Page 7 of The Heart of a Villain

He clicks his tongue, walks to the nearby table, and picks up another glass of water, extending his hand to me.

I watch the thing warily, my head still aching from whatever drug he injected into me after he got fed up of fighting back my punches, and his brows rise. “Well? Drink.”

Coughing again, I shake my head, swallowing hard and hoping the saliva will wet my throat.

My refusal only earns me a chuckle followed by a sarcastic jab. “You’ve been out for more than twelve hours.”

What? Twelve hours?

No, no, no.

“Impossible,” I whisper, pressing my hand to my forehead and stilling when I see the long black sleeve. I gasp in horror, the realization hitting me hard.

I’m wearing a black shirt barely covering me to midthigh, and I do my best to control the hysterics rising up inside me at the possibility of this man seeing me naked and having his sadistic way with me. He was so cruel to me before shoving me inside the car and warning me to stay put that I thought he’d rip my hair out. “Oh my God,” I whisper in horror, clenching the shirt to my chest while tears form in my eyes, but I refuse to let them out. “You’re a bastard!” I throw at him, and he raises his brow again.

He sighs dramatically before grinning wildly, and just the sight of it adds to the swirling panic within me. “If I wanted to ravish you, I’d have already done it, love. So drink up because we need to talk.” He glances at the clock. “And considering you’ve taken your sweet time already, I’ll have to be quick.” He winks at me. “Hopefully, all the rumors about your brilliant mind are true.”

He says it so nonchalantly, as if he didn’t just kidnap me!

My brow furrows in confusion at this, though, and only then do I decide to study the environment around me. With the aura he displayed earlier when he kidnapped me… this house is vastly different.

I expected to see some dark dungeon straight from my nightmares about such men. Instead, though, the modern design that graces thousands of luxurious magazines greets me.

I’m in a spacious living room consisting of white and silver colors, with a huge couch and two chairs next to it. A small round table stands in front with several books on it. Greek myths—so the siblings must share a love for those.

A bar is located on the right corner with so many half-opened bottles, and judging by the amount of liquid in them, it’s a wonder this man can stand up straight. The brands are expensive, and most of it is whiskey, while next to it all, he has a collection of cigars.

Various paintings hang on the walls depicting gory and bloody images from Greek mythology, almost warning you about the psyche of the person who owns this house, speaking about his deep vices he probably hides from the outside world.

Especially the one with Hades dragging Persephone to his underworld while her mother begs on her knees far away to let her go.

While I’ve seen many variations in art of this myth, this one somehow makes me uncomfortable, and I look away, feeling the hopelessness and pain of her mother and how, once you make a deal with a devil, there is no going back.

My focus shifts to the white, glassed bookshelf, where he has blades of different shapes and sizes, and by the exquisite work, I assume they must be very expensive. In fact, he must’ve bought them on the black antique market because you usually only find such stuff in museums.

A hallway leads to a staircase and two more rooms, the smells of coffee and toast wafting in the air, so one of them must be the kitchen.

The silver marble glistens under the sun streaming from the huge window and brightening up this rather gloomy and cold place, showing it in full glory, and while it reeks of luxury… it has no soul.

The stranger snaps his fingers, and I blink, looking at him again. He sighs once more. “Darling, you need to focus on the conversation. You can study the interior later.” He picks up the remote from the table and clicks it, the TV on the opposite wall turning on, and my eyes widen at the image greeting me there. “Allow me to introduce to you the Wright family.”

I sit up straight on the couch, adjusting the shirt once again, all while gluing my stare to the screen and studying the family picture.

A young, blond-haired and blue-eyed woman leans on a tall, dark-haired man behind her, who cradles her barely visible pregnant belly. Two identical boys press their bodies to her, happiness and joy pouring from them in spades, while George and William stand on either side of them.

I’ve seen a lot of family portraits over the years, and I can without a shadow of a doubt say that it’s a loving one.

Or at least used to be.

My heart pangs painfully in my chest at the thought of all three kids losing their parents so young, but the man doesn’t let me dwell on it for long. “Our parents met in college one summer night, and it was love at first sight. They got married three days later and in nine months had us.” He comes closer to me, making me jump in place, and then extends his hand to me, introducing himself. “Rafael Wright.”

My brows furrow as something nags at the back of my mind, information that might give me a better understanding of the man who stands before me. I think I’ve heard the name over the years, but for the life of me, I cannot remember where.

Instead of shaking his hand, I slap it away, scooting even farther from him, and he just smirks, finding it all amusing.

“I don’t care who you are. You kidnapped and drugged me while almost ripping my hair out,” I snap at him, and to my astonishment, he winces as if he doesn’t like for his fuck-ups to be pointed out.

“You should thank me, darling. If I hadn’t done that, you’d be dead.”

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