Page 9 of Tied

Chapter 5

Riley

Oh my God. He sounds so much like him!

I wasn’t sure before when I only heard him speak on the video call, but now that he’s this close to me, hissing those familiar words—I can no longer deny the resemblance.

Do you understand that, little Miss Riley?

No one ever speaks like that to me. No one ever calls me little Miss Riley. No one ever demands this kind of obedience and humility.

No one but him.

The man who got me fired from my old job.

But this was months ago, in a city thousands of miles away from here. The man back then was not called Mr. Stanford. He was not working in the digital security sector. He was an investor, interested in supporting one of the apps my company was working on—and we met because I was the lead developer of said app.

It was a different time, a different city, a different life—and definitely a different man.

Right?

It must be.

But why is this man speaking to me like this? Why is he touching me like that man did before? It’s highly inappropriate, even for a special job interview.

My heart speeds at that thought. I’ll admit, this was exciting at first, even after I was blindfolded, tied up, and pushed into the back seat of a car, forced to stay low by a strong arm as the car sped here.

I was terrified at first, and so deep in shock that I didn’t dare make a single noise, ask a single question, make a single movement.

It’s true that those guys were rough with me—I can still feel the imprint of a vicious fist encircling my upper arm—but they didn’t hurt me. I was told to stay quiet, so that’s what I did.

I convinced myself not to freak out, because it may cost me the job. They probably wanted to intimidate me just to see how strong I am, how resilient—and how proficient I would be when I had to work under pressure.

And they put that horrible bag over my head because they didn’t want me to see where we were going, just in case I didn’t prove myself worthy and did not get offered the job.

That must be it, right?

But does it explain Mr. Stanford’s odd behavior now?

He starts moving around me again, after pausing way too long behind my back, literally breathing down my neck as he hissed those words. It was the first time I was grateful for the linen bag covering my head because it provided a barrier between us.

I can hear his heavy footsteps to the left of me now, moving with a painfully slow gait. His presence is palpable, the warmth of his body so close to mine—and it is so weirdly comforting.

“Who are you?” I blurt out.

I must know. Even though he forbid me from asking questions.

I expect him to lecture me about that again, but this time he deigns to give me a response.

“Riley, Riley,” he says, and by the direction his voice is coming from, I can tell that he is standing right in front of me.

“I’m disappointed.”

Disappointed? What did I do wrong now?

Before I manage to say a word, I’m silenced by his hands at my throat. I jerk back automatically, but he holds me back by the string around my neck.

“Watch it!” he warns me. “You’re going to strangle yourself.”

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