Page 12 of Soul Of A Villain

“You have a very pretty name. Unusual spelling, too. Were you born in London?” he asked, his eyes flickering back to her. “Or perhaps your parents enjoyed vacationing there?”

Londyn suspected that the folder he held lightly in his large hands contained every bit of information the ranch had gathered on her. Within those pages was her life story, including how she’d ended up trapped inside this ornate birdcage of a prison.

“No. I was not born in London. And my older sister was not born in Paris. My mom barely had enough money to buy a can of soup when she was pregnant with me, much less take vacations.” Londyn could not keep the sad bitterness out of the words. The meager amount of money her mom had made working as a waitress was wasted on alcohol, cigarettes, men, and rent on the dilapidated trailer they called home. “I never knew my dad. He was out of the picture by the time I was six months old.”

Londyn bit her tongue, appalled at herself for spilling such personal details. This man, herowneras he referred to himself, did not have the right to know these things about her life.

“Hmm,” was his noncommittal response to her sharing painful truths. He silently read for a few moments, then gave her a sharply quizzical look. “You entered the auction voluntarily. Why?”

Answering his questions was pointless when all the information was in front of him. This was simply a way of exerting control. Her lips thinned as she realized she must appease him while subtly asserting herself. “Please… may I use the bathroom? I’ll answer your questions after.”

He considered it for a long moment, his gaze scrutinizing her for any signs of deception. Londyn forced her face into a blank mask and did not blink under his perusal.

“Let me make something clear to you, Londyn. There is no escape from this cabin. There are alarms onallthe doors and windows and if you try opening one, I will know immediately. And the punishment for that, for trying something so stupid, will be severe. Do you understand?”

“Yes,” Londyn breathed. She didn’t care if the alarms went off like a breakout at a maximum-security prison; if there were a way of getting a window open, she would be gone before he could get to her. “I just want to use the bathroom. And maybe… maybe clean up a little?”

He unfolded himself from the chair to stand at his full height. Londyn swallowed nervously. He was so tall, at least six foot three, perfectly proportioned with a lean build and well-defined muscles. Taking a key out of his front pocket, he unlocked the door and punched in a code on the keypad. When the lock clicked twice, the door swung open.

“Come on.” His hand extended to her, waiting for her to accept his assistance. Londyn trembled, clutching the blanket around her as she placed her hand in his. He pulled her onto her feet and waited until her cramped limbs acclimated to the change in position. When she swayed a little, his arm snaked around her waist. “Steady, now.”

This unexpected benevolence confused Londyn. It was almost… tender.

Such strange behavior from a man who would likely eliminate her soon.

ChapterEight

Londyn

Londyn heldthe blanket tighter around her as he led her to the bathroom. It was a large space. Sleek and cold, with every amenity of a five-star hotel.

“You can take a shower if you like.” After pulling a few towels from the cabinet, he motioned to a hook where a clean, lush bathrobe hung. “Put that on when you get out.”

“I’d rather have some real clothes…” she began, but her words faltered when she saw his smirk.

“Sorry, Londyn. I won’t allow that at the moment. Be grateful for the robe. After all, I could require that you are nude at all times.” He stepped closer, tilting her chin using the knuckle of his index finger. The light in the bathroom was bright and unforgiving, finally revealing the letters inked onto his fingers.

MINE.

Londyn’s stomach flipped-flopped. It was hitting home just how fucked-up this situation was. This man had purchased her. To use. To rape. To possibly murder. She became lightheaded at the reality, her skin tone turning pale.

“Are you okay?” her captor asked. “You’re trembling.”

Was he that oblivious to the reasons for her current state? Of course, she was shaking like a leaf. She was terrified.

“I’m fine,” she gritted out between clenched teeth. From his expression, she knew he did not believe her, but he nodded and took a few steps toward the door.

“Come to the kitchen when you are done. It’s down the hall from the bedroom. You have fifteen minutes before I come and collect you.”

Londyn dipped her head in agreement, wrapping her arms around her midsection. One thing she must do was humanize herself to him. She needed to be more than just an object if she was going to survive this. They must have some sort of connection. A relationship she could exploit the moment an opportunity to escape presented itself.

“Thank you…um…Mister…”

He grinned, so charming and handsome that crazily enough, Londyn almost smiled back.

“My name is Oliver. Oliver Winter. And I can’t wait to hear you scream it.”

Londyn’s chin lifted. She knew her reaction was foolishly reckless, but she couldn’t help herself. “You’ll be waiting a long time, then.” Her glare should have blistered his flesh, but her fierceness only amused him.

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