Page 7 of Tied

Chapter 4

Cain

It's so much easier when they are led to believe that this is what's supposed to happen. When they think they're about to become a part of something special, something secretive and exciting. A job interview for some secret government work maybe, or becoming a spy for the greater cause—something like that.

It's easy to make them believe that stuff, and once they've fallen for that lie, it's child’s play to lure them right into the trap.

Miss Riley Prey is no different. She's a smart girl, but she's also young, naive, and a little too curious for her own good.

She thinks this interview is for a job that sounds almost too good to be true, too exciting, too well-paid, too unique.

I wonder if no one ever told her: if things seem too good be true, then they probably are.

Riley may be a genius and skilled at what she does, but lucky for me, she's also a little gullible.

Despite what just happened to her, she's not screaming or showing even the slightest signs of resistance when she's brought to me. Her face is covered with a linen bag and her hands are tied behind her back as she is escorted into the room, wedged between the two guys I hired to do the dirty work for me. I'm the trainer, not the abductor. That kind of work is left for the henchmen, those who don't mind serving as nothing but pure muscle.

However, these two—known to me only as Jack and Kyle—are a little more than that. They are professionals, as trained and skilled in the art of observation as they are in assault and abduction. They've been watching her ever since she stepped into the coffeehouse, and despite scrutinizing her surroundings, Riley never noticed them. Or maybe she didn't want to see them.

She's breathing heavily, but not saying a word when they stop and let go of her. Kyle grants her a little push, causing her to stumble forward, almost losing her balance.

I gesture for them to leave, approaching the trembling girl with slow, steady steps while they quietly leave the room and close the door behind them.

She looks lost as she stands there, right in the middle of the large, scarcely decorated room that serves as my office. There's nothing here but a large cherry wood desk with a heavy upholstered chair behind it and two leather-coated chairs opposite the desk, an almost empty book shelf next to the door, and a Monstera plant to my left, right in front of floor-length windows framed with white curtains. I don't like distractions when I sit down here to get some work done. And I use this room for negotiations with people who may or may not be willing to work for me.

I'm guessing Riley will be part of the latter, once she realizes that this is neither a regular job interview nor a game.

This is dead fucking serious.

She can't see me, but she senses my presence when I come closer. Her shoulders are tense and pulled up to her ears, a subtle tremor traveling through her body as she visibly fights to remain calm.

She's scared, but not quite as terrified as she should be.

As I come to a halt right in front of her, she stiffens and I hold my breath, listening to the muffled hissing that leaves her lips beneath the linen bag.

“This is fine. You're fine. Chill. Calm down, Riley.”

How cute. Still talking to herself, still her own bodyguard, her only confidante in a world that is out to get her.

No, you're not fine, little Riley. But you just go on and keep telling yourself that you are.

She flinches when I lift my hand, hardly touching her as the tip of my index finger journeys along her left upper arm. She's wearing a black suit jacket with a white blouse underneath, looking all professional with her matching dark suit pants and pointy ballerina shoes. The only mismatch in her outfit is the oversized scarf on which the linen bag rests. It’s practical more than chic, and a typical choice for a girl like Riley.

Other than the scarf, I know this outfit is not even close to her regular everyday look. She's a sneaker girl, favoring jeans and shirts with silly prints over a suited business outfit like this.

I can still see the way her hardened nipples were poking through the fabric of her t-shirt when I took away her bra and forced her back to her workplace like that, with her arousal on clear display for everyone who happened to walk into her office.

I can still hear her vicious voice as she spat curses at me when I made her walk away with her pussy drooling and throbbing with need, a need that I refused to sate.

Oh, how beautifully she suffered.

Months have passed since then, but the memories are burnt into my mind, tormenting me and forcing me to track her down after she vanished into thin air.

Riley will pay for this. She will receive a punishment unlike any she's had before.

It's necessary—and well deserved.

“H-h-hello?” she stammers now, her head moving aimlessly as she tries to figure out where exactly that subtle touch on her arm is coming from.

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