Page 226 of The Re-Proposal

The smell hits me first. It’s acidic and dense.

The interior looks as welcoming as the outside did. Dirty glass windows. Filthy floors. A dump of trash in one corner. Two pizza boxes are stacked on a foldable table. A bed is made up in the corner with a small radio hanging on the frame. It looks like Winifred’s been here for a while.

I stop short when I see a chair with a rusty lock attached to the leg. The other end of the chain is anchored to a steel pillar.

My kidnappers prepared a nice little piece of the room for me. How sweet.

Snarly Mouth shoves me unceremoniously into the chair. Since my legs are bound, I almost slip and slam my face against the edge.

“Careful, Slotter,” Winifred snaps. “Bolton won’t let us be if there are any bruises.”

Slotter?What kind of name is that?

I glare at Snarly Mouth. Just because I can’t speak doesn’t mean I can’t curse him out with my gaze.

Slotter chuckles and kneels in front of me. He cuts the tape and attaches the chain around my ankle. When he’s done, he looks up at me. His dirty hand curls down my cheek. Disgust raises the hair on the back of my neck and I inch backward, trying to get away.

“Clarissa Maura.” His tongue curls over my name. “What’s so special about you?” I didn’t think it was possible, but his eyes are even beadier than Winifred’s. “I’m so curious.”

I jerk my chin away.

He laughs. “Spunky. Maybe that’s what he liked? A fight?”

“Come on, man.” Winifred’s voice wavers. “Let’s call Bolton and tell him we have his girl. The sooner he transfers the money, the sooner I can skip the country.”

Slotter turns his head and gives Winifred a frigid look. “Idiot. It’s better for them todiscovershe’s gone first. Let them panic. Really stew in it. People are willing to do anything when they’re afraid.”

“Fine.” Winifred spits the words through gritted teeth. “Let’s plan what we’re going to say.”

“No, I want to play with our toy first.” Slotter unleashes a villainous smirk.

“What does that mean?” The sheen on Winifred’s forehead makes him look like he got caught in the rain.

My breath hitches. I scoot as far back as I can. The legs teeter over and Slotter grabs the back of the chair, slamming the legs on the ground.

The pounding fear in my veins makes me feel like a balloon about to pop.

“Let me see what we’re working with.” He reaches a grimy hand toward me.

I mumble behind the duct tape, craning my neck away from him.

It’s no use.

“Ah!” I cry out when Slotter roughly tears the duct tape off my lips.

“Don’t hurt her,” Winifred reminds him. “That’s our only insurance.”

“Shut up.” Slotter grins at me, showing off yellow teeth. He must be on some type of drug. People don’t look that insidiously unhinged naturally. “Nice lips.” His gaze slides down my body. “A little on the thinner side. I like ‘em much thicker. But her tits are nice. And she’s black, so her behind has got to be—”

“Not every black woman has a big butt, you bastard.”

It’s a weird hill to die on, I know. But this guy gives me the creeps. If he touches me again, I’m biting his finger off. I’ll risk catching a disease if it means inflicting justa bitof pain on him.

Slotter’s grin gets bigger and meaner. He rocks back on his haunches. “You don’t seem like a billionaire’s type.”

I forget that I’m scared. Right now, all I feel is angry.

“Don’t get me wrong. It’s not because you’re black.”

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