Page 81 of Don't Break My Heart
Then nothing.
Chapter 34
Thesaltyspraystingsmy chapped lips as I taste the familiar, sharp tang of the sea. I try to open my eyes, but pain overwhelms me and my head spins. I try to move my hand to cup my aching face, but panic takes over when I realize my hands are bound together behind my back and I remember why. Valentine and his fucking thug.
Ice-cold water rushes over my body, drenching me from head to toe. I cough and splutter, trying to catch my breath as my heart kicks into overdrive. Where the fuck am I?
“Wakey, wakey, darling, time to do what you came here for,” Valentine’s voice echoes in my ears.
I squint, trying to make out my surroundings. Only one eye will open, the other is swollen shut from where Valentine thumped me. But I make out his silhouette standing in front of me, all casual, with his hands in the pockets of his dark suit pants. Bitter hatred slinks under my skin at the sight of him.
“So nice of you to finally join us.” He chuckles cruelly like this is all some fun game for him, and I’m sure it is.
I glare back at him, wanting to fly across the room and attack, but my limbs feel so weak I know even if I wasn’t tied to a fucking chair, I wouldn’t have the energy to. I look around the room, trying to remember where I have seen this exact space before. Behind him is a glass sliding door with soft sheer curtains blowing gently in the breeze.Valentine leans into a sleek, oversized white-oak desk that sits in the center of the room. Behind him is an ivory linen-upholstered armchair that I definitely recognize. It’s then I realize I’m seated on one of the two rattan armchairs of Orlando’s den on his private island. How the hell did he get us into this place and why? I try to glare at him, but I’m so fucking tired I can’t, and my eyes close again.
A hard slap stings the sore side of my face. “You fucking piece of shit,” I grumble, trying with all my might to keep my eye open. This asshole doesn’t know it yet but he’s going to die in the worst way possible, and I’m personally going to make sure of it.
“I need you awake so we can take a nice little video for my brothers.”
What the fuck?
He comes around behind me and starts to untie my hands. “Got a little job for you.”
It’s then I see the fucker who tied me up standing just to my side, a hand on his gun. “Don’t try anything,” he mutters dryly. Like I even could right now.
With my good eye, I glare daggers in his direction. Yeah, that fucker is going to die as well.
Valentine unties me and moves my hands to sit on my lap, and I gasp in pain as he shifts my left hand. I don’t know what is wrong with it, but any movement hurts like hell. He reties the bindings. I wince in pain with every flick of the rope over my swollen skin. My left hand, the one he struck with the baseball bat, is limp, swollen, and purple, and I’m sure broken by how much it kills.
He takes a slight step back from me when he’s satisfied he’s done and I’m securely bound again. “Your husband thought he could fuck me over. He forgot the first rule of our family. Family comes first. Who do you think made him forget?” His finger brushes over my chin softly, and he shakes his head. “I don’t know what kind of voodoo you didon him and Romeo, but you fucking changed them, made them soft. Made them dispensable. No family of mine bows down to a fucking girl. And after you both give me what I want, I will make sure you both learn your lesson.” He produces some papers and lays them on the coffee table in front of me, still watching me with hawk eyes like I might just launch at him any second. “You can blame him for putting you in this situation. He should have filed for divorce when he told you that’s what he was doing.”
Confusion swirls through my foggy brain, and I wonder if I just heard him correctly. “What are you droning on about? We are divorced. I signed the papers.”
“You signed some papers, ones he had faked up to make you think you had no say anymore, I guess so you would happily come home and he could keep you safe from me. Someone snitched and told dear hubby that baby bro was a little homicidal.” He grins at me, fucking grins. He looks just like his papa, and maybe that’s what he’s going for. This whole scenario is like something out of one of his playbooks.
I raise a brow, regretting it immediately when my face reminds me of how sore it is. “A little,” I snip, not able to help it even in my current condition. I’m not sure what the fuck Valentine is trying to do by telling me Orlando did what he could to protect me from him. It’s not going to make me fall apart. I’m past that shit.
He laughs. “You’re catching on. You see, I think in his twisted head my brother thought I would take his word for it and that way he could still hold on to you forever. Win-win for him.” He takes a seat on the coffee table, looking over the forms, then his eyes rise back to mine and he looks even more deranged than he did before, if that is even possible. But what this fucker doesn’t realize is I have been dealing with men like him my whole life. He doesn’t scare me with his creepy facial expressions and threats. “I’m fucking smarter than Orlando, andwhen he wasn’t giving me what I wanted and stalling while he used me to improve his position with my men, I had my legal team do a little investigating. Looks like you’re still married.” He shoves the papers toward me. “We can fix that. He was right, if you sign this paperwork and divorce him, you get nothing of my family fortunes and businesses. You leave it all to Orlando. And then when he dies, say in a tragic boating accident with his twin on his way off this island, it will all come to me.”
The last part of his fucked-up story makes my chest ache. I won’t fucking let him kill them and take over anything. “Looks like you have it all worked out. Good for you,” I snip.
His lips quirk up at the sides as he hands me a pen. “You will sign the papers for fucking real this time, and then we send him a video of you doing it and our location. It won’t be long until my brother is running to save his bride. He will be so desperate to protect you that by the time he gets here, he will be willing to do fucking anything I tell him. Just to keep you alive.”
Awkwardly I hold the pen with my good hand as the paper sits in my lap.
“Sign on the dotted line and smile for the camera, darling,” he says as he presses play on his phone and records a panorama of Orlando’s den with me in it.
I sign the paper and shove it in his direction.
Then he types out something on his phone. “I wonder how long it will take your rescue party to arrive.” He grins at me.
Probably not enough time for me to devise an escape plan, I think to myself. But fuck, I have to, because this asshole’s happily ever after doesn’t line up with mine, and I was so fucking close to having everything I wanted.
“Orlando did well with this place. Set it up so no one can get in without me knowing about it. Very smart. Gives me all the fucking power. I’ll let you know when they arrive. I’m sure you will hear the commotion.” He chuckles darkly then closes the door to the den, his thug in tow.
Frantically I search the den for a weapon or anything I can get my hands on to help get me out of this place before the boys arrive. I have to warn them what their fucked-up brother has in store for them. It’s then I remember Orlando’s weapons room. I glance over my shoulder to the control panel on the door, wondering what the pin code would be.
First things first, I have to get out of these bindings. I look down at my hands still clutched together in my lap. I can hardly look at the left one; it’s so damn busted it makes me feel sick to the stomach. With my good hand, I get to work on the knot. At first it won’t budge, but I don’t give up. This is my only hope of escaping him. If the boys pull into that dock, they’re screwed, because he will hold all the power no matter if they are armed. He has me, and I know they will do anything to get up here.
