When I came to, I didn’t understand what was happening.

It wasn’t just that I felt disoriented. My body was fighting what was happening to it, and I woke up retching. Motion sickness. I was in a moving vehicle, and I felt woozy and panicked, my throat tasting like acid and my stomach doing somersaults from pure instinct, one word reverberating through my whole body and alerting me to the hopelessness of my situation.

Danger! Danger! Danger!

I was in the trunk of a car. It was tiny and cramped, and my body was forced into an unnatural position that made my limbs ache. I felt like a fish packed into a can, bent out of shape and struggling to breathe through the tape that had been plastered over my mouth. My breaths were quick, scared and panicked, but I forced myself to think straight. There was a small light on in the trunk, and it illuminated enough to tell me where I was. The car was moving, speeding, and the road was bumpy. I had no idea how long I’d been out, but my head hurt, pounding with an insistence that threatened to split my skull open.

The vehicle kept moving, and I tried to get myself into a comfortable position and stop the waves of nausea washing over me. My wrists and ankles had been tied with thick, scratchy rope. It bound me so tightly there was no hope of breaking free, no way of getting out of my binds. But I kept trying, clawing away at the thick knots and hoping to God I’d break free. The only thing I managed to achieve was to break nail after nail, and I let out a muffled cry of frustration.

My personality took a backseat to the situation I was in. I was no longer bratty, or selfish, or hopeful. All that mattered was survival, getting out of there alive, and running away from the man who had taken me in the dead of night.

It was hard to remember the details, and I had no idea how much time had passed since he’d snatched me out of that alley. My head felt thick like it was filled with cotton wool, and the overwhelming urge to panic was making it hard to think. But I needed to focus. I needed to figure out a way out of there.

Soon, I realized the ropes would be impossible to undo without a knife. I’d kicked the trunk, but it was locked, not just closed. Then I figured my best bet would be to fight the second the trunk opened. I would kick and scream through the tape, I would make so much noise it would be impossible to miss me. Sooner or later, maybe my kidnapper would have to stop for gas. I decided I’d start making noise the second I heard voices around me.

The thought made me laugh feverishly, no sound coming out through the tape. How was this real? Surely it was nothing but a nightmare, surely, I was going to get out okay. Surely. Surely. Surely.

The car kept moving, and my nausea got worse. I used to get travel sickness in cars all the time and this time it came back in full force, knotting my stomach and filling me with despair and fear. The drive felt endless. I tried counting the seconds, but they blended into minutes, then what felt like hours. I needed to pee so badly. My legs hurt from being tied up, and I felt the first tears falling down my cheeks. I tried to battle them desperately, knowing I couldn’t give in yet. I needed to fight.

Eventually the car came to a stop. I listened with bated breath as the driver’s door slammed shut, but there were no voices around, and I didn’t want to waste my breath unless I heard someone nearby. If we were alone, I’d benefit more from staying still and quiet, pretending I was still drugged. Then I could surprise my kidnapper when I attacked him.

It took ages for me to hear footsteps on gravel. I heard the sound of the trunk unlocking and shut my eyes as tightly as I could. And then, the trunk flew open.

The tension was incredible, my body pounding with adrenaline and the need to run away. But I could barely move. I pretended to be as lifeless as possible as a pair of rough hands grabbed me, hauling me out of the trunk and onto the ground. I hit the gravel with a thud, wincing but biting my tongue so I wouldn’t scream out loud.

“I know you’re awake,” that deep dark voice told me, and my eyes shut tighter. “You can stop pretending now.”

I lay there motionless, hearing him chuckle above me.

“That’s fine, have it your way,” he said. “Just one thing, my little one. You keep your eyes closed, this is your last chance to see me. I won’t be the one to rape you. I won’t hold you after. I’ll just watch you being brutalized.”

My eyes flew open, focusing on the blurry gravel.

“There we go,” he growled. “I knew you couldn’t resist.”

He kneeled next to me. His shoes came into view first, the leather dark and black and shiny. I was terrified of looking up, my body shaking as I stared at my own reflection in his brogue shoes.

“Eyes up,” he said in a rough voice, and I shut my eyes again, shaking my head and whimpering against the tape. “I’m not going to ask you twice. Look at me. Now.”

I shivered as I let my eyes fly open again. He was so close I could feel the hint of his cold, minty breath on my face.

I looked up, sealing my fate. It would be my undoing.

I whimpered through the tape and he smiled at me as I stared openly.

He was beautiful… painfully so.

Dark hair, dark eyes, scruff on his chin. He was handsome in a devilish way, the kind of man you’d kiss behind your mom’s back and never tell your daddy about.

He reached for my mouth and tore the strip of tape off with a single yank.

I started screaming on cue. His hand met my face with such brutal force I rolled onto my back.

“No one will hear you,” he said matter-of-factly. “No one that would want to help. But I’d like you to get over the screaming habit as soon as possible, please. I don’t like drama. I like pretty, obedient little girls.”

“I thought you liked broken things,” I rasped, my voice feeling ragged and raw.

He laughed in my face, getting up from his kneeling position. My heart was pounding at the sight of him.

“You aren’t broken yet,” he told me. “But I’ll make sure you are before long, little one.”

Finally, I risked looking around us.

We were parked in a round driveway, the car he’d driven us over in a showy BMW. Ahead of me, there was nothing for what felt like miles, the road stretching out endlessly and finally being swallowed up by the fog that lay low above the ground. But once I turned my head, I could see what lay behind us, and it took my breath away.

There was a large topiary along with a marble fountain in the middle of the driveway. It looked like something out of a film. Beyond it, there was a house that looked more like a castle. It was enormous. Like a place a girl like me could only dream of. I’d never been able to afford even a one night’s stay in a place like that.

“W-where am I?” I asked shakily. The place felt like a ghost town. There wasn’t a soul in sight, but just then, I realized there was an alien sound coming from behind the house. “And what’s that sound?”

“You don’t recognize it?” he asked me, chuckling. “It’s the beach, little one. It’s the waves crashing down on the shore.”

I realized I smelled it then, the thick scent of salt and water in the air. I’d never seen the ocean.

“We’re…” I whispered. “We’re not in London, are we?”

This elicited another laugh from him.

“No,” he said simply. “We’re far, far away.”

“How long was I out for?” I demanded.

“How long do you think?” His tone was teasing, and I hated him for it.

“I don’t know,” I grunted. “A few hours? Just tell me.”

“A day and a half,” he said with a pleasant smile. “You slept through the plane ride.”

I felt tears pricking my eyes. Angry, resentful tears for this man and what he’d ripped away from me. I had no memory, no recollection of the past day and a half. Just like my freedom, he’d taken that away too.

“I hate you,” I growled at him, the need to hurt him reverberating through my body. “I’m going to kill you.”

He looked right into my eyes and muttered, “You have the wrong guy, little one.”

He hauled me up and threw me over his shoulder as if I weighed nothing. I screamed in protest, but it didn’t help one bit. He carried me towards the house as I struggled on his shoulder, kicking him with my bound legs, my tied-up hands raining helpless blows all over his back. None of it helped. None of it even made an impact.

I realized with a start he looked different than my memory remembered. When he’d taken me in that alley, he seemed broader, huger. Now, he was still an intimidating figure, but not nearly as frightening.

He was all man, his face painfully handsome, like that of a model. His cheeks were carved out of marble, chiseled and sharp. He had a beard, thick and dark just like his unruly hair. He looked like a handsome savage, and I hated him with every part of my body.

We reached the house a few moments later, and I realized with a start we were no longer alone. So, I did the only reasonable thing to do. I screamed my head off.

I wasn’t going to go down without a fight. This man, whoever he was, was going to have to beat me into submission. I would fight back every second I spent with him. He would never break me.

But now, he merely laughed at the ruckus I was causing, setting me down on the ground. I flopped on the floor, my body unable to stand when it was so tightly tied up. My eyes danced around the room and I struggled to focus on one thing, there was so much going on.

The house was stunning. Pink marble and so much gold it made my eyes hurt. Like Mummy would say, nouveau riche. Old money didn’t need to display their riches in such a vulgar way.

It was also full of women.

Women in various stages of undress, and just a few men to balance out the ratio. I gasped at the sight before starting to scream again, but none of them rushed to help me. In fact, most of them ignored me completely, as if someone tied up and screaming on the marble floor of the mansion was such a common sight it didn’t require attention.

“You better save your voice,” the stranger told me, smirking down at me.

He pulled something out of his pocket and I blanched when the metal glinted in the light. A knife.

He bent down, kneeling next to me like he had earlier. Then, his knife cut into the thick ropes. My heartbeat picked up and I stared into his eyes as he worked to get me out of my binds.

“You’d better keep quiet, too,” he said calmly. “Some people here might make sure you do in crueler ways than my own.”

I didn’t listen. Who would have?

The second he cut me free, I made a run for it.

But before I could even make it to the front door, he caught me in his strong arms, knocking me down on the ground. He hit me so hard that time I thought I would pass out.

I looked up through heavy eyes as he approached me again. This time though, he wasn’t smiling.

“Don’t say I didn’t warn you,” he said darkly, but a second later, a smile lit up his face.

Dark and menacing, holding a promise of hurt like I’d never known. I shivered in fear.

“Welcome to your new home, little one,” he said, grinning at me.