Page 35 of Cruel Pawn (Cruel Duet #1)

Priya

“ T his isn’t a surprise,” I said through gritted teeth, ignoring the ache in my pussy, wrists, knees, and chest as I stared at the man tied to a wheely computer chair.

This was not what I’d expected, or particularly what I wanted, after being well fucked.

Especially when my ankles hurt after running over uneven ground, and I was covered in grazes from being crushed to the forest floor under Arden.

The forest that was surrounded by water, because this was a private fucking island ironically called Honeymoon Isle.

Or maybe unironically on purpose, because along with the fifty-something, balding man tied to the chair, there was a wedding dress.

It hung on the door of a wardrobe in a shitty bedroom significantly less nice than the cottage.

There was also a bag of makeup supplies, hair curlers, and a solid deadbolt on the door behind me.

“This is a whole new level of insanity,” I told my captor, who’d stripped out of his tight T-shirt and sweatpants, utterly heedless of the tied-up audience, not that the man could complain—he had a strip of tape across his mouth. “Who even is this?”

If Arden wanted the man dead, he’d be dead, which meant he was keeping him alive for some reason. For me?

He did mention a surprise…

But the fact my psychotic kidnapper was changing into an Armani suit, and a fucking wedding dress hung opposite me made me think otherwise.

“He’s not a priest, right?” I asked apprehensively, glancing at the deadbolt on the door. I could yank it open no problem if not for the key Arden had slipped into his pocket. This psycho and his damn keys.

“Nope, not a priest,” Arden replied, opening a cardboard box that sat on a dresser I was surprised hadn’t fallen apart at some point in its obviously long life. This whole place was a dump, a single room with a bed, a dresser, a sink, a bucket, and the chair the mystery guy was tied to.

I considered the man, not particularly moved by his widening eyes, the muffled pleas he tried to get through the tape.

“Not sure why you think I’ll free you,” I told him. “I’ve killed more people than him; I’m the bigger threat here.”

Fear bled into his eyes, his breathing racing. Probably at the flat, unenthused tone of my voice. Sweat dripped down his forehead. I smiled, pleased with the effect. “Not a priest,” I mused, glaring at Arden. “So, an officiant.”

“You’re so clever,” Arden said with a beaming grin, slipping a red rose into his buttonhole.

“I’m not marrying you.”

He just smirked, utterly heedless of the fact I broke his nose, and picked up a velvet box that apparently contained black diamond cufflinks.

I glared, but the glitter of the cufflinks caught my eye, and I took a step closer despite myself.

I wasn’t chained anymore, but the metal remained around my wrists and ankle, reminding me I was a prisoner.

Not that Arden even needed the chain with the remote fucking island.

Honeymoon Isle. The name was a taunt and a threat.

“Are those…” I stared at the diamond links as he fastened his shirt. They were in the shape of a black bird, and my heart raced a little even as I told myself to calm the fuck down.

“Rooks,” he confirmed, “like your alias.”

“I’m so seriously going to kill you,” I murmured, turning away so he couldn’t see the sheen to my eyes.

He was a psycho, and he held me captive, and…

and what? Made me feel loved and cherished and gave me so much pleasure that my bones fucking melted?

If I ignored the chains, and the captivity, this week was the best I’d had in years.

The constant anxiety had stopped choking me, my heart felt less bruised than before, and loathe as I was to admit it, I liked being the centre of his attention.

The bastard was right; I didn’t want to leave. But that didn’t mean I wanted to marry the madman.

“I’m still not marrying you. How long have you been planning this?”

“Since you cut my throat,” he replied, sliding up behind me so quietly I didn’t notice until his arms wrapped around me, lips pressing to my throat.

A hot shiver rippled through me. “You’re it for me.

The one. My happily ever after. My soul mate.

And even if you don’t want to admit it, I’m that for you, too.

I made a promise when I called you my future wife, and I intend to keep it. Let me help you into your dress.”

“I’m not wearing it.”

Even if it was gorgeous and exactly my style. The white slip was covered in lace that, up close, was made of birds and knives. Custom lace. A custom dress, intended for me. Not Carmen, not any of the fake identities. Me.

“I’ll do your hair,” Arden offered, as if that would change anything. “I’ve been practising beachy waves.”

“You’ve—” I turned to give him a strange look, those words completely incongruous with my kidnapper. “What?”

“I look very fetching with them. I’ll show you some time.” He kissed my forehead and stepped back. My eyes betrayed me by following the sharp line of his jaw down to his tattooed neck and the perfect fit of his suit jacket. “Like what you see, my opera?”

“Don’t make me cut the other side of your throat,” I muttered, leaning against the locked door with my arms over my chest.

Arden smiled. Goosebumps broke out on the back of my neck. I didn’t like that smile one bit. I was clever and knowing and devious. It was the smile of a man who knew he would get what he wanted.

“Was there a reason you took so many jobs, my opera? Saving for something, perhaps?”

My eyes sharpened on him, and I strangled my breath before it caught and gave me away. “What do you know?”

“Everything.” He unhooked the wedding dress and held it out to me. “And when I say everything, I don’t just know what you were searching for and why.”

I accepted the dress numbly, a tingle in my face. “How?”

“I told you, Priya, I know everything about you.” His stare gentled, the backs of his fingers brushing my jaw. “I know you lost your parents when you were ten because someone had them taken out.”

I couldn’t breathe. “Do you know who?”

He slid closer, moving as sleekly as a predator. “A better man might give you the information you’ve spent most of your life searching for, for free.”

“But?” I prompted, breathless. Did he know who killed them? Did he know the name I’d been searching for this whole time?

“But I’m a villain, my opera. Marry me, and I’ll tell you who killed your parents, and we can hunt him down together and make him beg for death.”

I went cold all over, numb down to my toes. He knew. He really knew. Arden wasn’t a liar, as much as I wanted to deny this. That victorious look in his eye, that smile, that deviousness—he really knew, and was well aware he had me shackled to him with that information. No wonder he let me run.

“For always and ever, my opera,” he said as a promise, a reminder, a threat.

I stripped without feeling my fingertips, and pulled the wedding dress up my legs, reeling so hard I barely felt the smooth silk lining caress my body.

I turned without comment, and Arden actually leapt to fasten my buttons.

He laid reverent kisses to each inch of my back as he closed the buttons, his lips scorching hot.

“How?” I asked, my stomach in flux at how close I was to finally achieving my goal. Finally, justice for my parents. Finally, answers about their deaths.

Who took them out? Why? Grandfather hadn’t even been able to uncover that truth, but Terry Lyons, an up-and-coming gangster I worked a job for five years mocked me by offering to give me a name, in return for five million.

I’d been working all this time to buy that name, especially since all my attempts to kill Lyons had failed.

He was a slippery bastard and had more power now than ever thanks to deals with bent cops and corrupt politicians.

“I saw all your notes, pretty girl,” Arden replied, the term of endearment finding its mark in my soft heart.

I glared and yanked myself away. “I know Terry Lyons is holding a name over your head for a ruthless sum of money. My dad Kavan went to school with that douchebag, so it was pretty easy to lure him out of hiding. He’s tragically dead now. ”

I froze, cold crawling across the back of my neck. “Tell me he passed on the name to you before he died.”

“Yep.” Arden’s grin returned. “Sit here, my pretty opera, and I’ll curl your hair.”

I sat. And stared at the fading wallpaper as he lovingly styled my hair, an empty space filling my chest. Was I going into shock?

I’d been trained to handle shock, but I never saw this coming.

I should have seen this coming. Arden knew everything else about me; of course he knew about my parents and my hunt for their murderer.

I barely blinked as Arden braided red roses into my hair and daubed makeup on my face.

“Would this red look good on me, too?” he mused, holding up the lipstick he’d painted on my lips with shocking precision. “Priya.” He put the makeup down with a sigh, taking my hand to give it a squeeze. “Talk to me.”

“You knew all this time,” were the words that came out, forcing past everything else I wanted to snap. Instead of a snarl, they emerged flat and aching. “But you kept it from me so you could leverage me into marriage.”

“I warned you I was crazy about you,” he replied, unapologetic. His lips lingered at my forehead, burning their imprint into my temple. “All you have to say is two words, pretty girl, and everything I know will be yours.”

“Divorce exists, you know,” I sniped.

“Not for us.”

He approached the wriggling man tied to the chair and ripped the tape off his mouth. The sound was viciously satisfying. My heart quickened despite myself.

“Help me!” the officiant yelled, his voice ragged and broken. Not the first time he’d screamed for help. I hadn’t even heard him in the cottage. “Help! There’s a madman trying to kill me!”

“Rude,” I muttered, my ego a little bruised at his lack of fear of me.

Arden slapped the man hard, and I startled, mostly at the flutter that went through my stomach.

Ina-fucking-propriate. I glared at my arms, and my attention snagged on the custom lace.

Wait, was that… yep, that was the white rabbit from Alice in Wonderland.

Motherfucker. I swallowed the lump in my throat, refusing to cry.

This wasn’t a real wedding, wasn’t a real marriage.

“All you have to do is marry us, and I’ll let you go,” Arden said, sounding completely civilised.

I nearly snorted at the relief that filled the officiant’s face. “That’s all you want?”

“Yep.” Arden grinned widely, that disarming smile that lured me in when we first met. “That’s all. Don’t worry, I already brought the correct paperwork, and this is all above board.”

Divorce exists, I reminded myself as I got to my feet, dressed in my dream gown, with my face all prettified and red roses in my hair. I was trying hard not to look at the cracked mirror across the shitty little house. I didn’t want to know what I looked like.

You don’t want to leave. Say it.

I don’t want to leave.

The officiant swallowed and nodded. Great, this was really happening. If I went along with this shit show, I would willingly accept a new set of chains. I might not be chained to his bed, but I’d be his, legally.

He’ll be yours too, a small voice pointed out. I shut it out, along with the hum of possessive pleasure at the thought of Arden being mine and only mine.

I jumped when Arden linked his hands with mine, my mind so frazzled I wasn’t paying attention. “There’s no way this is legally binding,” I muttered.

“I looked at every last detail,” he informed me with glee, squeezing my fingers. “There’s no way out, Priya McFadyen.”

I opened my mouth to say that wasn’t my name when the truth hit. He knew who killed my parents. I could finally make their killer pay. Everything I’d planned, trained for, everything I was —it would be over. And I would really, genuinely, be Priya McFadyen.

No one knows how to love you at home, Priya. Only I can love you like this.

I shook my head, startling when the officiant began to speak, recanting the service from memory. This chaotic fire between Arden and I didn’t matter. Revenge mattered, and it was so close I could touch it.

So, when the bound, nervous-sweating man glanced at me expectantly, I wet my lips and said, “I do.”

Thank you so much for reading Cruel Pawn!