Page 51 of Dangerous

“You’ve mistreated my wife.” His voice was as calm as his face, but there was an unmistakable threat lurking beneath the surface.

“The little bitch struggled,” my father said calmly as he sauntered up next to Blaine. “And this ain’t the Ritz. What have you got in the briefcase, kid? Something that will make this go down the easy way, I hope.”

Finally, Blaine took his gaze off me and leveled it at my father. “This is every deed to every business, estate and asset my family owns, along with the key to every one of our bank deposit boxes. There’s also a small upfront payment of £200,000, as you requested. Upon the safe return of Mira and myself, my father will call a meeting with the other heads of London’s underworld and let them know you now own our empire.”

“And what guarantee do I have the old man will keep his word?” Despite his attempt at sounding tough, my father couldn’t keep his eyes off the briefcase. His excitement was nearly palpable, even across the room.

Blaine arched an eyebrow at him. “I do believe handing over the deeds to everything we own is a reasonable insurance. But if you insist, please do go through the paperwork. I can wait.”

My father practically snatched the briefcase out of Blaine’s hands and ripped it open. I couldn’t see the contents, but from the look on my father’s face, it was everything Blaine had said it was.

I frowned with confusion. How the hell had Blaine convinced his father to do this?

Andwhy?

He looked at me again then, and my heart gave an achy spasm in my chest at the change in his stormy eyes.

There was still anger in them, yes, but behind there was so much more. Devotion. Need.

Love.

I stared at him, faintly aware my mouth was hanging open as my brain finally processed what my heart had hoped for in the most shameful, most secret parts of my soul.

It was love that had made my husband come to this dark warehouse to get me—love that had made him give in to blackmail, and love that had made him somehow do the impossible and get his father to give up his empire. I still had no idea how he had done it, but the why was so painfully clear on his beautiful face as he watched me from across the concrete floor.

He loved me.

The tears came then, and there was nothing I could do to stop them.

All my life I had ached to know that somewhere out there, there was one person who would give me what I’d never had while growing up.

My mother had loved me, to some extent, but not so much that she lifted a finger to spare me from my father’s brutality.

Never in a million years would I have thought I would experience that from the man who had resented me since the day we met. The man I had run away from and taken his baby with me.

“Please cut my wife free. You don’t need her as a bargaining chip anymore.” Blaine’s voice was as calm as ever, only hinting at slight disdain. When I managed to blink the tears away and look into his eyes again, the swirl of emotions was gone, hidden behind the mask once more.

“Do as he says,” my father grunted without looking up from the briefcase. “He’s unarmed anyway—they’re not going anywhere before we’re done.”

The knife finally moved from my throat, and cut through the zip-ties holding my hands together behind my back.

I bit down on a cry when blood came rushing to my fingers, aggravating the place on both my wrists where the tie had dug in deep.

Michael repeated the process with first one, and then the other of my ankles and then proceeded to get me out of the chair with a hard shove against my spine.

I stumbled forward, unable to keep my balance while my feet were still numb from the lack of circulation, but before I smacked face-first into the concrete, strong arms closed around me, breaking my fall.

Blaine lifted me up on my reluctant feet, supporting my body against his own. The heat from him enveloped me like a cocoon, but it was the unwavering strength of his arms as he held me that made a wave of overpowering relief wash over me, premature as it may be.

We might still be unarmed and at the mercy of my family, but I wasn’t alone anymore—Blaine was here. Somehow, someway, he would see us safely out of this.

“You okay?” he asked, his voice gruff, but the tone was completely contradicted by how gently he placed a hand on my rounded belly. “Both of you?”

“I think so,” I croaked. “Blaine, I—”

Blaine lifted the hand from my stomach to brush his finger against my lips, silencing me. “Shh, love. We’ll talk when we’re home.”

Right, okay. Talking through all our intimate baggage would have to wait until we were not surrounded by enemies. I guess I could wait—not in the least because the longer we waited, the longer it would be until I would have to drag myself out of the fairytale where the man who loved me had come to save me and everything would turn out alright. The harsh reality where I had run away from him because I had seen him torture another man could wait.

---