Page 11 of Captured By Fate

She stares at me incredulously, lips parting in disbelief. She opens her mouth to protest again but I silence her with one swift move. My hand grips her throat gently - not to hurt but to intimidate, to ensure she understands the gravity of her situation. Her eyes widen in alarm, a startled gasp escaping as she looks up at me, all defiant fire now doused with a drop of fear.

"And this," I say, leaning in close and seizing her lips in a brutish kiss, "is to seal my promise."

She freezes, shocked into silence by the audacity of my move. A moment lingers between us, a precipice where dominance and submission hangs in balance.

And then she bites down. Hard.

I taste blood, metallic and thick on my tongue, and I jerk back instinctively. Her teeth have torn open my lower lip, the sharp pain a jolt to my senses. My hand releases its hold on her throat as I touch a finger to the wound critically. She watches me with wide eyes - frightened yet defiant - then turns away in disgust.

"Accept it, Miss McLander," I chuckle through the sting of her bite, the taste of blood still fresh on my tongue. "This is your reality now."

She glares at me again but there's a wild look in her eyes now, a spark that wasn't there before. This woman is not one to be tamed easily. I can see that much. And while the thought should frighten me given her profession and potential to undo everything I've worked for, it doesn’t.

Instead, it excites me.

Intrigued by the fire I see in those brown orbs, I stand up, patting my pockets to find a handkerchief. I dab at the blood on my lip, my gaze never leaving her.

A wry smile forms on her face as she holds my gaze, daring me with her defiance. The very audacity of it makes me chuckle, the sound echoing through the room.

"Your spirit is commendable," I say, folding the bloodied handkerchief and stuffing it back into my pocket. "But don't mistake my admiration for leniency."

She glares at me but remains silent, her breath catching when I slowly approach her again. This time, I merely squat down to be at eye level with her.

"Stay put and do not mess things up again," I order coolly.

The harshness of my words obviously strikes something in her, but she nods in understanding - a small victory on my part.

I stand and stride towards the door with a sense of accomplishment expanding in my chest. Upon reaching the entrance, I glance over my shoulder one last time to take in her bewildered expression.

"Don't worry," I reassure her with a grin, "we'll be moving to more spacious accommodations soon."

Her eyes widen at my words as she takes in the implications but before she can voice any objections, I shut the office door behind me.

Taking a moment to compose myself outside, I allow myself an indulgent sigh of satisfaction. There's something about this woman - something dangerous yet captivating - that draws me to her like a moth to flame.

7

KELLEY

The door closes behind Jackson with a snap. He left me here, tied to this chair with his belt securely wrapped around me.

“Shit,” I whisper, looking frantically around the room. I see no way to get out other than the high windows.

The room is sparsely decorated, the stark white walls are devoid of any art. The only furniture besides the hardwood chair I’m bound to, is a mahogany desk littered with papers, a typewriter, and an old dusty lamp.

I start to rock my body back and forth, hoping to loosen Jackson's belt. My heart throbs in my chest like a wild drum, echoing in my ears.

I focus on the belt's buckle, it gleams menacingly under the drab fluorescent light. It digs into my ribs, cold and unyielding.

But then, a glimmer of hope sparks to life as I notice the unevenness in the leather strap. I stop squirming for a moment and decide to meticulously work on that weak spot.

My fingers start to probe aimlessly at first but eventually find rhythm, playing with the edge of the belt like a fine instrument. A bead of sweat trickles down from my forehead, stinging my eyes, but I don't stop. I continue fiddling with it, twisting and turning, each little tug bringing me closer to freedom.

Then, suddenly, there’s give. Not much, but enough to make me hopeful. Using all my strength I pull at the unraveled edge, feeling the abrasive leather scrape against my palms until at last - it snaps!

With a sigh of relief, I let out a breath that I hadn’t realized I was holding as the belt falls away from me like a limp snake. My wrists burn and ache in retaliation of their sudden freedom but it's nothing compared to the sweet taste of liberation.

I get up from my confinement slowly and stagger towards the high windows.

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