Chapter Eight

Sydney

Crackling pops wake me, as does the warmth cocooning my body in the soft blankets. I get my bearings, leaving my eyes shut and ignoring the whisper of voices and the shutting of a door.

“Welcome back to the living.” A low voice seduces me from sleep. I think I know how Sleeping Beauty felt when the prince came.

I turn my head to the left, smelling something meaty and delicious that makes my stomach grumble and my mouth water. Instead of food, my gaze feasts on a man in a dark, muted silver dress shirt and tailored vest. In fact, everything about him is dark. Up close I see Declan’s eyes and hair are inky black against his olive complexion. So much for the fairy tale; instead I ended up with the Prince of Darkness himself. Not only is my mouth wet, but a wave of heat flushes me, making me shift sore limbs under the heavy blankets.

I stare at him, taking deep breaths to recollect myself and how I ended up here. It takes a bit to orient myself, dizzily looking over the edges of the bed. I realize quickly that I’m lying on a soft mattress several feet off the floor, and he’s lying next to me, propped up on his elbows and pinning me under the comforter. It’s a king-sized bed that occupies a bedroom larger than my entire apartment. The furnishings are dark wood with gold gilding and probably cost more than I make in a year.

“Seems like you got yourself into a spot of trouble.” Declan rolls off the bed all smiles, his teeth straight and bright white up close. I guess in our previous encounters I focused on other parts of him, too busy to notice how disarming his smile could be. He reaches for a glass of amber liquid, taking a sip.

“I did?” Playing stupid doesn’t get me any time, because he doesn’t buy it for a second. I take a peek under the covers and see I’m wearing a man’s white V-neck T-shirt and boxer briefs.

“Those are mine, don’t worry. It was easy to slip you into something, seeing as how you arrived naked as a jaybird.”

“Oh my god.” Better than naked but not by much.

“God had nothing to do with it, dear girl. I dressed you, and let me say you have quite the offering.” He finishes his drink, letting the glass clink on the table. His brows wiggle over his fathomless dark eyes. “I think I’d like to renegotiate.”

Of course he would.

Declan is a devil.

“I don’t recall that being on the table.” I remind him how well that worked out, but he smiles with a grin that reaches from ear to ear like he’s holding onto some secret. “Last time you kicked me out of your club and then out of church.”

“Yes, a bit hasty, I’m afraid. You see, I wasn’t fully aware of everything you were offering, and let’s be honest: what happened in church was your fault.”

“My fault…” I lean up, prepared to jump out of the bed and leave wherever the heck it is that I am. If I get a good punch into his smug face first, I won’t say no to that, either.

“Mmm,” he intones, amused, with his arms crossed and leaning casually against the wall.

“And now what?” I slap a hand on the mattress.

“Well, now I’m interested.” He cocks his head in my direction. “Also—you’re in my bed.” He points at me.

I roll my eyes. I can’t deny I’m attracted to him, but I’m not sure I can stomach more of these mercurial mood swings of his.

“Well, I’m not offering.” I had stopped viewing it an offer when he threw it back in my face.

“Tsk, tsk,” he chides, shaking his head. “Lying doesn’t become you, pretty girl.”

No, it doesn’t. It also doesn’t explain how I ended up here in Declan’s house. My mouth opens to ask, but he answers for me.

“Seems a mutual friend left you on my doorstep giftwrapped. All you were missing was a pretty little bow.” He paces the room, waiting for an answer. “Care to explain how that happened?”

It comes back to me vividly.

 

Pounding on my door wakes me from a groggy sleep. On autopilot, I stick my arms in a short silky robe and answer the door. At some point I changed my clothes, but don’t remember when.

I crack the door open, leaning on it, keeping my half-clothed body from view. “Hi, what are you doing here? Is Selma okay?” I let him inside, relieved it’s not my dad, Puthe, or Declan.

Jason pushes me inside. “You need to stop asking about my boss, Sydney.”

“Y-your boss?” Jason’s no longer friendly or flirting. I’m filled with dread.

“Yeah, because now he’s asking about you. Says he wants to meet you, get a good look at the girl that’s got Natas acting like a fool. Let’s go.”

“I-I don’t think—”I try to shake and will myself away. It doesn’t work.

“That’s the problem. You didn’t think.” He jerks my arm, pulling me behind him and out of the building. My fingers grab his arm and my legs hop to keep up with his stride.

I back against the door in horror.

“Jason, what’s going on?”

Nobody comes outside to check on me, and nobody stops him when he pushes me inside his car. So much for the neighborhood watch.

“Time to pay up, Sydney.” He grabs me, propelling me forward by my loose hair. His fingers snarl in the strands and he smashes his open mouth against mine, shoving his cigarette-and-coffee-tasting tongue inside. I gag and bite back, earning a slap that makes my ears ring.

“No!”

Fooled by Jason’s once kind green eyes, I now see them as twisty and manipulating. He drives fast, cutting turns as I’m slammed against the doorframe. I may not have to worry about meeting his boss if I’m dead before then.

Jason turns up the music, a punk rock band that screams more than it sings, and he slaps his hand on the steering wheel.

“You should have gone out with me. Made it easier.” His lips curl and my stomach heaves. His persistence at the coffee shop makes sense.

“Jason, why are you doing this?”

Eyes rake down my body and I curl inward, clutching the silk between my sweaty palms. Oh, how I wish I could disappear into the steel frame of the car. He’s mad because I rejected him. I guess this is karma playing a cruel joke on me.

“My boss wants to talk to you. If you do what he says, maybe I can help you out of this mess.”

I snort. Great—another man who thinks he can help me. Jason raises his hand, aiming for me. I flinch, waiting for the hit that doesn’t come.

“Lucky for you, we’re here.”

He stops the car in front of a brick townhouse and throws his keys to a thick guy in a suit waiting out front.

I turn, viewing the house with tall windows, black shutters, and iron scrollwork that looks imposing in the moonlight. The door swings open and he grabs me, pulling me out of the car. My legs scrape against pavement. Unable to give up, I kick and scream, clawing his arm as he drags me inside.

“No sense of self-preservation with this one?” the suit chuckles, ignoring my pleas.

“Nope. Good thing the boss likes a fight.” Jason hauls me up. This will be the second time I’ve been tossed over a shoulder, except this time leaves me fearful for my life. All Declan ever did was spank me and leave me limp with orgasms that ruined me. I’ve somehow justified his actions and forgiven him already. That was immensely preferable to what is happening now.

From upside down, I glance around the neighborhood worth millions of dollars, but nobody opens their door and nobody peeks through windows curtains with curiosity. It’s as if they all know it’s worse to get involved than it is to ignore it.

“Let’s go, bitch.” He carries me up the steps and into a the house.

My resistance means little when I see the thugs with concealed weapons under their jackets. He brings me to a study, dropping me to the floor. The fall jars me. I try to get up but he kicks at me, landing a good shot on my ankle and making me cry, and another on my ass, pushing me over to my shoulder and bruising that too.

“That’s enough, Jason. I’d like to meet with our guest privately.”

I glance up at a man who is handsome until he speaks. Cruelty lines his face. Jason—my kidnapper—leaves me alone.

“Who are you?” I ask.

“I’m your worst nightmare if you don’t do exactly as I tell you to.”

He doesn’t bother answering my question.

“I’m Sydney,” I tell him, hoping it will humanize me in some way.

“I know who you are, Miss Meadows, and I don’t really give a shit, except I’m the one your father owes money.”

I swallow back my tears and forget begging or offering my body. I tried that once and was summarily rejected.

“I’m trying to get the money. I’m looking for another job. Please. I just need time. I need a little more time.”

He nods and rubs a finger along the smooth wood of his desk. I square my shoulders, hoping he won’t find a use for that desk like Declan would.

“I understand you went to visit my old friend Declan at his club.”

This is Andre LeHavre. Punishing. Unforgiving. Declan’s oldest friend and longest rival.

“Yes, sir.” My head hangs down and my eyes trace the pattern of red-and-navy spirals in the carpet underneath me.

“And did Declan Natas offer to help you?”

I swallow my words. “No. No he didn’t.”

LeHavre walks around me and taps his chin. He looks me up and down, eyes narrow. “Declan stole something from me.”

An interesting fact, but I don’t know what he expects me to do about it.

“What did he steal?”

Again, he ignores my question.

“I want you to get it back.” He leans down, offering me a hand to get up.

I stare at his hand for a minute or so, wondering if I take it if that dooms me to something worse. He rescinds the hand and resumes pacing with his hands crossed behind his back and staring out the window.

“Can’t you just ask him?”

He laughs. “No. But you’re going to get it for me.”

“Why?”

“Because if you don’t, I’ll kill your father faster than the drink can. I’m not the only one he owes money to, princess.”

I gulp down dry air into the back of my throat. This is a less interesting fact and more of a surprise. Nothing should have shocked me by now, but—well, it did.

“M-more money?” I stagger to stand up, clutching my robe around my shaking body.

“A shitload more.” LeHavre turns, looking out the window and then back at me with pity. “Probably why Declan saw you as a lost cause. Even if you put out better than a Friday night whore, there’s no way he’d recoup that money if he paid it all off.”

“How much money is it?” I’m so ashamed I don’t even stop to think this through. I don’t ask why he wants whatever it is back, and I don’t care. Declan Natas can’t be any better than this man. I’m greedy. I’m selfish. I value my life over some stupid feud between two grown-ass men.

“The exact amount is four hundred sixty-seven thousand dollars at ten percent interest.”

My mouth drops opens. Almost half a million dollars. What the hell was my father doing gambling and losing that kind of money? Where did he get that kind of money? My head is spinning and I feel sick to my stomach, choking back bile.

The reality sets in.

“I could never repay that.”

“I know, Sydney. Not even on your back could you hope to make that in a reasonable amount of time.”

I glance up at LeHavre through messy hair and tears.

“What did Declan…?”I hesitate to say steal, and LeHavre finishes for me.

“It’s the deed to a property.”

“How the hell do I get that?”

LeHavre slaps me hard and I cup my face to ease the burning sting. It couldn’t have been easy, could it? I just couldn’t keep my mouth shut, could I?

“Don’t be mouthy,” he growls.

Great. LeHavre is another one of those alpha assholes I’m caught in between.

“The property deed is for a location on the waterfront. It’s between my property and Declan’s for pier eight off Shipway Plaza.”

“By the naval yard?” It’s technically near a museum and park.

LeHavre’s eyes narrow.

I have no idea what a property like that means to either him or Declan, right under the navy’s noses, but his eyes are filled with a greedy want.

I lick my dry lips and ask, “Where do I find it?”

“That’s not my problem. You’ll probably have to get close to him—very close—in order to get access to his study. My men haven’t found it anywhere else, and I’ve had them looking for a while.”

“Why is this deed important?”

“You ask a lot of questions, don’t you?”

It sounds like an insult, but it’s probably the one good thing I got from my father.

“Don’t worry about why it’s important.”

“And if I don’t find it?”

“Then dear old Dad dies. But as an incentive, if you get it I’ll wipe his debts clean, including the interest payment.”

“So all I have to do is steal the deed to this property, get it to you, and my dad is free and clear?”

“Yes. But I’m only giving you a week to do it.”

“A week?” I step back, afraid he’ll hit me again.

He waves his hand nonchalantly. “I’m a little pressed for time.”

“I need to leave, then—get there.” I run through my head all the ways I can get close to Declan, or maybe his brother Neil. I’m lost and don’t see LeHavre round on me, boxing me in.

“Oh, don’t worry about that. Your chariot waits.” He slaps me so hard my head spins, forcing me to fall to the floor. He’s on top of me ripping my nightclothes off. I’m screaming and kicking until he lands a good punch to my middle, driving the last will of my fight from me.

“Stupid girl. One week. I’ll be in contact.”

I feel the air around me spin and I’m tossed naked inside the carpet, rolling, rolling. It’s hot and I feel claustrophobic, unable to push against the scratchy wool. My chest burns, trying to get air in my struggles, and everything goes dark.

 

“Sydney, you never answered my question.” Declan speaks, looking at me queerly.

“Huh?” I’m caught up in the nightmare of his old sandbox friend tormenting me. We both watch his hand curl over my shoulder and skim down my arm, grazing the fresh bruise with his fingertips. I don’t think I can handle enclosed spaces for a while, and Declan is nearly on top of me despite the size of the room.

“If you’re offering your body in exchange for your father’s debts to be cleared, I’m interested in further negotiations.” He’s so close I can see the lighter rim around his dark irises. His pupils pulse in the firelight. My mouth opens, barely audible making a soft pop. I feel like a fish out of water.

Two men have now offered for me, and neither is a choice I want to make. One man owns me already and the clock is ticking. This man in front of me wants me, but is it too late?

“Sydney.” His voice lowers as his finger trails down my shoulder to my wrist a second time. His fingers close around the bone and skin, tracing a pattern of veins pumping blood in a thready beat throughout my stressed body.

How else will I get close enough to get the property deed, assuming I can even find it?

I think about LeHavre’s threats. LeHavre marked me physically, but my soul is still intact.

“All right.” I swallow the lump in my throat and the dread that he’s going to have buyer’s remorse once he gets his hands on me.

“All right?” He looks almost bewildered and boyishly handsome.

“Yes, my offer still stands, Mr. Natas: my body for a debt.” And may my higher power strike me dead—not for making a deal with the devil, but for betraying him.