Page 37

I had too much to figure out, but with the return to the house, I decided to pace myself. I was kidnapping her, whisking her away from her workplace when she was unconscious, but I treated her gently. Holding her to me as though she were a delicate treasure, I hoisted her into my arms and carried her into the house. No one stopped me on the way to my floor. None of the guards seemed to bat an eyelid or react to the odd sight of me bringing a woman home.
They knew better than to speak up.
The moment the elevator lifted to my floor and the doors opened to my apartment near the top of the building, I took her into my room. She still hadn’t woken, but I wasn’t overly worried. After staring at her on the ride here, I wondered if she was merely tired, overworked, and maybe sleep deprived. The faint odor ofbile could be detected on her, and I figured that maybe she was sick. That combination would explain her passing out so quickly.
Without any protest, I laid her on the bed and dragged the blankets up over her. She’d wake sooner or later, and I wanted to be there the moment she did. Dragging a chair over toward the massive bed, where she looked so small and lonely resting by herself, I planned to watch over her until she came to.
Preoccupying myself with the possibilities of how I could keep her here as my mistress to produce an heir, I studied her and wished she’d wake up to answer all the questions that piled up in my head. Sitting as patiently as I could, I propped my elbows on the armrests of the chair and steepled my fingers, resting my chin atop them.
The moment she stirred, my heart beat faster. Anticipation of her seeing me spiked my pulse in a good way, and I looked forward to how she’d react.
“What the…” She blinked, lifting her head off the pillow. Confused and alarmed, she jack-knifed on the bed and scanned the dimly lit room. Her breath hitched the second she saw me. And before trying to shout for help, she scooted back on the bed, knocking a pillow aside. “What the fuck is going on?”
Once more, she searched the room, frantic and scared. To my delight, she wasn’t terrified, showing that same hopeless frown that she wore when that man beat her backstage. Now, she looked defensive, calculating. While I didn’t want trouble from her, seeing her react with a survivalist instinct pleased me. She wasn’t a docile dumbass. She had some grit to be so quick to assess the situation like that.
“Why’d you bring me here?” she demanded, her voice strong and stern. “What do you want with me?” Again, she scooted back on the bed, as if she were already plotting an escape route away from me.
“I only wanted to make sure you’re all right,” I replied. That wasn’tallI wanted from her, but I had to pace myself. Seeing her in my bed was fucking with me. Desire pummeled me, and I tried to ignore how hard my dick was at seeing her in my place.
“You kidnapped me.” She narrowed her eyes, proving she wasn’t a meek or submissive idiot for me. I hated the memories of her so scared of that man I’d killed for her and the three punks at that party. But she didn’t cower from me.
“You kidnapped me from the club,” she said when I didn’t reply, merely staring at her and trying to figure out how to handle this now that I’d brought her here. Sitting up straighter on the bed, she got testier yet, scowling at me. “Let me go.”
“Go?” I asked, smiling slightly.There’s not a fucking chance in hell that I’ll let you go now.
“You listen to me, asshole, and let me go,” she demanded, pointing at me as she lifted her chin. Between her tone and the attitude, I realized she had some street smarts. She was tough. Maybe she’d had a harder life than I guessed. Beneath it all, it was clear she wasn’t from my world. Unrefined and cockier, sassy and bold, she wasnotthe sort of elite Mafia daughter my grandmother probably wanted me to choose.
She won’t be happy about my breeding someone like her, anyway.
Grandmother would insist on finding a proper woman, someone of a prestigious background to solidify a stronger generationto follow mine. She’d never approve of a fighter like Sloane, someone tough and sassy off the streets.
“I want to leave,” she insisted, seeming more irate when I didn’t give her a response. “You can’t just kidnap me like this and?—”
When she tried to flip the covers off and free her legs, I got to my feet and loomed over her. Setting a hand on either side of her hips, I blocked her in. The blanket stretched back over her thighs, tucking her in place.
She didn’t lean back as I arched over her. Giving me her hardest glare, those green eyes sparkling with anger, she didn’t back down. Tormenting myself with the slight buffer of space between us, I reined in my need to taste her, to devour her, and watched her lips as she frowned.
Oh, I’m going to have fun with you.
“You’re not going anywhere, Sloane.”
17
SLOANE
He knows my name.
It seemed like such a stupid thing to notice among the more important details that had to matter more.
Like the fact that he’d kidnapped me from Stanley’s.
Like how he’d killed Lenny by twisting his neck.
Shuddering again at the flashback of that gruesome memory, I resisted the urge to look away from him. He was too close, overriding all my senses. I smelled the faint hint of his cologne. I swore I could taste the alcohol that clung to his breath. Captivated and intimidated by his rugged looks up close as he loomed over me, I was stuck in place.
Stuck. Like always.
But I’d never faced this predicament before.