Page 2 of Bound to the Orc Warlord

“You’re not what you seemed, either. You’re not going to help those kids.” My voice shakes almost as much as the finger I point at the poster on his wall. It shows a photo of smiling teens from the orphanage I grew up in. I’d been so happy to visit that day and tell the administrator all about my plans for supplementing their tutoring programs to help those kids have a fighting chance at getting college scholarships.

“They’ll be fine.” His eyes flick away from the poster with a dismissive roll.

Another lie. Does he know how hard it is to keep up with the rich kids who have tutors and new computers and the attention of parents helping every evening? I do. I fought every day to make it into college with all the odds stacked against me, and I kept right on working all the way through my philanthropy degree.

He gives a sharp tug that jerks my head sideways in a flash of pain. “This red hair of yours should have warned me you were trouble.”

I can’t help the pained whine that escapes… or the fear that stabs icy fingers through my belly.

He yanks the phone from my hand, his thumb sliding across the screen as he swipes through all the photos I texted. He glares at it for several seconds, his body still but for a thrumming tension that feels like the first vibrations of a volcano threatening to blow.

It hits the floor with a sharp crack, and he grinds it under his heel in a crunch of shattered glass.

I wince. That phone cost me a month’s wages, and I couldn’t afford the extended warranty. It’s going to wipe out every freaking penny of my emergency savings to replace it.

He grabs my upper arm in a vice-like grip and marches me into the hall, and I stop worrying about the phone.

What’s he going to do tome?

“Bruno,” he shouts.

“Yeah, boss?” Bruno steps out of the break room, his wide shoulders almost brushing the doorframe on each side. Why had I never noticed that the entire staff here looks like extras from a gangster movie?

“You’re on babysitting duty.” Mr. Caprio shoves me into the supply closet, and I back away from him until metal shelves diginto my butt and shoulders. The two men fill the doorway. I’m trapped.

“For how long?” Bruno asks.

“For however long I say it is.”

“Sure, sure, you’re the boss.” Bruno pats the air with one hand. “Just wondering if anyone’s going to come looking, is all.”

“No, she’s got no one.” Mr. Caprio’s cold eyes stare at me, as emotionless as a snake’s. “That’s one of the reasons I picked her. Poor little orphan no one will miss.”

It’s an old hurt, but one that still stings. I hate when tears prickle my eyes and this asshole smiles.

I open my mouth, sucking in a big breath to start yelling.

“If she makes any trouble, take care of it.” His mouth hardens and his expression becomes terrifying. “In any way you have to.”

The door closes, locking me in darkness.

Oh, god. My knees give out, and I sink to the hard floor. I knew blowing the whistle would lose me this job—hopefully, when their fake charity got shut down—but I hadn’t realized he’dhurtme.

It’s stuffy in the closet with the door closed, but I still shiver in the dark and rub at my bare arms. Without my phone, I’ve got no way to tell time, but the party continues like normal, big male voices full of bluster and laughter.

Then all the guys filter past Bruno, calling goodbyes.

This is my chance! I rush to the door. “It’s Ashley. I’m in here. Somebody let me out!”

Instead of outraged voices yelling to set me free, they all laugh, and Tony says, “If you get done babysitting in time, we’ll be at Rizzio’s.” It’s their favorite nightclub, the one they all talk about on Monday mornings. The one they never invite me to.

God, theyknow. They all know I’m locked in this closet, and none of them will help me.

I sink back down to the floor, my stomach curdled with worry. What’s Mr. Caprio going to do to me?

I play with my necklace, my fingers rubbing over the smooth sides of the quartz pendant. It’s the only thing I have of my mother, who passed when I was a toddler. My memories of her are hazy, like a photograph worn at the edges from being handled too much. Warmth and love and arms hugging me close… and her sweet voice singing to me as I played with this necklace, waving it in a tiny fist.

I grasp for that feeling of love now, whispering my words directly into the crystal.

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