CHAPTER 2

The jet touched down in Dublin under a torrential downpour that felt like it wanted to wash the whole world away. He carried me off the plane, still slung over his shoulder like a war prize. My fists pounded uselessly against his wet back, but he barely felt it. The freezing wind and heavy rain whipped against my exposed skin, plastering what remained of the white dress to my body.

“Let me go!” I screamed until my throat burned. “Help! Someone, please!”

No one answered. Only the roar of the rain and the sound of his footsteps on the wet asphalt.

He dumped me into another armored SUV and climbed in right after, pinning my body beneath his again. His weight was suffocating. His scent—rain, dark wood, and something dangerously masculine—invaded me. The car sped off in silence, broken only by my broken sobs.

I don’t know how long we drove before we stopped in front of a large, ancient stone mansion almost swallowed by dark ivy. The house looked alive, like it breathed shadows.

He carried me inside. The moment we crossed the threshold, the warm air of the hall wrapped around me, but it couldn’t melt the ice running through my veins. He set me down, keeping one strong arm locked around my waist as if he feared I might vanish.

I looked up, and the world collapsed.

The walls were covered in photos.

Photos of me.

Photos of him.

Photos of us—smiling, kissing, laughing.

A little blond girl with blue eyes appeared in almost every one: in his arms, in mine, the three of us together in a field of colorful flowers.

My stomach twisted. My legs gave out.

“This… this can’t be real,” I whispered, backing up until my spine hit the cold wall. “I don’t have a daughter. I’m not married. I’m not… I’m not that person…”

He stepped closer slowly, those blue eyes locked on me like a predator.

“You do. And you are. To me.”

I shook my head frantically, hot tears spilling down my cheeks.

“Let me go. Please… I just want my life back…”

His hand slid up to my throat, squeezing with enough pressure for me to feel his absolute dominance.

“Your life is here now. With me. With our daughter.”

Before I could beg again, he lifted me off the floor, threw me over his shoulder like I weighed nothing, and started up the wide staircase. I kicked, punched his back, and screamed until my voice cracked.

“No! Stop! Help!”

He didn’t say a word. Just climbed with steady steps down a long hallway and stopped in front of a set of dark wooden double doors. He opened them and tossed me onto the huge king-sized bed.

The room was luxurious and intimidating—dark furniture, low lighting, and the scent of wood and him everywhere. Photos of us were scattered all over. Women’s clothes still hung in the half-open closet. A gold wedding ring on a chain dangled from the lamp.

I tried to crawl away. He grabbed my ankle and yanked me back with brutal force, climbing over me and pinning my wrists above my head with one hand.

“I waited so fucking long to have you again, Evie,” he growled, dragging his hot mouth down my neck, sucking and biting the sensitive skin. “Years without touching you. Without feeling you. Without hearing you moan my name.”

I sobbed, repeating desperately:

“I don’t want this… please… I don’t know you…”

But my body betrayed me in the most shameful way. A forbidden heat spread across my skin with every touch. My nipples hardened painfully. A wet, insistent throb grew between my legs. Even while my mind screamed in panic and guilt, something deep inside me—something primitive, forgotten—craved more. Craved his weight. Craved the possessive brutality of his hands.

What the hell is wrong with me? I thought, guilt choking me. How can I feel desire for the man who kidnapped me?

He locked my wrists into the leather cuffs attached to the headboard. My white bra was torn, one breast completely exposed. He settled between my spread legs, belt already undone, his hard cock throbbing against my soaked panties.

“Please…” I begged, my voice breaking. “I don’t want this…”

He let out a low, dark laugh and bit down hard on my nipple. I arched off the bed, a shameful moan slipping out before I could stop it.

“Your body does, Evie. Look how fucking wet you already are for me.”

He slid two fingers under my panties. I was drenched. He groaned against my skin, circling my swollen clit.

“This has always been mine.”

I turned my face away, crying from shame and confusion, but my thighs clenched around his hand, betraying me even more.

He was about to rip my panties off when the phone on the nightstand vibrated.

Once. Twice. Three times.

He froze.

I stopped fighting too, breathing hard, eyes wide.

“Who… who is it?” I whispered.

He picked up the phone. On the screen was a photo of the little blond girl smiling with a teddy bear.

He answered and put it on speaker:

“Hey, princess.”

A joyful child’s voice burst through the line.

“Daddy! Uncle Zion said you landed! He wouldn’t let me come see you yet. He said you were… busy.”

He looked at me—cuffed, half-naked, marked by him. The contrast was shocking.

“I am busy, baby. But I’m almost done.”

I stared at him in horror.

“Daddy… Is it true? Is Mommy with you?”

He never took his eyes off me.

“Yes, Claire. She’s here.”

A happy little squeal came through the phone.

“I want to see her! Please! Can I come up now?”

He smiled softly.

“In a little bit, princess. She’s still a little scared.”

“Scared? But she’s Mommy…”

I squeezed my eyes shut, my chest aching.

He hung up after a few more promises and set the phone down.

When he looked back at me, I stared at him like he was a monster.

“You have a daughter… with me?”

He gripped my chin firmly.

“I told you, baby. We have a daughter. Claire. She’s ten. And she’s downstairs dying to see you.” He brushed his lips against mine. “But first… I need to remind you exactly why you’re her mother.”