Page 8 of Darkest Sin

Feeling the subtle sensation of movement, I peel my heavy eyelids open and come back to reality. I’m still in the backseat of a car, and my new Romanian captor is right where I left him. I feel as though I’ve either been hit by a brick or knocked out for a whole lifetime. My body is heavy, and my limbs can barely move.

He knocked me out.

I don’t know what was in that pill he gave me, but it did a shitload more than just help me relax. On the plus side, my filthy lingerie is still intact with the addition of his suit jacket to keep me warm. Though, I don’t know how to feel about that. It’s a sweet gesture, but something tells me this man is anything but sweet.

When we first got in the car, we headed right out of the city and deep into the mountains. Despite the late hour, I could see cars passing every few seconds, especially when we were still within the city limits, but now, glancing out the dark-tinted window, there’s not another car in sight.

“Good timing. We’re almost home,” that thick Romanian accent says from beside me.

Home. Right, because that’s what his place is about to become for me. Though the jury is still out on what kind of living conditions I’ll be provided. I’m assuming cuffs and a murky dungeon are probably his style.

I sit up, realizing my seat has been reclined, though how that happened is beyond me. After adjusting the seat to its proper upright position, I pull his suit jacket off me and hesitantly place it down between us. “How long was I out?”

“A few hours.”

Shit.

The roads are windy and uneven, and my stomach begins to grow uneasy when the driver approaches a huge property hidden deep within the mountains. Every inch of the land is perfectly manicured and well presented, purposefully built for isolation and privacy—the perfect place to hide something you wouldn’t want found.

We pull into a wide driveway and stop at a black, iron gate as the driver enters a code. I’m completely taken aback by the sight of armed guards standing on either side of the gate. My hands shake, and I try to convince myself that this was expected, but honestly, I hadn’t given it a damn thought.

What kind of powerful man requires armed guards? What the hell have I just been brought into?

Trying to breathe through the uneasy feeling growing in the pit of my stomach, I do what I can to look past the guards and peer through the windshield at what awaits me. The big gate starts to peel back, and I find myself lost for words.

The expansive driveway is lit on both sides, and the stunning bushland leading deep into the property creates an eerie treetop canopy overhead. I know without a doubt that daylight has nothing on this place. If my Romanian purchaser built this property, he did it with his nightlife in mind. The driveway is architecturally designed with stunning natural stones that take my breath away. The soft lighting on either side of the driveway only makes the scene that much better.

We drive through the winding entrance, and I’m struck with the sight of a stunning stone mansion with a modern take on the traditional Georgian style. It incorporates soft grays and natural sandstone and is the perfect estate to suit this Romanian mystery beside me. There’s a grand entrance with tall pillars, and a stunning balcony rests on top—probably accessible from the master bedroom. This place has got to be at least three or four stories high and wider than a football field.

Lights are on inside, and the way the soft glow sails through the darkness is breathtaking, leaving me desperate to explore the rest of the property. I can only imagine the type of secrets this home has to discover. Just the thought of the type of pool this home could have gets me stupidly excited—natural stone waterfalls, a hidden cave, and of course, a faux beach and spa. Although, it’s not like I’m here for a vacation. I doubt I’ll be enjoying the place one bit. This man put me on a train with a one-way ticket to hell, no refunds or exchanges. I doubt I’ll ever step foot outside the dungeon he probably has waiting for me.

As we get closer to the home, the thick forest begins to thin out until it’s nothing but manicured grass with tidy bushes lining the driveway. It opens up wider into a big circular bay, and as the driver begins to pull around it, a wave of anxious nerves pulses through my veins.

I sink lower into my seat and spare a glance at the stranger beside me.

He sits casually with one foot propped up on his knee and his elbow resting against the groove in the door as if he hasn’t got a care in the world. He glances out the window overlooking his expansive property, but he knows I’m watching him. I have a feeling this is a man who misses nothing. However, if he doesn’t care that he holds my attention, then I’ll take in every last detail until he demands I stop.

He’s so tall that even in this huge SUV, his head is nearly skimming the roof while his knees are almost touching the driver’s seat before him. On the other hand, my knees are nowhere near touching the seat in front of me. I’m barely five foot three.

The SUV pulls to a stop, and my hands shake violently in my lap. The engine idles as the driver puts the car into park and pushes his door wide, making his way around. My Romanian captor exits the car first, and just as I’m left wondering what the hell I’m supposed to do, the driver appears at my door, pulling it open before waving me out. “Miss,” he says with a curt nod, barely sparing me a glance.

I swallow hard, my stomach flipping with unease as I slide out of the SUV and trail around to face the impressive home. Mr. DoAsISayOrSufferTheConsequences is already halfway up the stairs, and I hurry after him, not sure what it would mean to keep him waiting, though I doubt I want to find out.

It seems so much colder here than back at the abandoned industrial estate, and I try to ignore the way my body shakes. It could be the temperature, or it could be out of pure fear of the unknown. It’s all too clear that my life changed the second I laid eyes on this man in the darkest corner of the underground warehouse, but stepping inside his home makes it real. I don’t know what to expect or what he intends for me. All I know is that one foot out of line is going to see me occupying a shallow grave.

By the time he reaches the top step, the door opens from within, and he strides right through it without bothering to glance back at me. I scurry after him, finding his home alive with staff, despite the late hour.

A doorman stands just inside the foyer, silently welcoming me and ignoring the state of my undress like it’s a regular occurrence. He simply closes the door behind me and takes a step out of the way, silently blending into the background but staying close to be available to his boss.

My stride slows as my gaze sails around the large foyer, trying to take in as much as I can before he catches me lagging behind. But when he moves to the adjoining living area and hands his suit jacket to an older lady who I can only assume is his housekeeper, I make sure to be right there at his beck and call.

He turns toward me in a black dress shirt, his top two buttons undone, showing off just a sliver of tanned skin and the top of what I can tell are very defined pecs. He slowly rolls up his sleeves to his elbows as he watches me, and while he looks casual and relaxed, I doubt he’s anything but.

“This is my home. Your home,” he tells me in that thick accent. I keep myself a few feet away and watch nervously as his housekeeper scurries out of the room. “This is where you will stay. You will live freely here. You may roam the halls and explore as you please, so long as you continue to behave as required.”

My brows furrow as I stare up at him, hating just how uneasy I feel in front of this man. I don’t think I’ve ever been intimidated by a man in my life, and yet here I am, barely able to meet his eyes in fear of him pulling me in with that wicked intensity. “I get to roam freely?” I question, confusion rattling my bones. “I was under the impression that I was a prisoner here.”

“I do not like the term prisoner,” he tells me. “That is reserved for those who have wronged me and require punishment. You have done no such thing. You are not my prisoner. However, you are my property. I own you, your body, your mind, everything that you are belongs to me. You will be in my company, and I intend for our time together to be pleasant. So yes, I will allow you to live freely in my home. Generosity does not come easily to me. I am not a kind man by nature, and if I feel my generosity has been disrespected in any way, then it shall be stripped without question. And trust me when I tell you that you will not like the conditions you find yourself in.”

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