Page 37 of Tormented Heir

The door bursts open.

“Boss, another one in here,” a deep, accented voice shouts out.

“He’s coming,” a different voice answers.

There’s a long beat, and then voice number two says, “Look at that ass. I claim this one.”

“Undo her restraints, and let’s take a proper look.”

Terror fills me. Who are these men? They don’t sound like they are part of Dorian’s team. They are talking about me as if they have no idea who I am.

Footsteps thud across the carpet. I’m freed from the padded restraints around my wrists. My arms throb in pain when the men roughly turn me over.

I find myself staring up at two giants. These men are huge. So big they look cartoonish.

“Holy fuck, she’s gorgeous.” The blond one grins at me.

Another man enters the room, and the two men immediately still.

They stop smirking and stand as if at attention.

The new man has an energy around him. Something dark and dangerous, it moves with him as he steps closer, like a forcefield of threat. His movements are easy, almost lazy, and that’s what makes him so scary. He’s like a big cat, prowling on the savanna, knowing he’s king of it all.

I stare at him, unable to look away as he approaches the men. This one is not cartoonishly pumped like these two goons, but he’s tall, and so broad, with muscles that fill his suit. His clothes scream money, and his dark hair shines as the lights hit it.

I’m incredibly aware of my almost naked state. I want to disappear and make myself small, but there’s nowhere to go, nowhere for me to hide.

“Mila is safe,” the new man says to the goons.

Goon One smiles. “Good news, boss. I suppose that means we are done here?”

Mila. They are here for Mila. Please, God, let this be the end of this horror show. Let me be set free.

“Except for the bit where we have to party on the yacht for a while and show that we’ve taken the spoils.” The boss sighs and scrubs his hand over his short beard. He hasn’t really looked at me yet. He’s glancing around the room, disdain written all over his striking features.

I don’t blame him; the room looks like something out of a bad taste guide. It’s as if someone vomited all the colors of the rainbow into the bits and pieces placed in it.

“Boss, can I have this one? She’s incredible.” The goon’s words deflate my hopes of being saved. They also snap the man out of his horrified reverie of the room.

The boss walks toward the bed and looks down at me.

I stare back at him as he continues to study me. His eyes widen a tiny bit, and his chest rises with his inhale.

For a moment, the world recedes. If I thought he had an aura from across the room, it’s nothing compared to being in the laser beam of his attention like this.

We watch one another as if we’re having a conversation.

It’s the oddest sensation, as if somehow, I know a deep, dark part of this man, but I cannot because I’ve never met him before.

The gag means I can’t speak, but I try to plead with my eyes.

Just let me go. Please let me go.

“Who is she?” one of the big men asks, pointing at me but looking over his shoulder. “Is she your boss’ girl?”

Who is he talking to? I glance at the door to see my hated, skinny guard. He’s being held up only by the big arms around his middle, and he’s all floppy like a ragdoll. The guy holding him shakes him just like a doll too.

The men all turn to look at my half-dead captor as he’s given another shake. The big, beefy guy points at me again, brows raised. “Who is she?”

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