CHAPTER 3

Ann’s POV

 

I'm struggling to keep my tears at bay until consciousness hits me just as the car comes to a slow stop.

 

Wiping my tears, I turn to see the man in a black T-shirt staring right back at me with a look of worry etched on his face.

 

It makes me question why I felt compelled to allow a complete stranger to take me out of there. Maybe it's because I'd prefer to be somewhere else than the place where Carter nearly raped me, like he almost did years ago.

Carter is my step-brother. I was just 16 when Dad and Mom got separated. A year later, she married Carter’s dad. 

He was always flirty with me but I choosed to ignore it until he tried to rape me when I was taking a nap. I woke up with a jolt to see a smirk on his face as he pinned me down. I struggled with him but he was stronger, until he was out of his trousers.

Escaping being raped by him that night was a narrow escape.

I kicked his groins, and ran out.

When his dad arrived from work, I explained everything to him but he didn't believe a word. Till date, I had no idea what Carter and his dad fed my mother with. She wouldn't hear my side of the story and I left home.

That night wouldn't leave my head for years, until I met Ryan. 

 

Shit!

 

How the hell did I miss a number? I intended to message Ryan, not this man. On second thought, I feel glad the mistake happened.

 

“Are you okay now?” His deep voice demands from me, making me feel more safe.

 

Intermittently, I nod.

 

Another car stops right behind us, and he looks back before stepping out. I sit still, unsure of what to do now. I am out of the hotel in nothing but my robe. I actually thought I had gotten rid of my anxiety attacks, but tonight has proved me wrong.

 

I was in a state of complete confusion as I laid there, weeping uncontrollably for nearly an hour.

 

I guess it was just the fear. I've always harbored a fear of experiencing another near-rape incident.

 

“Boss,” a man nods at him, and I watch them converse in low tones, the strange man glancing at me at intervals, making me examine him carefully.

 

He is extremely tall and well-built. In his black pants and black shirt, which hug his muscular arm, I can see the massive black tattoo spread across his exposed arm.

 

Two other men appear, and fear slowly crawls in, making me start with my wild imagination.

 

Why did I allow him to bring me here? Who are these people? 

 

He suddenly yanks the door open, and I jolt upright to see him signaling for me to descend.

 

Swallowing hard, I try to think of something to say. An excuse not to come down. I need to tell him that I am okay and I don't need to be here.

 

My body trembles at the thought of getting into trouble here again after escaping an hour ago.

 

“You don't want to come down?” He asks me with curiosity written all over him. He glances back and looks at me again. “No one is in sight. I dismissed them already. You don't need to feel…”

 

“I want to go home,” I suddenly say without thinking. “I…I…thank you for coming. I'm sorry I sent you that message. It wasn't meant…”

 

"Calm down," he says, gently touching my shoulder, causing a shiver to run through me.

 

He is handsome. He is extremely handsome, with sharp blue eyes, high cheekbones, and a firm jaw. A perfect example of a Greek god.

 

Mentally, I slap myself at the thought.

 

This is not the time to admire a man I barely know. He has recently witnessed me at my most vulnerable.

 

“You are safe here. No one can hurt you here, okay?”

 

I want to oppose him, but I can't. He appears to be both dangerous and confident. I feel safe and scared. 

 

I can't leave here in just a bathrobe, and I also can't go back to the hotel because Carter might come back there to finish what he started.

 

Should I trust this man? What if he doesn't deserve my trust? Is he as dangerous as he looks? Will he keep me safe, just as he said?

 

“Come,” he says, holding onto my legs and placing me down on the floor before hauling me up from the car. “I should carry you upstairs.”

 

It doesn't sound like a question. Before I can even say anything, he picks me up, just like he did earlier. When he carried me out of that hotel room, the emotions were different. I was desperate. Hurting. Sad. 

 

But now, it feels different. Intimate.

 

Every touch of his ignites something in me, making me close my eyes and curse at myself inwardly.

 

This is wrong.

 

I was harassed a while ago. I can't be ogling or drooling over this man. I shouldn't allow him to carry me the way he does.

 

When we step inside, I manage to tear my gaze away from him. And a low gasp escapes me at the massive house and the beautiful decorations. The artistic paintings, the high chandelier, and the sparkling marble floor did not escape my notice.

 

The staircase is grand. It feels like a home pulled from the Renaissance period. This is more than just a house; it's a cozy and beautiful home.

 

Does he live here alone? Does he have a wife? 

 

If he did, he wouldn't carry me.

 

He climbs the staircase, and I turn to him again. He maintains a fixed, serious, and deadly gaze.

 

I look down at my fingers, feeling extremely uneasy. 

 

He stalks into a room and kicks it open with his leg. It has just a big bed, a dresser, three beautiful sofas, and a closet.

 

The painting is dull, unlike the living room's, and the floor is sparkling too. Finally, he drops me to the floor, and I sway.

 

“You can spend the night here. My room is next to yours, so you can call me if you need anything,” he utters with incredulity.

 

I nod. “Thank you for helping me.”

 

He doesn't smile like I thought he would, so I continue. “The message wasn't yours. I intended to send it to my ex…” I pause, remembering what happened again, and my body shakes with relief and more fear of what would happen when I am out of here and Carter crosses paths with me again.

 

“Your ex?” His curious tone reaches my ears, making me stare at him. 

 

He holds onto my hand before leading me to a sofa. When I sit, he slumps next to me, making me conscious of the close proximity.

 

“We broke up a month ago.”

 

“And you felt he was the right person to ask for help?” His question catches me off-guard.

 

He wasn't. I was stupid. 

 

“I've blocked him everywhere. I used to know his number by heart, but I must have gotten one of the figures wrong, which is why you received the message instead.” I say instead of replying to his question.

 

He is silent, making me wonder if he is a man of few words. 

 

“What happened back there?” He suddenly inquires.

 

I know what he is talking about. I don't need to tell him the first two messages were out of deceit. I don't need to tell him I sent that message so I could get Ryan’s attention.

 

“Someone attacked me.” I tremble beneath his piercing gaze. “He almost raped me.”

 

“Do you know this person? Can you give a description of how he looks?” The next question rolls out of his mouth.

 

I shut my eyes to wave off the scene, and a tear drops. “I know him. He is my step-brother and he tried to rape me.”

 

He doesn't look surprised when I glance at him. He keeps a straight face, and I whimper, weary with exhaustion.

 

“Do you have a picture of him?” He demands again, this time picking up his phone and typing on it furiously.

 

“My phone isn't here,” I reply him. Even though I haven't spoken to Carter, mom or dad in years, I have a way of reaching out or finding Carter’s picture.

 

“My men have your things. You should get some rest tonight. Tomorrow morning, we will talk better. I will have the maids bring you a meal and a dress to change into. The bathroom is in there if you want to take a bath. Don't hesitate to let me know if you need anything else.” He shoots to his feet instantly and begins to walk to the door.

 

“Sir…Erhmm…” He halts and whirls around to meet my gaze. “I'm sorry, I don't know your name.”

 

“Vince.”

 

“I'm Ann.”

 

“I know,” he admits ruefully, shocking me. “Do you need anything else?”

 

I shake my head slowly, even though I want to ask him how he knew my name and tell him I can't sleep alone in this big room tonight.

 

Not tonight.

 

This man has done enough.

 

“See you tomorrow,” he utters before strolling out.