Chapter 8

“Is my guest settled?”

“Yes, sir. She was just starting to come around.”

“I take it she didn’t come quietly?” Which should be obvious considering the condition he brought her in, but I want to know what to expect when she wakes. Fear or rage? I’d prefer the latter rather than dealing with tears.

Cray coughs and Diana glances away before meeting my eyes again. “I believe her exact words were ‘you can tell Mr. Hampson to go fuck himself’.”

The silence hangs for a beat and then I throw my head back and laugh. My two men share a glance. I’m not one for laughing. They probably didn’t think I even knew how. It does sound a bit rusty. But at least my question has been answered. I should expect one pissed off woman when she finally awakens. And based on the banging and yelling that reaches me, that would be now.

“That will be all.” I dismiss the two men who leave the room with a brief nod and walk out the front door.

Taking my time, I wander out of the kitchen and through the rest of the house toward where the pounding and screaming grow louder, punctuated frequently by swear words I’ve never heard before. I enter my bedroom, unlock the connecting door, and lean my shoulder against the doorframe of the open doorway.

Ella stands at the other door, slamming her fist against and then kicking the locked barrier. Her chest heaves and obscenities spew from her mouth.

“You fecking cock-knobber, open this goddamn door before I shove my foot straight up your arsehole.”

I barely hold back my chuckle, although my lips do curve up slightly. Standing upright, I stride across the room and stop right behind her. “That’s quite the gutter mouth you have.”

Ella whirls with a screech and throws a punch at my face. I catch her fist easily and then quickly dodge the knee headed straight for my cock so it hits my thigh. Using my hold, I spin her around and push her up against the door, covering her body with mine. She bucks against me, cursing over her shoulder, her words garbled from her cheek pressed to the wood, but clear enough to make out.

“Let go of me, you cretin. I swear to god, I’m going to murder you.”

I grind my rock-hard cock against her ass. “Don’t threaten me with a good time, minx.”

Ella freezes. I lean closer and breathe in her scent. Her jaw clenches. I can only imagine the amount of control she’s using to not curse me out again. This is going to be a lot more fun than I expected.

“As much as I’m enjoying our current position, I’m sure you’d prefer we continue this conversation face-to-face. Are you going to behave if I let you go?”

She nods. With great reluctance, I loosen my hold on her and take a couple steps back. Imogen spins and glares up at me. “You’re a dick.”

“You’ve just been taken captive by two strange men and delivered to another stranger’s home. Although it sounds as though you already knew who I was when Diana and Cray…detainee you. Still, I could do any number of depraved things to you. Yet, you’re not showing any fear.”

Ella tugs her sweatshirt down and shoves her way past me. I turn and my gaze tracks her lush ass as she moves farther into the room. She rounds on me. “Detained me? Is that what they’re calling kidnapping these days? Besides, why should I be afraid? It’s not like you’re going to chop me up into little pieces and dump them in the Liffey.”

“This is true.” I pause. “I’d probably choose the Bay.”

For a second, there’s a flash of fear in her eyes, but she clears it and continues glaring with her arms crossed. The bulky clothing doesn’t hide her tits. “Why am I here?”

Normally, I don’t care for a mouthy woman, but on Ella, it’s such a fucking turn on. I want more of her fire. “You’re here because I want you to be.”

She gapes. “Are you fucking serious? You just grab any woman off the street because you want to?”

I lean back against the door and cross my ankles. “I didn’t grab any woman. I specifically grabbed you. And I always get what I want.”

Ella swivels her head back and forth and throws her arms up in the air. “You’re a fucking lunatic. That’s not how things work.” She strides forward until we’re toe-to-toe. Her head tips back as she stares up at me. “Move. I’m leaving.”

“I’m afraid that isn’t going to happen. Not until I’m done with you, anyway. Then you’ll be free to leave. Until then, you’ll remain here as my guest.”

She fists her palms and screeches. “God you are infuriating. Fine, if you’re going to hold me captive, then at least give me my bag. Your lackeys did bring it, didn’t they?”

I nod. “Your things are safe and sound. However, you will need to earn the privilege of having them returned.”

Ella snarls. “I’m not fucking you just to get my shit back.”

“Oh, don’t worry, you’ll fuck me because you want to and not for any other reason.”

She makes a sound of disgust. “You really are a nutter, aren’t you? There’s not a chance in hell I’m going to want to fuck you. You’re holding me captive, in case you have forgotten.”

I move forward and for each one step I take, Ella takes two backward until she collides with the corner post of the bed. She goes rigid but holds her ground. I stop when my chest brushes hers. Her eyes are filled with hatred, but a lesser man wouldn’t notice the flicker of a deeper emotion behind it or the catch of her breath. I palm the back of her neck and thread my fingers through her hair before slowly lowering my head to brush my lips across hers. A tease really. Merely a prelude of what’s to come.

I’ll give her credit. She tries not to react, but beneath my thumb, her pulse races. I flick my tongue out and at first she resists, but I continue my gentle coaxing until she opens sweetly for me. Beautifully. Oh, yes, I’m going to enjoy seducing, and taming, this fiery minx. I deepen the kiss and Ella meets my tongue stroke for stroke. She tastes of shortbread with a hint of citrus. It might be my new favorite flavor. I draw back taking one final lap of her sweetness. She slowly opens her bright blue eyes that have gone dark with arousal.

“I could fuck you right now. Couldn’t I?” I can’t help but goad.

Her emotions change in the blink of an eye and the arousal is replaced with fury. Her body vibrates with it. God, she is glorious in her rage.

“Get. Out.”

I dip my head in a mocking gesture, a smirk shifting across my lips, and go back through the open doorway to my room. I close the door behind me and turn the lock. For a minute, I stand there straining to capture any noise coming from the other side, but it’s completely quiet. No sobs. No angry tantrum. Only the silence.

I’m tempted to pull my cock out and stroke it to release, but I have more self-control than that. Instead, I head for my office where I finalize plans for my takeover.

Ella

The longer I’m locked in this room, the more pissed I get. A feat I didn’t believe possible. There isn’t a clock in here, but based on the fact that it’s dusk outside, I’m guessing I’ve been in here for at least four hours. Thank god I have a bathroom. Someone also kindly left a bottle of water. How nice of them. That doesn’t change the fact that I haven’t eaten more than my scone since this morning and a couple biscuits and I’m fucking starving. Which is only making me hangry.

I slam my fists into the mattress and growl. My feet had gotten tired standing and pacing. So even though I’m bored out of my goddamn mind, I’ve been sitting at the head of the bed with my knees pulled to my chest ever since—stewing. Alternating between glaring at both locked doors and plotting how to get out of this damn place. And when I do, Jerry is going to regret taking me. Already, I’ve figured out what organizations I plan on donating all his money to when I hack into his bank accounts and drain them dry.

I’ve already cried twice. Not because I’m scared—although I am certainly that—but because I’m furious. Aside from Mum’s funeral, the only time I ever cry is when I’m rage-filled. And being kidnapped off the street, held captive in a dangerous man’s home, belongings withheld, and not given proper sustenance is enough to make any girl rage-y. I’m also pissed at not only Jerry, but myself for that kiss and how much I liked it.

A lock clicks. I freeze.

The door opens and he strides through. Gone is the expensive suit jacket and tie. Instead the top few buttons of his white dress shirt are undone, and his sleeves are rolled up exposing his forearms. The right one is decorated in colorful tattoos that climb upward and disappear beneath his shirt. How far up do they go? You’re pissed off, remember? Who cares?

“If you behave yourself you can come out to the dining room for dinner.”

I grit my teeth. “Do you treat all your prisoners like a child who’s been sent to their room or am I the lucky one?”

That smirk I want to punch off his face returns briefly. “Is that how I’ve been treating you, then? Like a child? Because that’s certainly not how I see you. I’m more than happy to demonstrate again if you need reminding.”

There’s a small flutter in my belly that votes yes for that, but I only give him a patronizing smile and climb off the bed. I hate giving in to his little game, but my stomach is the one in charge at the moment and is vetoing every other decision except the one that ends with being fed. I move across the room and sweep past him without a word. I brace for him to grab me or stop me in some way, but when nothing happens, I continue walking. His footsteps follow me.

The hallway is brightly lit by recessed lighting in the ceiling. The full length of the wall to my left is made entirely of glass. I pass a single door on my right. The passageway opens to a large, contemporary sunken living area with a massive fireplace and sleek black furniture. The warmth is comforting. I nearly gasp at the water cascading down another wall.

“Welcome to my home.” Jerry strides past me since I’ve stopped in the middle of the room to admire the indoor waterfall.

I don’t want to find anything appealing about my prison. Forcing my gaze away, I follow him as we cross the entryway with a white-and-black marble floor and spiral staircase leading to the second level and into the next room. Finally the delicious scent of food hits me. The dining room table is set for two people. One at the head of it and the second at the seat to the right. A covered baking dish is set between them.

“Come. Sit.” Jerry gestures toward the table.

For a brief second, I’m tempted to move the place setting to the opposite end as him, but I don’t want to jeopardize my chances of eating. I’ll pick the battles that are worth fighting. Once I’m seated, he does the same. “Please, help yourself. It’s my famous shepherd’s pie.”

I shoot him a quick glance. His shepherd’s pie?

Nathan’s eyes widen innocently. “What, you don’t believe I can cook?”

“I hadn’t given it any thought, actually.” Without waiting for him, I dig into the generous helping I dipped out onto my plate. Oh my god. It’s delicious. Refusing to give him the satisfaction of seeing how much I’m enjoying it, I keep my expression as blank and as bored as I can.

“Is the food not to your liking?” There’s almost a mocking tone to his question, as though he knows quite well it is.

“It tastes like shepherd’s pie.” I manage a shrug trying for nonchalance. “Considering I haven’t eaten since your creepy stalker visit to the bakery this morning, I’m sure anything would taste good at this point.”

His face darkens. “That was over twelve hours ago. Why haven’t you eaten since then?”

“Oh, I don’t know, let me see. Your goons kidnapped me off the street on my way to get food and I’ve been stuck in a locked room for fucking hours. Why do you think?” My words drip with disdain. Not that I expect Jerry to feel an ounce of guilt, but whatever scrap of decency he might have in him, well…I hope he chokes on it.