Chapter 8- Vi

God.

I can't believe I was so senselessly drunk last night I puked out the excess. I definitely know that's why I'm wearing some stranger’s silk shirt right now, in nothing but my bra and panties underneath. I ruined my clothes. And while I don't think I’ve ever been this embarrassed in my whole life, apparently, it’s the least of my problems, because the mystery man who brought me to this sprawling victorian-style mansion plans to keep me… Plus, he may or may not be a very dangerous person. 

And what gives me that idea? Well, he's mind-blowingly rich, has guards outside my door and must have orchestrated the shooting that sent everyone at the club scrambling to safety. Thankfully no one was hurt. But this guy seems to me like someone who wouldn't have cared if anyone did. I feel it in the ruthlessly efficient authority that precedes him in this space- his kingdom; the admittedly gorgeous villa where he reigns supreme. He's lethal. And he could have easily taken advantage of the fact that I was wasted last night… but he didn't.

Yet for some reason, I can't bring myself to see him as a gentleman. Maybe it's the way he seems to be toying with me, like he derives a secret thrill from seeing my trepidation and discomfort; or the fact that even though he didn't touch me, I know he still wants to- he's after all not hiding it- and I don't even know him. 

I have no idea why he's even texting me in the first place or suddenly interested in my romantic life. In fact, this whole thing is crazy and I want out. That is why I'm doing something I haven't done before but would still advice anyone to in this situation: threatening a butler from the enemy camp with a bread knife. 

And though I might traumatize the poor man a little bit, my major concern is that I will end up doing so without achieving my primary goal… because my abductor is not responding in the way I want him to. Definitely another reason I can't be close to someone like him. Aside from the fact that outright kidnap is not even the right approach to take in getting a woman, this guy is insane enough to stand back and watch leisurely as I stab his employee, because he's not ready to release me. 

Either he's really interested- God, please no- knows I won't carry out my threats or is just a sadist, because this is not what I expected at all. But I'm not about to be stuck here with someone like him. 

As my phone’s screen powers down, the last message from his end fading with the light, I stare into space in annoyance, wondering what to do next because the little plan I hatched a couple of minutes ago is about to fail very grandly. 

Soon, I’m tapping the device awake, my knife hand still around Tuxedoed Hostage’s neck as I send my abductor another text.

Me: Do you think I'm joking here? I am going to kill him if you don't let me go now. 

My palms are sweaty, but I hope I look as convincing as my typed words sound- firm, short, direct, no-nonsense like. But my wide eyes or the fact that I keep biting my bottom lip, anxiety rolling off me like impatient waves must have sold me out, and the asshole must have noticed it through the cameras he obviously must have been using to keep tabs on me… Because I can almost hear the grin in his voice as the new text comes. 

Unknown number: I fucking dare you.

Unbelievable.

How can one person be this aggravating? I wonder, about to start pleading- on bended knees- to be returned to my boring existence because all the excitement of last night and this morning is way more than I am used to. And my kidnapper? Well, he obviously doesn't buy my lies, unlike his employee who is still shaking, pulse thumping wildly just behind the blade resting at the collar of his three-piece. He definitely wants to know if I've changed my mind, managed to convince myself against this madness. The question that follows clearly hints at it. “W-what are you d-d-doing?” 

“I'm texting your boss,” I answer. “A minute ago I told him I would drive this knife inside you if he refused to let me go.”

“And what did he say?”

“He gave me his blessings.”

The man looks like he is about to have a heart attack. “Noooooooo!” He shrieks, throwing his arms in the air. “Please!”

“While I know he can see you, I'm not sure he really cares,” I advice him. “Save your breath.”

“l beg you,” he pleads. “Put the knife down.”

I think about it. “You're my only chance out of here.”