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A guy like Ian could make me disappear and no one will ever know what happened.

You did a bad job blending in, I tell myself.

I shouldn’t have stood out so much at the party.

“I’m going to untie you,” Ian finally says. “Don’t do anything stupid, Rose. Tell me you understand.” There’s an edge to his voice I’ve never noticed before. In all of our previous interactions, he’s been gentle. Soft. Wildly polite.

Not now.

Now he’s being rough and cruel. He’s treating me like I’m nothing to him, and I know that I am, in fact, nothing. I’m a pawn of some sort. A toy. I’m a game piece he’s using to get what he really wants – whether that’s information or easy access to my dad or something else entirely.

He’s being patient with me, but I know that won’t last forever. Eventually, he’ll hurt me. Take me. Maybe he’ll even torture me. My very best bet at this moment in time is to stay calm and focused. I need to stay polite.

“Yes, I understand, Mr. Salucci.” My throat hurts as I manage to get the words out. I do understand what he wants. I just don’t know why.

If I was here with my best friend, Violet, she would laugh in his face. She’d make fun of him and mock him, and then she’d definitely try to run. Violet isn’t the type of person who gives in easily. She’s not weak like I am.

Me?

I’m just concerned with staying alive. I just want to make sure that I’m not killed by this guy. If promising not to run keeps me alive, then I’ll make that promise. I’ll keep it, too. I’m not going to try to double-cross someone like Ian Salucci. There are enough dead girls in the world. I don’t really want to be added to that number.

“Good girl,” he murmurs again. Once more, my entire body fills with heat. What is happening to me? Why am I feeling this way? It’s like the words unleash this flood of emotions I didn’t know I was allowed to feel. I’m not the type of person who gets addicted to men. I’m not the kind of girl who caters to their needs or desires. That’s never been my thing. When Ian calls me a good girl, though, it’s like my entire world twists and spins. It’s like I’m floating.

I remain perfectly still as he takes the bindings off of me. They’re some type of cuff that I haven’t seen before. Not that I have a lot of experience with BDSM. I don’t. My dad is way too obsessive for me to try sneaking any of that stuff into the house and my sexual encounters have all been strangely vanilla.

Still, I’m familiar with a lot of the lingo and some of the different activities people can do, so I know what these are. I know why he has them. Ian probably doesn’t spend a lot of time handcuffing young women, but maybe he spends a lot of time spanking them. Does he like to tie people up and hurt them? My pussy clenches at the thought. I don’t know why. I hate that my reaction to his violent tendencies is to get aroused, but that’s me.

Fucked up.

Broken.

Damaged.

There’s something strangely irreparable about me these days. I don’t really know what I’m supposed to do with myself except just keep on trying. The only thing I can really do with my life is keep on trying to stay alive, keep on trying to avoid trouble.

As soon as I’m completely untied and uncuffed, I reach for my wrists and start rubbing. I want to do the same thing to my ankles, but I don’t want to move too much. I’m still worried that he’s going to push me down or hurt me somehow. One of the biggest mental blocks I’m having in this moment is not knowing what to expect.

Is he going to punish me for something my father has done wrong?

Is he going to hurt me?

Maybe Ian is going to slowly torture me until I beg him to kill me. I don’t know. I really have no idea what to expect, and unfortunately, my father never prepared me for such a situation. He’s got guards who watch over me, but the event we were all gathered at was very busy. I realize, suddenly, that I don’t know how long I was unconscious for.

“Mr. Salucci?” I ask timidly. “Can I ask you a question?”

Politeness.

Etiquette.

Good behavior.

These things are rewarded in my world. These are the elements every woman needs to carry if she wants to stay alive and in one piece. Despite being fully aware of how women in my family are supposed to behave, Ian looks a little surprised at my inquiry. He pauses and stares at me for a moment. Then he gives me the slightest nod. It’s almost imperceptible, but I see it, so I ask my question.

“How long have I been here? When was the party?” I want to know if I’ve been locked up for days or weeks or simply hours. I don’t think it could have been more than ten or twelve hours, but to my surprise, his lips quirk.

“Not long, cupcake.”

“Can you tell me when the party was?”