Page 4 of Beautiful Torment (Empire of Kings #1)

ABELLA

G athering up my purse, briefcase, and phone, I step into the reception area in my suite to find it empty.

A quick glance around confirms Tony is MIA, and I wouldn’t be surprised if he’s rubbing one out in the bathroom.

It wouldn’t be the first time I’ve heard him watching cam girls when he thinks nobody will notice.

Exhaustion weighs heavy on me as I turn my phone on to text him.

But when I do, I have no signal. I give it a minute to see if anything changes, but it doesn’t, so I restart it.

While I’m waiting for that, I head toward the public restroom on my floor and pause next to the men’s side, calling out for Tony.

He doesn’t respond, and I don’t hear anyone inside, which means Tony broke the rules again and left me alone while he takes a smoke break.

Annoyed, I head for the elevator. If IVI headquarters knew Tony kept leaving me alone, they’d have his job.

But given that my father was the one who approved this detail after my last guard retired, I don’t bother to complain.

He only hired him after a lengthy rant about me getting married so my husband can take on this responsibility.

Because in the Cosa Nostra , it’s not acceptable to let your daughters roam unprotected.

And while I’m sure some fathers hire protection out of love, mine is more concerned about his asset.

After a long descent, the elevator doors open to a gleaming lobby that’s notably empty.

Eugene, the night security for the building, is also absent from his desk.

It’s not unusual for him to take a smoke break with Tony, so I don’t give it much thought.

But as I approach the glass door and peer outside, I don’t see either of them.

A resigned feeling settles over me as I check my phone. It’s powered up again, and I have service now. But just as I’m about to dial Tony, the power in the building cuts off and everything around me goes dark.

A primal awareness sinks into my gut as goosebumps ripple over my exposed arms. My phone chimes, making me jump, and I nearly drop it as I glance at the message. It’s from a different number, but there’s no question who it is.

Want to guess where I am, Abella?

The air leaves my lungs in a rush as I spin around in a circle, fear grabbing me by the throat. He’s toying with me, and I have no doubt he’s watching me from somewhere in the building. But where the hell are Tony and Eugene?

Suddenly, this game between us doesn’t feel so harmless.

My first instinct is to run to the front doors, but when I try to push them open, I’m met with the terrifying realization that they’re locked. A cold sweat settles over my skin as I try to remember how to breathe.

He has me trapped, and the elevator is no longer an option with the power off. That leaves me two choices. Wait for him to come to the lobby, where there’s nowhere to hide, or chance the stairwell, knowing he could very well be in there already. As I’m considering it, another message comes through.

Tick tock, cara. Time’s almost up.

I choke down my panic and make a split-second decision. Stairwell, it is.

When I fling open the door and step inside, darkness entombs me. With trembling fingers, I use my phone as a flashlight to guide me up the stairs.

My heels slap against the concrete, echoing like gunshots off the walls. I keep climbing, not even certain what level I’m on, when my phone flashes a low battery warning.

“Not now,” I groan in frustration.

I pause to weigh my options. I could stop on my floor and use my badge to open one of the conference rooms, or I can conserve my battery power and huff it all the way up to the rooftop garden.

Considering my stalker has been watching me at work, there’s every chance he might already be waiting on my floor. Either way, as long as I’m in the stairwell, I don’t have cell service, and I’m on my own.

Making another quick decision, I kick off my heels and abandon them as I continue to climb. My muscles burn with every step, but I can’t stop. Adrenaline gives me the push that I need to transcend the pain.

After successfully navigating so many landings without obstacle, some of my immediate fear ebbs away, and I fall into a good rhythm.

Minutes pass. Ten, then twenty. I only allow myself to glance at the time on my phone every ten floors.

And then, eventually, I run out of floors and come to a stop at the exit to the rooftop garden.

All the access points in this building are designed with battery backups or fail-safe locks in the event of a power outage.

This one in particular has a battery backup, which gives me a small amount of hope that it will buy me some time.

My stalker has already proven he can access the cameras and control the power to the building, so a lock won’t stop him.

All I can hope is that it will slow him down long enough for me to call for help.

Swiping my badge, I shove my weight against the door as soon as the light blinks green, and I spill out onto the sky terrace.

Sucking in a breath of fresh air like it’s my lifeline, I open the contacts on my phone and try to dial IVI security headquarters, only to have it disconnect before it even rings.

“What the hell?” I growl.

Did you think I would make it easy on you?

My head snaps up after I read his message, and I glance around, scanning every shadowy space on the terrace. I don’t see him, and I’m starting to wonder if this is just one of his twisted games.

Maybe he isn’t even really here.

I suck in a breath and tap out a response.

What do you want?

“I would think that was obvious by now.” The heat of his breath on the back of my neck sends an explosive surge of terror through me.

Instinct has me turning back for the door, but as I try to open it, an arm reaches over my head and slams it shut again.

So, I run.

It isn’t rational. There’s nowhere to go.

But my brain is in survival mode as I weave around the greenery and furniture, frantically seeking some source of safety.

Heavy footsteps echo behind me. He’s not running.

He doesn’t have to. His strides are calm and deadly—as if my capture isn’t even a question.

I can’t bring myself to look back. It’s easier to pretend I still have a chance this way. Skirting the perimeter, I complete a lap and narrow the distance between myself and the door. When I’m in arm’s reach—so close I can almost taste it—he grabs me by the ponytail and yanks me backward.

A startled gasp escapes my lips as I bounce off a hard chest, only to be imprisoned by a steel arm banding around my waist. That’s when my fight response kicks in.

I stomp on his boot and try to thrust my head back against him, but he anticipates the move and grabs me by the throat. Gloved fingers dig into my flesh as the heat of his body presses against me.

“Oh, cara ,” he murmurs in my ear, his voice low, dark, and so familiar my knees almost buckle. “If you wanted me to hunt you down, all you had to do was ask.”

An unwelcome spark pulses in my chest as a name whispers through my thoughts.

Logically, I know it can’t be him. He’s locked in a prison cell and has been for the past six years.

My mind is playing tricks, trying to lull me into a sense of safety in a dangerous situation.

Though truthfully, Angelo is probably the furthest thing from safe as it gets for me.

“You might as well just kill me here,” I tell the man. “I have nothing to say, and my father won’t pay a ransom.”

A hollow sound of irritation pulls from his chest. “It isn’t your father’s money I want.”

He loosens his grip on my throat, and I seize the opportunity, dipping my head to bite into his sleeved forearm. It has to hurt like hell, but his only response is to groan … as if he’s getting off on this.

“Is this what you call foreplay?” He yanks his mangled arm from my teeth and squeezes my jaw between his fingers. “Does the thought of leaving your mark on me make you wet?”

A rush of heat blazes over my skin as his filthy words drip-feed the hunger locked deep inside me.

I want to deny it, but every nerve in my body is raw and overstimulated.

His warm breath tickling my skin, the solid, muscular body pressed against me, the cocktail of fear and adrenaline—it’s all too much.

And when I clamp my thighs together, I come to a horrifying realization.

I am wet.

Maybe it’s survival, but I don’t think it is. For months, this current of tension has arced between us, shattering my defenses. With every rough command and inappropriate remark, he’s nourished the most neglected parts of me.

As I close my eyes, my mind runs wild with the possibilities of how this might play out.

Visions of him pushing me to my knees, unzipping his pants, and using my mouth.

Bending me over a chair, pressing me against the building, fucking me all over this garden until he’s purged this obsessive need inside him…

Dio mio.

There’s something seriously wrong with me.

I shake myself out of it and start to pivot, but he jerks me back. My spine collides with his chest and the rigid heat of his cock.

Jesus, he’s huge.

“Thinking about all the ways you want to be wrecked, principessa ?” His words brush against my ear and cascade down my body, settling between my thighs.

“By you?” I counter. “Only in my nightmares.”

He fists my hair and tips my head back, a primal growl vibrating against me as he breathes me in. Then he lets out a low exhale of frustration and releases me like I’ve managed to piss him off just by existing.

For a second, I think maybe he’ll leave. But that thought dies when he slips a black bag over my head, obscuring my vision.

All I can manage is a resigned sigh. After the day I’ve had, I’m not even surprised that I can add getting abducted to the list of things that went wrong.