Paetyn’s POV
For a split second, my brain convinces me I’m blind. Darkness surrounds me, engulfing me whole and holding me hostage. But the soft buzzing working its way into the depths of my mind tells me that I haven’t been completely dragged down to the depths of hell with no sight of return.
Not yet, at least.
My head thumps painfully, the source coming from deep behind my eyes. The rhythmic movement echoes in my ears, making it hard to think straight. I try my best to force my hand up to cradle my head, hoping it’ll ease the pain, but my limbs are heavy. Too heavy to move.
With a groan, I fight against the pain coursing through my body to force my eyes open. At first, it’s almost painful. My eyelids feel as though they’ve been glued shut, keeping me from seeing. But with a great deal of effort, I pry them open and am immediately assaulted by a warm, orange glow above me.
A hiss slips past my lips as I fight to clear my vision. The sudden intrusion of light hitting my eyes only intensifies the pounding in my skull. Everything hurts.
But why?
Why does my body feel as though it’s on fire and weighs as much as a cement truck?
My limbs seem to be working now because I’m able to bring my elbow under me to prop my body up. I blink rapidly to clear my vision and focus on calming my heavy breathing. When my surroundings become clear, my heart rate spikes all over again.
Where the hell am I?
With my heart in my throat, I gaze down at the thin white sheets wrapped haphazardly around my jean-clad legs. The mattress beneath me is dirty and has seen better days. What shocks me the most is the thick chain cuffed around my ankle, keeping me a hostage of the twin bed. The metal is rusted and looks as though it has been around for many years.
The sleeves of my long-sleeved blouse are rolled up to my elbows, exposing me to the chill in the air. Out of the corner of my eye, I find the coat I was wearing when I left work folded neatly on the floor.
My eyes snap up to gaze around the rest of the room lit only by a single bulb hanging overhead. I fear if I make any sudden movements, whoever brought me here will come barging into the room. The boarded-up window above the small bed I lie on is almost mocking me—a reminder that it’s my only way of escaping this small room.
Heavy breathing sounds from across the room, and at that moment, my heart almost slams through my rib cage. Without so much as moving a muscle, I drag my eyes away from the window to the single chair situated in the corner opposite the bed, beside the only door to the room.
The masked man I have been seeing the past few days sits in the black leather chair silently, his long legs spread out in front of him. He’s so silent as he regards me, his hands clasped together in his laip. I feel his gaze upon me from behind the barrier he uses to keep his identity hidden.
A cold chill races down my spine. Just like every other time I have encountered him.
I open my mouth to speak, but the words get caught in my dry throat, unable to make their escape. My throat works to relieve the dryness as I swallow hard. I’m unable to take my eyes off the masked man for fear that if I let him out of my sight, he might attack.
“Wh-who are you?” My voice is small, barely above a whisper. But he heard me. The slight tilt of his head gives him away. “Why d-did you take me?”
The memory of him cornering me in the alleyway on my way home from work blasts through my mind like a home movie, replaying the moment he caught me, his strong arms wrapped tightly around my waist as he dragged me into the depths of darkness I couldn’t escape.
I had no real chance of getting away from him. But I had hoped someone would save me. Anyone. And now I’m here, chained to a bed, while he watches me intently, not saying a goddamn word.
“Please let me go home.” My hands shake more and more with each word. I manage to push myself into a seated position, ignoring the way my bones creak with the simple movement. “I have a fiance who will be looking for me.”
The masked man snorts, the sound deep, but doesn’t say anything. He just stares at me, inky curls spilling around from the behind the mask. Waiting. Watching. The silence is almost suffocating, squeezing my lungs so tightly I’m unable to force air into my lungs.
What does he want from me?
Who the hell is this man?
Dampness stings the hairs in my nostrils, and I have to force back a gag at the terrible scent. The room smells wet like it’s been flooded previously and the odor hasn’t been removed. It’s a vast contrast to the floral candles I burn every night at home because Liam says he likes the light fragrance.
Liam.
Oh, God. I’m sure he’s worried sick about me. At least, I hope he is. When I was taken from the alleyway, Raya was still on the phone, so I’m sure she has informed Liam about what happened. He would have gone to the police right away when I didn’t come home. I’m sure of it.
Knowing that people are out there searching for me gives me a small moment of comfort. But it’s ruined by the masked man staring silently at me. The muscles in his biceps flex slightly as if he’s clenching his fists momentarily. Despite the slight chill in the air, he’s still wearing a black T-shirt with his black jeans. It’s as if the cold doesn’t affect him at all.
“Are you doing this for ransom?” I ask, my voice raspy. My heart pounds in my chest with each second ticking by without hearing a single word from my kidnapper. “Are you going to kill me? Sell me into sex trafficking? What do you want from me?”
Panic seeps into my pores at the thought of either of those scenarios happening. This could go either way; I could live, or I could die, and the thought of the latter terrifies me.
What if I don’t make it home alive?
The masked man keeps his mouth shut. He stands from the chair and cracks his knuckles, his eyes searing into my skin from behind the mask. At the sight of the scars on his knuckles—an indicator that he uses his fists quite a bit—I cower against the metal frame headboard, hoping it’ll put some distance between us.
But instead of moving in my direction, he turns to the door, unlocks the latch, and steps through it. When the door closes behind him, I hear what sounds like a lock clicking into place, trapping me inside.
Even though my head is spinning and my limbs are heavy, I know this might be one of my only chances to find an escape route. He could come back with a decision about my fate—one that doesn’t allow me to see the light of morning. I take this moment of silence as an opportunity to spring from the bed.
The wooden floorboards squeak beneath the weight of my feet. I cringe at the sound, hoping the masked man didn’t hear it from wherever he has gone. I could be locked in a little cabin in the middle of the woods or a basement in a house on a suburban street. The possibilities are endless. Either way, I need to get the hell out of here.
I try to explore the space around the twin bed, but the chain around my ankle only lets me get so far before I’m helpless to move anywhere else. But the small give in the chain does allow me to inspect the window above the bed. It’s boarded up with old planks of wood, not allowing so much as a sliver of light to peek through it. Which means I’m unable to inspect the surroundings outside.
“Goddamn it,” I groan, frustration prickling my skin. “This is useless.”
The lock on the door sliding open sends my heart plummetingskyrocketing to the bottom of my feet. I whirl around just in time to see the masked man entering the room with a tray of food. The scent of cold deli ham wafts through the air, mixing with the damp smell. The odor of food instantly makes my stomach growl with hunger, reminding me I have no idea what day it is or how long I’ve gone without eating.
He sets the tray on the end of the mattress with easy strides before turning to stand in front of the closed door. I feel his eyes on me as he clasps his hands together in front of him, his body straight and rigid.
I look between him and the ham sandwich and bottle of water on the tray. “Is that for me?”
He doesn’t so much as give me a nod, but the tilt of his head is answer enough.
I eye the bottle of water, desperate to quench the thirst clawing at my throat. The thought that he could have slipped some sort of drug into the water crosses my mind. But as much as I would like to deny his offer of food purely so I can keep my senses about me, the violent growl of my stomach gives me away.
I’m starving and thirsty. And if I want to keep my energy up to have a fighting chance of escaping this room, I need to get something in me.
My body vibrates with nerves as I lower onto the edge of the mattress. The sandwich shakes slightly in my trembling hands as I bring it to my mouth. I don’t bother inspecting the food before I take a bite. The moment the ham and cheese touch my taste buds, I’m unable to stop myself from taking large bites, desperate to fill the ache in my stomach. He’s added lettuce, mayo, and tomato, too, as if he knows how I like my ham sandwiches. Lucky guess.
With each bite I take, I feel my kidnapper’s intense gaze searing a hole into my skin. It sends a shiver down my spine.
I wish I knew what he was thinking or why he brought me here in the first place. Not knowing what’s going to happen to me is a terrifying feeling. He could do whatever he wanted to me in the blink of an eye, and I wouldn’t be able to do anything about it. But instead, he’s watching me eat the food he offered, not saying a single word.
It’s unnerving, really.
Within two minutes, the sandwich is gone and the bottle of water is mostly empty. Eating so fast has given me a stomachache, but it’s better than the feeling of being hungry. Even though I’m still thirsty, I know I need to preserve the water for as long as possible since I don’t know if he’s going to give me more or not.
He steps forward to collect the tray with his tattooed arm. Instinct has me scrambling back on the bed, my eyes fixed on every tiny movement he makes.
He stands to his full height, towering over me with the red tray gripped firmly in his hands. Just when I think he’s going to turn around and leave, an unexpected deep voice sounds from behind the Halloween-esque mask that sends a shiver down my spine.
“Don’t even think about trying to escape. You won’t get far.”
Paetyn’s POVFor a split second, my brain convinces me I’m blind. Darkness surrounds me, engulfing me whole and holding me hostage. But the soft buzzing working its way into the depths of my mind tells me that I haven’t been completely dragged down to the depths of hell with no sight of return. Not yet, at least.My head thumps painfully, the source coming from deep behind my eyes. The rhythmic movement echoes in my ears, making it hard to think straight. I try my best to force my hand up to cradle my head, hoping it’ll ease the pain, but my limbs are heavy. Too heavy to move. With a groan, I fight against the pain coursing through my body to force my eyes open. At first, it’s almost painful. My eyelids feel as though they’ve been glued shut, keeping me from seeing. But with a great deal of effort, I pry them open and am immediately assaulted by a warm, orange glow above me. A hiss slips past my lips as I fight to clear my vision. The sudden intrusion of light hitting my eyes only i
Paetyn’s POVA deep voice booms through the wooden door of the room, startling me awake. My heart slams into my throat as I force myself into a seated position, clutching the sheets to my chest.What the hell is going on?Even though I’ve only heard the masked man speak a few times, I recognize his voice. His tone is deep and unlike anything I’ve ever heard. But who is he talking to? No one responds to him, so I can only assume he’s speaking to someone on the phone.His muffled voice filters throughout the room, but soon his words become clearer as if he’s pacing the floor outside, getting closer and closer to the door. The desire burning deep in my chest to know what he’s saying consumes me. If I want to know more about this man and potentially learn why I’m here, I need to listen in on the conversation.Without making a noise, I slide off the creaky matt
Paetyn’s POVI blink at him, unable to form a single thought, let alone a sentence to respond to his comment. The masked man blurs in my vision as I process his insane suggestion.Thinking about him? Has he lost his damn mind? In what world would I be thinking sexually about the man who kidnapped me, has had me chained to a dingy bed for days, and refuses to speak to me? The thought is insane, that’s what it is.And yet, I feel the dampness between my thighs from my fantasy from moments ago when I thought about him touching me, his large hands caressing my skin, leaving goosebumps in their wake. I shiver at the thought.Yeah, I’m a fucking liar because I am thinking about him, and that’s the problem.But I won’t admit that to him, no matter how long he sits there and stares at me with his head tilted to the side as he regards me.God, I’m pathetic.
Paetyn’s POVThe longer I sit on the mattress, staring at the moldy roof, and counting each time the masked man enters the room, the more I begin to lose my goddamn mind. Just as I thought would happen. Each second ticks by painfully slow, leaving me with nothing to do but sit and think. Think about the situation I’m in. Think about my mother and if she’s okay. And think about the masked man and the tension between us that only seems to grow each time he visits my room.A few days have passed since I got myself off to my captor. Shame and guilt have plagued me ever since, reminding me how terrible of a person I am. I have a fiance searching for me, and here I am finger fucking myself at the thought of another man. The same man who kidnapped me.I’m beyond fucked up. Or maybe I’m just going crazy the longer I’m trapped inside these four walls. The walls feel as though they’re closin
Paetyn’s POVMy eyes snap open, and my heart thunders in my chest. I open my mouth to speak, but only a puff of air escapes, followed by the realization that I’m fucked.I want to tell him he’s insane, but the dampness between my thighs gives me away, calling me a liar. I would rather lose every ounce of air from my lungs before admitting he’s right. Hell, I don’t even know why my body is reacting to my kidnapper this way, but I’m helpless to stop it. At this point, it has a mind of its own, and apparently, that entails being turned on by being held captive.Liam’s face appears in my mind, reminding me how wrong this is and why I shouldn’t be thinking about a stranger the way I am, but when he tightens his grip around my throat, the image disappears, replaced with burning desire deep in my core.Goddamnit.“I asked you a question,” he utters, his voice dangerously low. He drags his nose across my cheek, his war
Paetyn’s POVBANG!My eyes snap open at the loud noise. It’s hard to figure out where it came from within the house, but it sounded close. I’m disoriented with sleep-crusted eyes as I pull the thin sheet up to my chin, staring at the locked door to the room.What is my kidnapper doing? Besides the time he woke me up talking loudly on the phone, I tend not to hear a peep from him throughout the day. I don’t know what he does when he isn’t bringing me food and watching me eat—or fucking me like a depraved man—but he certainly doesn’t usually make noise like that.My heart nearly leaps out of my throat at the sound of rushing footsteps. Not just one set of footsteps, but I detect multiple.What is going on? Has my captor finally decided to sell me to a group of traffickers, and now they’ve come to collect me?I scoot back further on the mattress, the box
PaetynThe insistent beeping of the machines surrounding my bed has been driving me insane all night. At this point, I would rather have the silence of the shack I spent the last week trapped in.Since arriving at the hospital yesterday afternoon, I haven’t slept a wink. It’s a little hard when nurses and doctors are rushing in and out of the room to check my vitals and ensure I’m doing okay. Add to that a horde of reporters trying to get a statement from the woman who survived a kidnapping and lived to tell the tale and you’ve got yourself a goddamn nightmare.Thankfully, Liam has been kind enough to handle the media for me as I’m in no condition to be speaking with them. I’m exhausted, desperate for a proper night’s rest in my bed at home, and want nothing more than to see my mother. When I was rescued, Liam informed me that he had been visiting my mother to ensure she knew he was doing everything he could to find me. I was grateful to hear such an update since I had been worried ab
PaetynUtensils clinging against porcelain plates echo in the back of my mind. It’s a sound that wouldn’t normally annoy me, but when it’s mixed with Liam and his father’s nonstop chattering about politics and how Liam is doing in the polls, it’s now irritating the hell out of me.I sigh. I’ve only taken two bites out of my medium-rare steak, though it is cooked to perfection, and I haven’t touched the roasted veggies beside it. I haven’t been able to eat much since I’ve gotten home. I don’t know if I got used to eating sandwiches and soup while being held in the shack or if my lack of appetite is due to my mind constantly thinking about that damn masked man.Either way, Liam’s mom is starting to notice my full plate compared to theirs.“Paetyn, honey. Are you okay?”I lift my eyes from the cold food and meet Angie’s gaze. Her light blue eyes hold a quizzical look about them as they search my face. Angie lowers her cutlery beside her empty plate and clasps her fingers together on her
Ace’s POVA scream pierces through the air, sharp and painful. Any normal person would cringe at the sound or be filled with such fear it would make their knees wobble like a newborn fawn. But I’m not a normal person. Never claimed to be. I’m the fucking devil. I squat in front of the man chained to the roof of the basement in the Gambino mansion. His trembling arms are attached to the hook on the low ceiling by a thick metal clasp. He hangs there helplessly, leaving the rest of his body exposed to me to do with as I please. My gaze rakes over the sweat and blood clinging to his pale skin. Bruises and gashes paint his body like the finest piece of artwork, thanks to my fists. Electricity thrums through my veins at the sight of this kid, not much older than nineteen if I had to guess. I should feel some ounce of remorse for punishing someone who is nowhere near mature enough to understand his actions. And some part of me wants to feel that because he doesn’t know any better. But I d
Paetyn’s POVI’m concerned about Ace. Last week, I noticed he had busted knuckles that were split and beginning to bruise around the torn skin. When I asked what happened to him, he gave me that same straight-faced look I always get when I asked questions about his job. I know he is an enforcer and has to hurt people, but it doesn’t make me any less worried about him when he leaves in the morning. Not knowing if he’s out on the streets in danger sends me into a spiral more often than not. I know he’s a man capable of looking after himself, but it still doesn’t ease the tension in my chest. He won’t tell me the details of his job, and I don’t expect him to, but sometimes I think I would be better off knowing to help me relax a little more. But until that day comes—if ever—I will have to get used to worrying about my boyfriend. Boyfriend. It’s an odd feeling thinking of him as that. Who would’ve known that Ace, my kidnapper and stalker, would become my boyfriend? Certainly not me, bu
Ace’s POVEnzo was adamant about this shakedown going smoothly. He doesn’t want a single thing to go wrong. The goal is to get the message across to the Bonanno crew and their leader, Antonio, that we’re not to be messed with. If they don’t back off, Enzo will have no problem coming at them full force with me at his side. And unfortunately for them, I like getting my hands dirty. All the made men in the group stand around me, black hoods covering their heads, concealing their identities. Enzo ensured they were equipped with every weapon under the sun that’ll be useful in protecting them if shit goes south. I’d like to think I have this under control. After all, Enzo trusted me to do this, so I’m going to do it right. “Does everyone remember the plan?” My voice is quiet but deep in an attempt to not be detected where we stand in the shadows of the quarry. The full moon is our only source of light, which works in our favor for staying hidden. “The Bonanno crew have a gun shipment comi
Ace’s POVIt took every ounce of self control I possessed to not kill Patrick Aster with my bare hands. The smug look on his face when he told Paetyn to publicly name herself as an obsessed ex-fiancee to save Liam’s ass, and in return she’ll recieve one million dollars, had me seeing red. If Paetyn wasn’t standing in front of me, I would have lunged for the motherfucker. As much as I wanted to paint my hands red with his blood for having the audacity to speak to my girl that way, I reigned in my temper and allowed her to make her own decisions. Plus, I got far too much enjoyment out of seeing his face when I answered as her boyfriend. I’m sure Pat will have a swell time informing his son of that development. Paetyn trails me as we walk the small pathway to the front door of our house. Her presence behind me is all-consuming, like a wildfire licking at my back, ready to devour me. Every inch of her is ingrained in my mind—there isn’t a thing I don’t know about this woman or what she
Paetyn’s POVThe Aster mansion sends chills down my spine. Every dinner I ate with them consisted of Liam and Pat talking about politics while Angie smiled and nodded along as if it were the most riveting of topics. I was always bored out of my mind because not only am I not interested in politics, but they hardly ever included me in their conversation. All they cared about was their precious son. The same son who had me kidnapped and held hostage as a trick for his campaign.I never thought I’d be back here after I ended the engagement with Liam, but now, here I stand, staring down the barrel of the gun. My muscles itch, desperate for me to turn around and hightail it back to the comfort of Ace’s house where I know I’m safe. Here… anything can happen. No one is truly safe in the presence of Patrick Aster.“Pae, are you okay?” Ace’s hand rests on my shoulder, his chest brushing my back. I lean into the warmth of his hand, soaking in the comfort his gentle touch brings me. “If you
Paetyn’s POVMy legs ache as I pace the bedroom, hands clasped firmly behind my back. The skin on my bottom lip is raw from the amount of times I’ve dragged my teeth over it, thoughts lost on the phone call I received this afternoon. Pat Aster wants to meet with me. Why? Why now after weeks of this back and forth with Liam? I’m sure he’s looking to squash this fire before it grows into an inferno, but how does he think this will go? Intimidate me until I roll over and pretend this never happened? He’s delusional if he thinks I’m going to allow his son to get away with what he did to me. Liam deserves every ounce of bad karma coming his way. It would be in my best interest to tell him to shove his meeting where the sun doesn’t shine because he doesn’t deserve a second of my town. But on the other hand, curiosity is pushing me toward needing to know what Pat’s intentions are. If I don’t show up on Monday, I may never know what he wants, and that worries me more than actually meetin
Ace’s POVVoices echo through my mind like an incessant pounding of a drum, grating on every last nerve. I grit my teeth to avoid telling everyone to shut up so I can think. It doesn’t help that we’re crammed into the formal dining room in Enzo’s mansion, waiting for him to arrive. My nails dig painfully into my palms, my fists pressed to my thighs. The wooden chair creak beneath my weight as I lean back, staring at the deep mahogany table I’m sure must’ve cost a fortune. Glasses of whiskey litter the vast space, consumed at different paces by the men occupying every seat. They’re men I’ve known for many years and respect, but right now, I want to get lost in my thoughts about a certain silver-haired woman. Walking the streets of New York City with Paetyn a few days ago was unexpected, and, dare I say, relaxing–eventually. The moment we stepped out of my house, her hand wrapped in mine, tension lined every muscle in my body. Even through lunch, I couldn’t help but feel as though som
Paetyn’s POV“Thank you for coming in today, Ben.” I push open the door to my office and move to the side, locking my gaze on the man not much older than me rising from his seat on the couch. “I have you scheduled for two weeks from today for your next session.”Ben rubs the back of his neck, unable to meet my eyes as he steps past me into the hallway. “Thank you, Miss Jones.” His large frame turns in the hallway, brown eyes lifting from the ground to meet mine. “I needed this.”I smile. “I’m glad to hear that. You’re making great progress with your anxiety and depression, so keep up with the techniques we spoke about today, and then we can discuss how they’ve helped in our next session.”Ben nods. “Of course. I’ll see you in two weeks.”My grip on the handle tightens, and I lift my hand in a wave. “Take care, Ben.” My client turns and walks down the hallway, disappearing into the foyer.I exhale a sharp breath and run a hand down the side of my face, exhaustion settling into my bones
Paetyn’s POV“I really shouldn’t have had that extra pizza slice.” A soft groan escapes my parted lips as I rub my stomach, regretting my recent choices. “You said you were hungry,” Ace points out, his arm brushing mine as we wander through Central Park. His hand tightens around my fingers, as if he’s claiming me for everyone to see. “I was only doing what you asked of me.”“I know,” I whine, tilting my head back with a pout turning down my lips. “But I wish you had told me no or dragged me past the food stand. It feels like my stomach is creating the largest food baby known to mankind.”Ace snorts a laugh. “Pae, you’re being dramatic.”“I don’t know that I am,” I murmur, returning my gaze forward. Central Park has to be the most stunning place during winter. Frost and snow cover the grass lining the walkway, and the benches require a mini snow plougher to rid them of the thick snow. Footprints from hundreds of people span the width of the walkway, telling a story of eager tourists