Page 39 of Sinister Intentions

I knelt before her, tried to soothe her panicked state by squeezing her forearm. “Jemma, it’s me, Vince Salvini. You’re safe; no one’s going to hurt you.”

Her scream was piercing, echoing off the walls of the room. She thrashed violently against the ropes binding her to the chair, eyes wild and unfocused. There was zero recognition on her face—only sheer, animalistic terror.

I reached out, placing my hands firmly on her cheeks in an attempt to still her frantic movements. “Jemma, stop! You need to breathe.”

But my words fell on deaf ears.

She continued to scream, her cries becoming more desperate and anguished with each passing second. It was as if she couldn’t even see or hear me, trapped in the grips of an overwhelming panic.

I stared at her, a surge of regret washing through me.

This wasn’t at all how I’d envisioned our encounter going. I wanted to scare her straight; wanted to confront her about following me; maybe even get answers about the hacking and where the money went. But now, seeing the sheer terror etched across her features, I knew I’d made a grave miscalculation. Just because she hadn’t been afraid while facing me in her home, didn’t mean she would remain cool in every situation.

Fuck.

“Jemma, focus,” I barked. “It’s me, Vince.”

She still didn’t respond to my voice and fought against her bindings with every ounce of strength she possessed. The chair creaked and strained against her violent movements.

“You’re going to hurt yourself.” I reached out and grabbed her shoulders in an attempt to stop her convulsions, but she only fought harder against my grip. Her wrists were already rubbed raw from the ropes digging into her flesh as she struggled.

She gasped desperately for air, her face turning an alarming shade of red. At this rate, she was going to pass out from sheer hyperventilation—maybe that would be a good thing.

“Jemma, listen to me!” My voice was strained, but I tried to make it as calm and steady as possible. “You need to calm down and breathe or you’ll pass out.”

There was no change in her wild, unfocused eyes.

What the hell had happened to her? Where was this terror coming from? Had she been held captive before?

Fuck.

Sweat beaded on my brow as I stared at her. Part of me wanted to untie her then, to free her from the ropes that were no doubt adding to her anxiety. But the frenzied way she fought told me that releasing her now could result in her accidentally injuring herself or me in her panicked state. For a split second, the thought of hitting her crossed my mind—a harsh slap to snap her out of this hysterical state.

But the mere idea made me sick to my stomach, a wave of revulsion crashing over me at the consideration of such violence against her. Disgusted with myself, I pushed the thought from my mind. I’d witnessed once how my father had hit my mother—one time of probably many more occasions she’d hidden from me. There had to be another way to calm her, to pull her back from the brink of whatever abyss she was trapped in.

My gaze drifted around the dimly lit room, as I searched for anything that could help diffuse the situation. Finally, my eyes landed on the glass sliding door that led out to the deck and the heated pool outside. Maybe shocking her out of her state this way would work.

With a surge of determination, I strode over to the glass sliding door and flung it open.

Without a moment’s hesitation, I bent down and grabbed the chair she was bound to, lifting it and her clear off the ground. I carried her outside onto the deck, her eyes still wide and wild.

As I approached the edge of the pool, I hesitated. What if she inhaled water and drowned?

I looked down at her. Shit, right now, that was a risk I was willing to take.

For a split second, our eyes met, and I saw the sheer terror reflected in her gaze. “Better hold your breath, girl,” I said right before I leaped forward.

We hit the water with a massive splash, the cool engulfing us instantly. I allowed us to sink beneath the surface for a second before I kicked hard, propelling us back to the surface.

I drew in a deep breath as our heads broke through and immediately looked at Jemma in my arms.

She was coughing and sputtering, but at least her panic was gone.

Shocked out of her system by the water.

“God, you’re a piece of work!” I barked, treading water to keep us both afloat.

Her eyes were still wide with terror, or maybe the terror had been replaced by the shock that jolted her back to reality.

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