Page 5

"Oh, I know you are," he murmurs. He isn’t snapping or snarling at me like he was before. He seems almost... calm. Almost amused. Like the thought of me trying to take control of this situation is downright funny to him.

"But I don’t think you know who you’re talking to," he goes on, his voice low, menacing. "Let me guess—your daddy kept you out of his ‘work’ all this time, and now, you don’t have a clue what you’re up against. Am I getting close?”

I don’t reply. I can feel a terror stirring in my belly, sickness twisting in my guts as I try to wrap my head around this.

"But the truth is, you don’t need to know who I am," he continues. "You only need to know that if you do everything I say, you might get out of this alive. And if you don’t..."

He lets those words hang in the air between us, an unspoken threat. His eyes don’t move from mine for an instant, letting it all sink in.

"What do you want from me?" I whisper, trying to muster up whatever courage I have left.

"I want you to know that if you try anything, I won’t hesitate to do what needs to be done," he replies. "There’s nobody around for miles. You try to get out of here, and you’re going to get lost in the woods. It’s cruel out there. You won’t last long."

He speaks with a matter-of-fact tone in his voice, as though he’s just telling me what I need to know. I clench my hands into fists at my sides; I almost wish I was dealing with Taylor the wedding planner again. Almost.

"So, you can either die out there, or you can stay here," he continues. "Your choice. But I’ve seen what happens to people who get lost in these woods, and..."

He lets out a low whistle through his teeth.

"Wouldn’t wish that on my worst enemy."

He spits the final words out, and I wonder if, somehow, I fall under that banner myself. His worst enemy? How could I have made someone hate me this much, when I have never met them before in my life? I need answers. I need him to explain himself to me. I need?—

"There’s clothes for you to change into in the bedroom," he tells me, waving his hand towards the door. "Get changed. I’ll get you something to eat."

"I don’t want anything to eat."

He rests his hand on his gun once more—not a threat, exactly, just a reminder of what he’s capable of.

"I suggest that you start doing what you’re told, Cara," he murmurs.

The sound of my name on his lips sends a shiver rushing through my body.

How does he know who I am? I suppose that he could have come across any number of the wedding announcements that my father put in the papers, but something tells me this runs deeper than that.

Whatever sleight has led him to this moment, it’s far deeper than just a marriage.

"Who are you?" I demand before I can stop myself.

"You know my name, so it’s only fair that I know yours," I continue, and he eyes me for a long moment, probably wondering if it’s worth giving me even a small piece of who he is.

But it’s not like I can use it against him, not out here, in the middle of nowhere.

I just want to know something about the man who has stolen me away, no matter how tiny it might seem to him.

"Call me Max," he replies. "Now, change. Get that ridiculous dress off."

"I can’t just unzip it," I point out. "I had to have a couple of dressers help me into it this morning. I can’t reach all the buttons by myself."

He lets out a grunt of annoyance, and then spins me around, grabbing me by the shoulders and facing me away from him. His touch is firm, and I find my breath knocked from my lungs for a moment as his fingers move over the buttons of my dress.

He is deft and quick, doesn’t say a word, and I get the feeling that this isn’t the first time that he has undressed a woman like this.

Perhaps even from a wedding dress. I didn’t notice a ring on his finger, but, with everything he has done today, it’s hard to believe he would respect the sanctity of someone else’s marriage.

His fingers graze along the small of my back as he undoes the final button.

It's just the barest touch, but it sends an explosion of tingles running up my spine. I suppose I’m just oversensitized from everything that’s happened.

Still, when he steps back from me I feel his distance, like my body isn’t ready to be alone again so soon.

"There, done," he mutters, and he plants his hand against my back and pushes me towards the bedroom. "Now, go. I don’t want to see you again until you’re changed."

I hurry into the room and pull the door shut behind me.

The bedroom is small, just like the rest of this place, barely enough room for the double bed and dresser that is pressed against the wall.

A window filters through a little light, but, when I give it a half-hearted tug, it doesn’t budge.

And, even if it did open, he’s right—I know I wouldn’t last a night out there.

I don’t have the skills to get by without a chef and a maid, let alone survive in the wilderness on my own.

I pull open the dresser and find some sweatpants and a few oversized tees shoved in there—a far cry from my collection of designer dresses, but it’s better than this wedding gown, that’s for sure.

I shrug it off my shoulders, and pull off the lingerie beneath, the white lace panties and bra that Mario made a point of picking out for me.

I shudder when I remember the leer on his face as he gifted them to me—silently telling me that he could hardly wait to see me in them, or out of them.

I know that chaos will be exploding back at the hotel by now.

My father will have sent everyone he can on to the streets to find me, scouring every inch of the city and beyond.

I don’t know if any of the CCTV cameras we passed by would have picked up on me in the back of the car, but I know my dad has contacts all over the city, and it’s only a matter of time before one of them gets back to him with something he can use.

Only a matter of time before he traces me here.

And only a matter of time before I am walked back up to that altar to marry Mario, whether I like it or not.

Slipping on the sweatpants and a tee, I climb on to the bed and wrap my arms around my knees.

Between a rock and a hard place—either a marriage to a man I can barely stand to look at, or captured by one who seems to despise everything about me.

Hardly the wedding day I was dreaming of...