Page 5 of Gambit
His laugh is humourless, a sound that raises the hairs on the back of my neck. “All in good time,” he says, and now he turns, his eyes cold and calculating as they fix on me. “For now, let’s just say you’re a guest.”
“Never knew you were such a gracious host, Professor.” I let my gaze drift over him, unimpressed. “Though I suppose it’s an improvement from your lectures.”
He steps closer, and I can see the anger etched deep in the lines of his face. It’s clear he’s not just angry; he’s seething with something darker, something that has its roots way deeper than my abduction. Whatever game he’s playing, I’m just a pawn, but I’ll be damned if I make it easy for him.
“What do you want from me?” I scan the room, desperate for a way out. My eyes catch on Flick, my trusty knife, lying on a table too far away from me, even if my hands weren’t strapped behind my back so tightly, I’m bleeding.
“You’re here because you’re the perfect lure.”
I squint up at him, keeping my face blank even though my mind is racing. “A lure? For what?”
“Ah, you see, your beloved Carver twins have made quite an enemy of me.” His grin widens, and I can practically see the cogsturning in his twisted mind. “And now, they’ll come running straight into my trap, all for you.”
This man thinks he can use me as bait? Oh, he’s got another thing coming.
“Do you know who I am?” I spit out, not caring how arrogant that sounds.
“Just a stupid little girl who got tangled up with the wrong boys,” he murmurs.
Stupid? Stupid?Who the fuck does he think he is? He’s going to pay for that remark with his balls shoved down his throat.
“What did they do to you?” I spit out. My chest tightens with every thudding beat of my heart, anger and curiosity warring for dominance.
Franks’ eyes narrow, the lines around them deepening with old hurts. “They charmed their way into her life, into her bed,” he begins, his voice a low growl, seething with bitterness. “And then they tried to dismantle everything I’ve built. My reputation, my career—nearly destroyed by those two assholes.”
His words hang heavy in the air, and though my body is still, my mind races. Raphael and Tarquin, known for their allure and deadly charisma, have clearly left a mark on this man’s life. But that’s their past—a past that now tangles with my present in the wrong way.
Narrowing my eyes, I think about the picture Lucas gave me, and then I roll my eyes. I’m guessing that’s Franks’ wife with them, twisted up in a twin sandwich I’m all too familiar with.
Fucking dicks.
“Want a newsflash, Prof?” I start, my voice steady as I twist my wrists painfully to try to loosen the ties. “I’m not surprised your wife went looking for better. You’re just a sad little man in a dusty room, playing with people’s lives because you can’t handle your own.”
Franks’ face contorts with rage, the muscles in his jaw clenching so tight I almost hear them creak. His hands ball into fists at his sides, and I brace for impact.
“Shut your mouth,” he hisses, the words barely escaping through his gritted teeth.
“Hit a nerve, did I?” I taunt, pushing him further. It’s risky, but seeing him unravel gives me a twisted sort of satisfaction.
With a roar, Franks lunges at me, all pretence of control gone. He backhands me across my cheek, white-hot pain exploding across my face at the force. I gasp, tasting blood on my tongue. Before I can shake off the daze, my head snaps back against the wall, stars dancing in my vision as another blow lands—this time his fist on my nose. I can feel the warm trickle of blood, and I fight against the restraints, my body screaming for freedom.
“Is that all you’ve got?” I spit blood, egging him on because every hit only fuels my anger. He won’t get away with this. No one uses Eliza Hughes as bait and lives to tell the tale.
Franks’ hands move like vipers, quick and venomous, shredding the fabric of my dress. It rips down the front, leaving my bare tits exposed. My skin crawls under his gaze. I’ve been trained to remain composed under pressure, but this—this is a different kind of battlefield. It’s not one I’ve faced before, but accept, pivot, adapt.
“Look at you,” Franks sneers, stepping back to take in the sight. His eyes, dark with fury, trace over my body, but he doesn’t see a victim. He sees the bait that’s not biting.
I force myself to swallow the bile rising in my throat. “You think stripping me changes anything?” My voice is steady, stronger than I feel. “It just makes you more predictable.”
His laughter grates on my nerves, but it’s all a game, and I’m calculating my moves ahead. The space between us buzzes withhis deranged sense of power, but I can’t afford to let fear take hold—not now, not when every second counts.
My mind races, survival instincts in overdrive. There’s got to be a way out, a weakness to exploit, a moment of distraction to seize.
Think, bitch, think!
“Enjoying the view, professor?” I keep the banter alive, my furious eyes locked on his. It’s a gambit, keeping his attention on my face and not the room—the room where I need to find my escape.
“Shut up,” he growls, stepping closer again, his breath foul as he hovers over me. But proximity is a double-edged sword, and I can use it too.
