Page 89 of Heart of a Rebel

He leans the weight of his hip against the counter across from me. “I suppose we haven’t been properly introduced. I’m Cyrus, the man who made you.”

Made me?

This arrogant monster has the right to think that just because he clearly works for my label, he’s responsible for my success. His ego knows no bounds, which is concerning. In my experience, men like him, who think they are owed something, don’t have a problem taking what they want, whether it belongs to them or not.

“What do you want?”

“I thought that part was clear.” Cyrus grins, a wicked gleam makes his eyes shine. “You.”

He points the knife in my direction, and I try not to let the punctuation of his movement reveal what it does to me inside. A man like him no doubt gets off on fear, and the last thing I want to do is provoke him.

His phone makes a sound and he pulls it out to read whatever is on the screen.

“Good, we’ll be leaving soon.”

“Leaving?” The word came out more frantic than I intended.

He looks up at me with narrowed eyes. Just when I think it’s not possible for their darkness to deepen, it does. Emotionless. And worse than that, empty.

“We have unfinished business.” He steps toward me, and I can’t help but flinch, which he only seems to appreciate as he smiles. “I didn’t intend on it being so soon, but you had to test my patience.”

I’m not sure what he’s talking about. Besides him being a rapist, a stalker, and now a kidnapper, we have no business I’m aware of. But he seems to think so.

The necklace, the flowers. To him, this is personal.

“Smart girl.” He smirks, but it doesn’t feel like a compliment. “Putting the pieces together like the puzzles your brother is always playing with.”

“How do you know that?” I’m not asking the right questions, but I can’t help it. Everything about this monster throws me off balance.

“I own you. I know everything.”

There’s no doubt in my mind he believes his statement.

“Now get comfortable, my driver will be back any minute.” He points at me.

“And if I don’t?”

It might be stupid to challenge a man who is clearly unhinged, but I can’t sit here and wait for him to take me somewhere desolate to do whatever he’s planning. This monster wearing the skin of a record executive will take me down with him if need be. My only chance to fight is here where there’s still a possibility of getting out.

“You’ll do as you’re told.” There’s not a hint of worry in his tone. He sees me as the same woman he drugged and drained of her ability to fight.

I roll my shoulders back. “Why are you doing this?”

“I already told you—”

“We don’t have unfinished business.”

His eyes flare when I cut him off, and for the first time, I think I might have pushed a button.

In one swift movement, he lunges forward and has the knife pressed at my throat. “Hands under your thighs. Don’t get any ideas.”

I do as directed, racking my brain for any option that will get me out of this alive. He must sense my thoughts because he tightens the grip of the blade on my throat, and I feel my skin barely fighting against it.

“We do have unfinished business.” His tone is even and cold. “Ever since we locked eyes in that club, and I saw your feelings for me. Don’t try to deny it after our night together.”

“You raped me.” I know it’s the wrong thing to say as soon as the words leave my mouth, but I refuse to let him think anything of that night other than what it was.

He can take a lot of things from me, but I refuse to hand him my power. Whatever his sick mind has turned what he did into, it wasn’t mutual. It wasn’t consensual. And his feelings are not reciprocated.

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