Page 89 of The Deal

She rises to her feet and begins to advance toward me. “I understand this is a shock for you, Chloe, but please hear me out,” she pleads.

“I’m not interested in anything you have to say.” Onceagain, I’m forced to turn and head back the way I came, only to find Alexander standing at the other end of the hallway.

“Mother trucker,” I mutter under my breath.

I’m trapped—no way forward, no way back. My eyes flicker to the side. Alexander must read my mind because the moment I think it, he starts storming in my direction. Fortunately, I’m fast enough to slip into the bathroom and slam the door shut, locking it just before he reaches me.

“Chloe,” he calls out, his fists pounding against the wood.

If he thinks I’m going to hang around in here long enough to hear him out … or kick the door down, like he did last time, he’s mistaken.

I start by turning on all the taps, hoping he’ll think I’m just trying to drown out his voice when, in reality, I’m using the noise to cover my escape. Once I’m sure it’s loud enough to mask my movements, I climb on top of the toilet, slide open the window, and shimmy my arse out of there as quietly as possible.

Once I hit the ground, I do the only thing I can: I run.

In my hurry to escape Alexander and my … mother, which feels strange to say after all this time, I didn’t stop to consider that I was in the middle of nowhere in the dead of night, surrounded by acres of bushland, and barefoot.

Every stick, stone, and God knows what else digs into the soles of my feet with each step. It’s pitch-black, and the only thing stopping me from running straight into a tree and knocking myself out is one of Alexander’s guards, who is hot on my heels and shining a torch at my retreating back. The light barely cuts through the darkness, but it’s enough togive me a split-second warning to dodge any significant obstacles up ahead.

The dick only realised I was fleeing when I rounded the corner of the house and crashed straight into him, sending him sprawling onto his arse. It gave me just enough time to pivot and take off in the other direction—but barely. I can feel him closing in, step by step, but there’s no way I’m stopping now.

I’m so focused on what lies ahead that I don’t even see the small branch lying across my path until my foot snags on it, and I’m suddenly flying forward, my arms flailing out in front of me, but it’s no use. I hit the ground hard, letting out a muffled cry followed by a grunt as the impact knocks all the air from my lungs.

“Got ya,” he says breathlessly as he reaches down to grab me.

I’m not going without a fight. I roll onto my back and kick my legs out in front of me like some crazed animal, aiming to connect anywhere I can—his chest, stomach, or crotch area—anything that might knock him off-balance long enough for me to scramble free.

Within seconds, two more guards arrive, and I’m surrounded. The hopelessness of my situation hits me all at once, and I’m so disillusioned I could scream … or cry. I don’t want to go back to the house. I want to be anywhere but … here.

The two new arrivals reach down, grabbing one arm each while the OG grasps my ankles. I know the jig is up, and I’m going to be returned to my hellish prison, but that doesn’t stop me from twisting and kicking, desperate to break free.

“Calm the fuck down,” one of them says.

“Don’t let the boss man hear you talking to her like that,” another replies.

“If you don’t put me down, I’m going to tell Alexander you all manhandled me,” I threaten.

“They better not have manhandled you,” comes that gravelly voice I’ve come to love—but now really want to loathe—from somewhere nearby. It wraps around me like a curse, familiar and maddening all at once.

“Fuck my life,” I mumble under my breath.

“Unhand her this instant,” he barks as he stalks toward us. “If one hair on her body is out of place,” he growls, his eyes narrowing like a predator zeroing in on its prey, “heads will roll.” His steps are measured, each one echoing with the weight of the threat.

His men freeze as I blow the chunk of hair that’s fallen across my forehead out of my eyes, a slight, deliberate movement that seems to cut through the thick tension in the air. It’s a gesture of defiance, of reclaiming control when I have none.

One of the guys still holding my arm tenses, unsure whether to tighten his grip or release me entirely, while the others shift nervously, eyes darting between their leader and me.

The dick holding my feet carefully places them on the ground, holding his hands up in front of him in surrender.

Alexander growls as he passes him, and once he has me lifted safely into his arms, the other two let go.

“Are you hurt,bella?” he asks, looking down at me with concern.

My eyes narrow. “Go fuck yourself with a cactus, Mancini,” I grumble.

The only guard still in my line of sight clears his throat and turns his head away, but I don’t miss the beginning of a smile tugging on his lips as he does.

“Leave us,” Alexander barks, his voice commanding and filled with such raw authority that his men scurry away likefrightened mice, their boots echoing against the hard, unforgiving ground as they retreat.

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