Page 5 of Sinfully His

“I… uh…” My arms started shaking, and I tensed my muscles, not wanting this stranger to see how terrified I was. I looked around the room and realized I did not know where I was. This was getting worse by the second.

Between being dropped off at the wrong place and getting hit and dragged into that alley, I wasn’t sure what block I was on. I didn’t even see which building he brought me into. I only knew that the hallways outside this room were dark and empty. If I screamed, I would just make him angry. There was no one to hear me. I almost wished I was back in that alley. At least out there, I had the chance of a police officer or someone more chivalrous than this stranger finding me.

When the stranger brought me inside the room, it was pitch black, and now it was lit only by a single candle.

I did not know where I was or where the door to get out of this room was located.

I swallowed hard, my throat suddenly dry with panic and tears burning in my eyes. The air was dusty down here. It was cold, but not as cold as outside, and I could smell incense and books. An office or a library of some kind, but that was it.

“I said, take off your clothes,” his voice repeated. “I don’t have all day.”

I opened and closed my mouth several times, the tears now spilling down my cheeks and fear choking me. Even if I knew what to say, I couldn’t speak.

The stranger stood in the shadows. I couldn’t see his face, but I saw his body, which was dressed in black slacks and a black button-down shirt. His broad shoulders and powerful arms strained against the fabric of his shirt as he crossed his arms, impatiently waiting for me to comply with his order.

He was big, and I knew he was strong. There was no way I could fight him off.

His thickly veined hands, with blood drying on his knuckles and covering his gold pinky ring, visibly rested in the crooks of his arms.

Even a sheltered Upper East Side princess like me knew only gangsters and thugs wore gold pinky rings, especially ones with large inlaid rubies. I’d bet the sharp edges of the stone cut the other men. Were they even red rubies? Maybe they were diamonds covered in blood?

I shook my head.

My eyes returned to the floor, and I tried not to jump with every tick of a clock from somewhere in this room. I was so on edge that even the clock’s steady tick made me anxious, like it was counting down the seconds I had left.

“Speak up, girl.” I jumped at the bite in his words but stayed silent. “When I speak to you, you will look at me.”

I couldn’t do it. I was frozen in place, unable to move except for the trembling in my arms and legs.

“Jesus, look at you. So pathetic. You’re shaking, like one of those ridiculous dogs in purses.”

“Please,” I whimpered, still staring at the dark wood floor.

“What was that? I can’t hear you when you mumble,” he said, leaning closer to me and entering my personal space.

My fight-or-flight instincts kicked in, and I backed away from him, sliding down the leather couch until I reached the arm. I was about to bolt away, or at least try, when his hand grabbed my arm and held tight. He leaned over the back of the couch, hovering over me close enough that I could almost make out his features in the dim light. There was something familiar about them, but I couldn’t place what it was.

“Where do you think you are going?”

His voice was low and dark, and sent a fresh wave of terror washing over me.

“Please, I just want to go home. Please let me go. I can pay you. I can?—”

As soon as I started talking, I couldn’t seem to stop. I was blathering on, and his hand stayed tight on my arm.

“Please, I can pay. Do you want money, gold, or jewels? I’m sure I can?—”

“I have no need of your jewels,” he scoffed. “Take off your clothes.” His own large hands moved to his collar to unbutton his shirt.

My heart pounded, and a cold sweat broke out over my back as I looked around, needing to find something to fight him off with, somewhere to run.

The only thing I could see in the room was a glint off the gilded edges of books.

“Look, take this, take it as a deposit,” I said, clawing the gold Cartier watch from my wrist. I never really liked how the watch looked, but it was a gift from my father, and I loved it. But not as much as I loved breathing. My father would be disappointed I had lost it, but not as disappointed as he would be if my life or virtue weren’t intact.

The stranger stripped off his shirt and held it out to me.

“You’re filthy. Take off your shirt and put this on. Your clothes smell like that alley.”

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