Page 19 of A Princess, Stolen
By the time we stopped, I was a bundle of nerves, suppressed whimpers, and uncontrollable trembling. I feared I would soon be facing Isaac and his words swirled through my mind.
You’d better do what I ask of you, Willa Nevaeh Rae. And that’s going to be a lot soon.
“Here, Captain, here she is!” the man with the accent said, whose rudeness alone frightened me.
“Unmistakably, yes,” a dark male voice replied. It was not Isaac.
My senses were so acute that I felt him approaching. Perhaps this man was much worse than Isaac.
Don’t collapse, Willa! Please don’t!
Wood creaked under heavy footfalls like those of rough boots that seemed to circle me. The man was surely inspecting me from all sides as if I were a jewel that his men had given him as a gift. “My most precious treasure” was what Dad often called me jokingly. I was getting colder and sweating from every pore.
“You’re Willa Nevaeh Rae Hampton?” He was in front of me.
“Yes,” I whispered, intimidated. Someone in the background laughed maliciously. Another coughed his lungs out.
“You’re nineteen years old, to the day, and your father is Nicholas Garrett Hampton.” I nodded. He obviously hadn’t expected an answer since he continued speaking. He must have been alongside me now. “Your father owns the Hampton Oil Company in Canada near McMurray and the North Atlantic tanker fleet as well as several villas; one in Monaco, one in Tokyo, one in Pattaya, one in Bar Harbor, and one in Baton Rouge.” Baton Rouge was said with a hint of mockery, no idea why.
I drew wild spirals on my dress like a madwoman, a picture of fear and confusion. He knew so much and I knew nothing. He seemed to have gone around me a second time because I could feel him in front of me. Too close. Much too close. I could smell him, a horrible mixture of salt water, oil, and wet rope.
Oh God!
“Your father not only owns the oil sands industry and the tanker fleet, but he also has several private armies stationed abroad, shares in Silka Chemical Industries, Berkshire Hathaway, and so many luxury cars that it would bore me to list them all, correct?”
“Correct,” I replied softly even though I had no idea about my dad’s shares.
“Estimated net worth: fifty billion dollars.”
More or less. I thought of Dad’s laughter and tears welled up in my eyes. Someone whistled loudly through their teeth and voices rose up. Deep male voices, uncouth and coarse. “Dirty bastard.” “We’ll show him!” “Son of a bitch!”
I flinched at every word as if I’d been struck. I’d never met men like them. They didn’t exist in my life because they had no access to the upper class. Not even the lower; they were socially nothing. Criminal scum.
With my heart fluttering, I wrapped my arms around myself and felt the most important question trembling within me. It had shriveled with fear, seemingly only an echo in the fog of my perception.
Will I survive? And if so, how?
I didn’t dare ask because I was terrified of the answer. I swallowed. “My dad…my father…he will do anything to protect my life.” I was blind and helpless, so my father’s money was the only bargaining chip I had. “He’ll pay any amount.”
The man in front of me took a step toward me. He had to be tall, at least as tall as Dad, six feet four inches at least. Again, Ismelled salt and oil and felt his gaze. It bored into me and a rush of his emotions washed over me as if he were pouring them out over me. Contempt. Hatred. Then a spark of blind rage crackled dangerously against my skin. I felt him move, perhaps raise his arm, so out of reflex, I parried and slapped it away, perhaps more by accident.
Amused, the men laughed. I heard “Wowowo!” and “She showed you!” and before I knew what was happening, my jaw was grabbed. Firmly.
Now I didn’t dare move. I received his anger with a pinch of appreciation, but it flew away the longer he held me or maybe I was merely imagining his feelings.
“So, any amount,” he finally drawled, turning my head left and right as if I were a broodmare whose value he had to assess. “Are you certain you’re not mistaken about your dear daddy?” He must have leaned far down to me because his breath brushed my face like a wave of seawater.
I felt sick. “He’ll pay, most certain…”
“Okay. If you say so!” He let go of me abruptly causing me to stagger, but I managed to steady myself. Still, I was disoriented and flinched when his voice came from an unexpected direction. “How much do you think your life is worth to him? A million? A billion? Twenty billion?” The floor creaked under his boots as if he was rocking back and forth.
“I don’t know.” I was so cold, so dizzy.
“Then think about it. What would you give to save the life of someone you love?”
My mouth went dry and my eyes watered under the cloth. I blinked again and again. “Everything I own.”
The creaking stopped. He obviously had paused. “And if that wasn’t enough?” he asked rather darkly.
