Miss, Mr. Parker told you to finish this."

I gave a numb nod. "You can leave it there."

He bowed his head slightly and left.

I glanced at the tray. It was my favorite kind of pizza, covered in extra cheese, but just the smell of it made me nauseous. I had completely lost my appetite. For the rest of the day, I stayed curled in bed, crying until I was thoroughly dehydrated. My eyes were puffy, my hair was a tangled mess, and I felt entirely broken.

Around nine o'clock that evening, the doorknob twisted again. The same servant stepped inside, standing respectfully by the door. I didn't have the energy to yell at him to leave, so I just stared at him blankly.

"Mr. Parker has requested you downstairs for dinner," he announced.

My jaw clenched at the mention of his name. "Tell him I'm not hungry," I rasped out harshly.

"He made it clear that I should warn you not to ignore his instructions," the man replied evenly.

My blood instantly boiled over.

"Tell that bastard he can eat his dinner alone!" I yelled, hoping my voice carried all the way down the hall. "Tell him to take his warning and shove it!"

The servant paled. "Ma'am, please... we aren't allowed to disobey his orders. You have to come. Mr. Parker won't be happy with your reply. Please, you—"

"It's fine, Robert. You may go."

The cold voice cut through the room like a knife. Danzel was standing in the doorway, his dark eyes glaring holes into me. "Just have the food sent up to the room in fifteen minutes."

Robert nodded quickly and practically bolted from the room, leaving me alone with my abductor. Danzel stepped inside and clicked the door shut behind him.

Get ready to die, Angelina.

"I thought I made myself perfectly clear this morning," he said, taking slow, deliberate steps toward the bed. "I told you not to disobey me."

I scrambled backward until my spine hit the solid wood of the headboard.

"Why do you insist on disrespecting me at every turn?" he asked softly. He climbed onto the mattress, pressing his knees into the bed as he leaned heavily into my space. "Do you have any idea who I am?"

I shook my head, my breath catching in my throat.

"Speak."

"N-no," I stammered, frantically wiping fresh tears from my cheeks.

"Does the name Danzel Parker mean anything to you?"

I searched my brain. Danzel Parker. The name sounded vaguely familiar, like something from a late-night news broadcast, but I couldn't place it.

Sensing my confusion, he reached into his pocket, unlocked his phone, and held the screen up to my face. I squinted at the bright display. It was a police database page with a long list of names. The bold heading at the top read: MISSING PERSONS: UNSOLVED OVER TWO YEARS.

I looked up at him, my brow furrowing in confusion.

"Do you know why the police can never find these people?" he asked, his voice deadpan.

I didn't answer. I just stared at him. He didn't move a muscle, letting the horrifying reality slowly piece itself together in my mind until it finally clicked.

Oh my God.

"You... you killed them," I breathed, horrified.

A slow, wicked smirk spread across his face. "Now you can imagine what I am capable of doing to you, right? You see, my little Love, I could crush your neck right now, and no one would ever know. I could strip you down and fuck you right here on this bed, and absolutely no one would come to save you."

His smirk vanished, replaced by an expression of pure, chilling stone. "So, this is my final warning. Do not test my patience. I am already having a very hard time keeping my cool around you, and you are being fucking impossible. The next time you decide to open your smart mouth, think very carefully about the consequences. Alright?"

"Y-yes," I choked out, the tears flowing freely now. "Are... are you in the mafia?" the words tumbled out before I could stop them.

He simply shrugged. "You could say that."

"So you mean... I am—" I couldn't even finish the sentence. The weight of it was suffocating.

"Yes, my Love, you're exactly right," he murmured, his gaze dropping to my trembling lips as my face went deathly pale.

"You belong to me now, my Angel."