Page 6 of Resisting Royal

CHAPTER 4

BIANCA

The man standing in front of me was both threatening and passive all at once, and I couldn’t quite figure out how that was even possible. He sighed. “I told you not to scream, no one is going to hear you.”

I nodded in agreement because he was right, no one would hear me, and if they did, they would ignore it. It’s not like hearing screams at random hours was too crazy in this area. I took a step further into my closet, and he made no move at all. Crossing my arms over my chest, trying to shield my discomfort, I asked, “What do you want from me?”

“Well, first, I would like for you to not look at me like I’m ready to rape you. Also, could you tone down the high pitched, panicky voice a bit? I’ve got a bit of a headache.” He reached his hand up, completely relaxed as he tapped his fingers lightly on the top of my closet door frame. I glared, contemplating a nut shot to catch him off guard. “Don’t even think about it.”

Damn it, how did he know my thoughts? I took a calming breath. “Okay. Now, what is the real reason you have me trapped in my closet?”

“You really should make sure you’re keeping your doors locked. It was so easy just to walk in here. Not to mention how oblivious you are. You walked past me twice before I announced myself. Twice!” He went on, still not answering my question.

“Why are you in my closet?!” I screamed.

He blinked, looking at me like I was crazy while he mumbled, “Oh, he’s going to have fun with this wild cat.”

“Who? Who is going to have fun? Also . . . you? Closet? Answer!” The more time went by, the more positive I was this guy couldn’t hurt me if he tried. He couldn’t even keep his mind straight.

“Well, Bianca . . .” I shivered at the fact he knew my name, “I was sent here to fetch you at your father’s request.”

The mention of my father had my heart rate speeding. “My father? Is he okay? Is he hurt?”

“He is okay, for now. A little ah, beaten, I guess, but he will live. Probably.” He tapped the door frame one more time before bringing his arms down. “So, are you coming? Or do I have to carry you?”

He sounded so unsure about my father’s condition like he didn’t care either way. “What do you mean probably?”

He groaned. “He’s probably okay. He was alive when I left. Are you coming?”

“You are the most infuriating person I’ve ever met!” I tried not to, but I might have stomped my foot like a child.

He completely ignored my statement, but instead stepped forward, scooping me up and throwing me over his shoulder like I weighed nothing. A squeal escaped my mouth, followed by an oomph when my stomach hit his hard shoulder. I brought my fisted hands down on his back and pounded while trying to kick myself free, but his iron grip on me didn’t waver.

“Do you want the door locked?” he asked as we got to the front door. “It seems sort of counterproductive now since you didn’t lock it to keep people out, but who knows, maybe someone wants your outdated television.”

I growled. I couldn’t help it, he forced it out of me. “I don’t want my damn door locked; I want my feet touching the fucking ground!”

He tilted his face to look at me, a grin plastered on it. “Oh yeah, he’s going to have fun with you.”

He slammed my door, and despite my proclamation about not wanting it locked, he still managed to pull my housekey from his pocket, a key he obviously stole from me, and locked my door. He walked to the black SUV parked against the curb and opened the door, setting me down gently in the back.

He raised one eyebrow. “Just so you know, I have the child locks on.”

The door slammed before I could fully process the words. I screamed, letting my frustration consume his whole vehicle. When he walked around to the driver’s side, he muttered, “I hope I’m not around when they clash,” then he slammed the door.

We had been driving a few minutes when he looked at me through the mirror, “Seatbelt.”

I didn’t answer him but aggressively grabbed the nearest belt and pulled it as hard as I could before clicking the buckle in place. “Thank you.”

“Fuck off,” I muttered, and the jerk only smirked.

“I’m Troy, by the way.” His eyes met mine again, and I chose to ignore him. Instead, I crossed my arms in front of me, and turned my head, thoroughly annoyed with him and this whole situation. Why didn’t my father just call me? Why did he send this complete stranger to my house?

The drive to wherever we were going took about twenty minutes. He was driving through an industrial neighborhood when he suddenly turned through an opening in a chain-linked fence. His car drove through a space between lines of cars until we approached a set of large rusted double doors.

He rolled down his window and leaned out, speaking to a man who looked a bit gruffer then Troy himself did before he pulled back. He waited for the doors to open then drove through, the car suddenly going at an incline underground. “Where are you taking me? If my father is hurt, shouldn’t we be at a hospital?”

He ignored me, giving me a taste of the game that I was playing moments before. The car curved right before coming to a stop in a spot next to a line of other black vehicles. Without even glancing at me, he got out, walking to a man standing nearby. Whatever he said made the guy laugh, then they both looked toward the vehicle I sat silently in. There was another short exchange before Troy walked toward the door, opening it for me.

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