Page 91 of Man of the Year

Suck it! He’s better at flying past my radar with his botched management company and probably a fake name.

I force another laugh into his face, though my eyes burn from water, and so do my sinuses. He’ll pay for this, I promise.

The gardener makes a move toward me with the soaking wet fabrics, but Julien stops him.

“In different circumstances,” he says, his tone not even slightly changed, “I could work on you slowly and with less physical damage. But I’m afraid we are running out of time. And you deserve the worst, Nick.” He nods to the gardener. “Ready?”

The gardener grabs a black bundle on the side of the bathroom counter and unrolls it.

My sight is blurry from the water, and my head is dizzy, but I catch a glimpse of what’s inside that cloth—a row of stainless-steel objects, including knives, scalpels, and pliers. The ceiling light playfully reflects off their dangerously sharp steel edges.

I can deal with water, sleep deprivation, and punches. But not knives, pliers, and god knows what these two psychos are capable of.

My bladder goes weak, and I clench my jaw, hoping that I survive this, though I know already that these will be the worst minutes of my life.

But the gardener takes out matches.

“What’s that?” I choke out.

“This,” the gardener says, “is a match.”No shit. He holds one in the air. “It will be inserted into your most private and sensitive organ.”

His eyes drop to my crotch, and sudden panic slams into me.

“Then, I will light the match,” he continues with sadistic satisfaction, making my breath catch in my throat at the terrifying visual. “And watch it burn as you scream in agony.”

An angry smirk curls his lips as my entire body goes weak with terror. Before I can stop it, my bladder gives way.

SEVENTY

NICK

“You can’t do that,” a soft voice says.

Both Julien’s and the gardener’s heads snap in the direction of the door.

“Natalie,” Julien breathes, and for the first time, his steel expression falls.

The sinister match in the gardener’s fingers stills. That match will be my undoing, I swear.

“I told you to wait it out in the library,” Julien says, walking out of the bathroom.

First, how did Natalie get out of the closet?

Most importantly, why isn’t Julien surprised to see her? Which means she somehow got away, or he freed her.

I freaking knew the guy had a thing for her. He’s been breathing down her neck since I got her a job.

She just saw what happened, whatiscurrently happening—my pants getting soaked by my own urine. I want to howl in anger and embarrassment. I will blow up this place and every single one of these pricks.

But right now, I lie very still, hoping that the match threat never comes to fruition.

“You can’t do that,” Natalie says behind the door.

“You weren’t supposed to be here,” Julien argues, “for the very reason that you don’t understand what it takes to extract information from a person.”

“Well, not what you were about to do.”

“He is not a good guy, Natalie.”

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