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No one knows where I am...or who—
“What is your name?” I suddenly ask.
“Maddox.” For the first time since he walked in, the dangerous and handsome man twitches his lips into almost a smile. “Your fiancé’s son.”
What?
CHAPTER FIVE
MADDOX
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I know you’re a good girl, Kyra.
I’m not...good.
The flush on her cheeks when she replied made my cock jolt upright. Which is sick as fuck, given I’d just kidnapped the girl.
I don’t know why. I don’t like submissive women. But there’s something about this slight young woman that has my skin buzzing. If I’d thought Kyra Fox was beautiful in her photos, it was nothing to seeing her in the flesh.
She’s got no makeup on, her hair is tangled—I was going to blow dry it for her while she was unconscious, but that just made me feel way tooJeffrey Dahmer,thank you very much—and she’s only wearing a robe. And still, she’s the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen in my entire life.
Beautiful and suppressing her sexuality, if I’m not wrong. Or perhaps not aware of it yet.
She’s young...but not that young.
I appreciate she’s fearful of her life right now, but telling me she’s a bad girl had me itching to cross the room, part her legs, and make her tell me the truth about just how good she really is.
I wasn’t expecting to react like this to her. I remind myself that Kyra is here for one reason only: to assist me in destroying my father.
Not for my pleasure.
But from the moment she was delivered to me, I felt a pull in my chest I didn’t understand. To be fair, I’ve never had a person kidnapped before. I opened the door to my penthouse apartment, and she was in his arms with her robe slid up her thighs, exposing the curve of her ass.
Fury slammed against my rib cage, and I took her from him, carrying her to the sofa where I placed her down carefully, arranging her robe so she was respectfully covered.
“Boss wants the funds transferred,” the man said gruffly.
If this wasn’t so fucked up, I would’ve had personal security with me, but obviously I don’t want anyone knowing about this.
For my safety and so I don’t drag anyone else into this.
Running a fight club as a teenager with the boys is one thing—cough, and a few years beyond—but we’re not members of a fucking criminal organization.
It’s true, we don’t play by society rules all the time and we’ll need to break a few to take revenge on our fathers—proof in point—but otherwise killing and kidnapping have been outside our playbook.
Until now.
I’m not worried. I would kill to save my own life and there was a gun in the back of my waistband. The guy only wanted the money for the job he’d done, and I had it.
There was no risk.
“Forget my face,” I said as he stepped back in the elevator.
“Never saw you,” he muttered as the doors closed.
The amount I paid, I’m sure he won’t remember.