Page 48 of Something Borrowed

The pain of my hangover is now being overruled by the panic building in my chest. Rufino looks furious. The disappointment in his eyes is terrifying.

“I’m sorry you feel that way, vixen.”

He takes the coffee from my hand and sets it down on the bedside table, then lifts me out of the bed. I’m too stunned to stop him.

Grabbing some rope he wraps it around my wrists, slaps tape over my mouth and carries me out to his car.

I keep thinking - this is a joke - this is a joke. Any second now he’s going to put me down.

But he doesn’t.

He puts me into the trunk of his car.

I scream against the tape but only a muffled sound comes out.

I kick against the closed trunk and back of the seats, but nothing happens. Rufino doesn’t open the trunk laughing and teasing me.

The engine starts.

The car moves.

And my panic sets in for real.

Last night we were playing games - he kidnapped me, and we did some wild stupid and fun things - but this -thisis too much.

This is too real.

Now that the fun glowing haze of alcohol has worn off all I’m left with is the truth.

Last night was only a game tome.

He planned every piece of that evening down to the last moment. He knew he was going to marry me before he even got to Las Vegas. Heknewhe was going to kidnap me and make me his wife.

But why?

I don’t get it.

Why did he go to such extremes?

We drive for about twenty minutes and I end up just closing my eyes and focusing on my breathing, forcing myself to be as calm as possible and to ignore the throbbing ache of my hangover headache which is now back with a vengeance.

Gravel crunches beneath the tires as we slow down and then come to a complete stop. A car door opens, then closes, and his footsteps crunch against gravel as well. My heart is racing in anger when he opens the trunk.

I curse him from beneath the tape over my mouth. Shooting insults with my eyes, letting him see how furious I am.

Rufino lifts me out of the trunk and sets me down on the gravel. It bites into my bare feet.

“I’m going to take the tape off now. It might hurt a little.”

I narrow my eyes, breathing heavily.

He pulls the tape off in one quick movement and I scream at full volume. Not from the pain of the tape peeling off my skin but from pure anger and adrenalin.

“What the fuck is going on?” I shout, stomping my foot, then regretting it as more stones bite against my skin.

“Verity, take a deep breath and calm down.”

“I won’t calm down. Don’t tell me to calm down. You put me in the trunk of your car. I don’t have tocalm down.”

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