Liam insisted we leave, not even taking a second to text his parents and let them know.

He called for the car, and as we waited outside for the valet to bring it around, I made the mistake of telling him that I’d noticed the man sitting at the table next to me earlier, that he’d been staring at me.

Liam’s shoulders tensed.

He was quiet on the ride back to his parents’ house. It still didn’t seem as if he’d texted them to let them know we’d left, and I knew better than to ask.

When we pulled into the driveway, Liam cut the engine, but made no move to get out of the car.

It was dark and the air outside was still. This wasn’t the kind of neighborhood where someone would be having a party or kids would be walking around late at night, shouting to each other. Everything was quiet.

We sat there in the dark, the only light coming from the outside lights of the house, two on either side of the front door, and a line of them flanking the stone walkway that led up to the front porch.

“You need to be more careful, Emery,” Liam said sternly.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” I said, turning on him. “I need to be more careful?”

“Yes.”

“That’s bullshit.”

I went to get out of the car, but he locked the door, keeping me prisoner.

“You know, you have some nerve,” I said. “You’re the one who left me to go downstairs with your father. You’re the one who doesn’t tell me anything. You won’t even tell me why we have to be careful, what these people -- ”

“You know there are people out there who want to hurt you, Emery. You’ve known that since Vegas.”

“You won’t tell me anything!” I said. I knew I was repeating myself, but I didn’t care. “You’re blaming me for something that isn’t even my fault.”

“I’m not blaming you. I’m telling you that you need to be more careful.”

“This is ridiculous.” I hit the button to unlock the door, then opened it before he could stop me and stepped out onto the driveway.

“Where are you going?” he demanded, opening his own door and following me.

“I’m leaving,” I said, opening my purse and reaching for my phone. “I’m calling an Uber, I’m going to the airport, and I’m leaving.”

“No, you’re not.” He grabbed my purse and held it out of my reach.

“Oh, of course,” I said. “Of course you would do that, of course you would try to keep me here, because that’s what you do.” My hands curled into fists by my sides, and I resisted the urge to scream. “You use your size and your power to keep me here, and it’s fucked up, Liam.”

His eyes burned with desire, and I saw him looking at me, taking in the dress I was wearing, his gaze roaming over my body hungrily.

He took a step toward me, and I tensed as my body did exactly what he’d primed it to do. My breathing deepened, my body flushed warm, and the spot between my legs pulsed with need.

I crossed my arms over my chest. I hated this. Hated this dynamic between us, hated the power he had over me, even as my body screamed for it.

He moved toward me, his hand closing around mine.

“You want to leave?” he asked.

“Yes.” I thrust my chin into the air, wondering if this would snap him out of his insistence on keeping things from me.

His eyes narrowed, and then he was grabbing me around the waist, picking me up from the ground and carrying me inside.

“Too bad.”

* * *

When we got to the bedroom, he stripped me, his movements harsh, pulling my dress from my body, unsnapping my bra, pulling my panties off roughly.

He was completely shut down now, still the man who’d picked me up that night, not the man he’d been the other night on his jet. Ever since we’d been here, at his parents’ house, he’d been that man, the dark one. He’d shown no sign of the humanity I’d seen glimpses of since being with him.

He allowed me to wash my face, to use the bathroom and brush my teeth. And then he handcuffed me to the bed.

I was naked, and I watched as his gaze roamed over my body. I forced myself to keep my eyes on his, not knowing how much more of this I could take, how much longer I could try to get through to him.

It was unbearable.

I waited, wondering what new sexual torture awaited me this time.

I could tell he wanted me.

I could see the arousal on his face, in the way his breathing quickened and his eyes hooded.

I wanted to turn away from him, but I wanted him more, wanted to connect with him.

He reached down and slid his finger down my naked body, over my chin, down between my breasts, over my abdomen, stopping just before the mound of my pussy.

I was sure he was teasing me.

But after a long moment, he turned away, leaving me there on the bed as he left the room, slamming the door behind him.

* * *

I couldn’t sleep.

I tossed and turned, the thin blanket he’d given me providing no comfort.

After a couple of hours, I heard a voice coming through the open window, the one that looked out over the backyard.

Liam.

I couldn’t hear what he was saying, but it sounded like he was arguing with someone.

Was he on the phone?

I pulled on the handcuffs experimentally, surprised to see that there was a tiny bit of give to them. Liam must have been in such a rush to cuff me that he hadn’t tightened them enough.

I pulled, trying to free myself, biting my lip to keep from screaming in pain as the metal bit into my wrist. There was a moment where I was afraid that not only wasn’t I not going to be able to get out, but that my wrist was going to get caught in the metal.

But a second later, I was free.

I gasped out loud in happiness and disbelief.

I rushed to the window and looked down at the yard below.

I couldn’t see anything in the darkness.

All I could hear was Liam’s voice, now coming from further down the house, to my right.

I still couldn’t make out what he was saying, only that he sounded agitated.

I threw on a sweatshirt and the yoga pants I’d worn on the plane, stopping to pull on a pair of socks, figuring they would help mask my footsteps.

Then I headed downstairs, navigating the wide hallways of the sprawling house, wincing every time one of the floorboards cracked, sure that suddenly Annabelle was going to come rushing out of the shadows, demanding to know what I was doing.

I followed the sound of Liam’s voice toward the side of the house, where the formal living room was located.

The window here wasn’t opened the way it had been upstairs, so even though I was closer, Liam’s voice was more muffled.

I flattened myself against the wall and peered through the Venetian shutters, which were slightly opened, just enough for me to see out.

The upper half of Liam’s body came into view.

He was standing in the side yard, but he wasn’t on the phone like I’d first thought.

He was with Drew.

I watched the two men just a few feet away from me, my heart pounding as I imagined what Liam would do to me if he found out I was spying.

“You’re being a stubborn fuck, Liam,” Drew said. He was smoking a cigarette, and I was almost sure I could smell the smoke wafting through the glass, even though the window was shut.

“You have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Maybe. But that doesn’t explain why you won’t give your father the money for Portland.”

“You know damn well why I won’t give my father the money for Portland.”

“You’re really going to do this? This is insane, Liam. You realize what the consequences are, right?” The rest of what he was saying was cut off. He wasn’t talking as loud as Liam was, which is why I’d thought Liam had been on the phone at first.

“Is this about Vienna?” I heard Drew say, and my breath caught.

“I could give two shits about Vienna,” Liam said.

“Spoken like a man who could give a shit,” Drew said. My eyes were adjusting to the darkness, and when Drew took another puff of his cigarette, I saw the anger on Liam’s face. “Emery’s hot, bro, don’t get me wrong, but you know Vienna and that kinky –”

I watched Liam snap, watched as he grabbed Drew by the shoulders and slammed him up against the side of the house so hard that the window next to me shook.

I jumped back at the same time that I heard another noise, this one coming from upstairs.

Someone – Malcolm or Annabelle – was coming down the stairs. Shit. There was no way I could have them catch me lurking around their living room.

I didn’t have time to go back up the stairs – they would see me on the way back up – so I rushed through the hallway and into the kitchen, deciding that my best bet was to pretend I was getting a glass of water.

I began opening cupboards frantically, searching for a glass, hoping that by the time whoever it was came downstairs, I’d be leaning against the counter casually, enjoying my drink.

But there were no glasses in the cupboards.

In fact, there were no glasses anywhere.

The cupboards were bare, empty, their shelves wiped clean, not a speck of dust or dirt anywhere.

I frowned and began opening more cabinets, thinking that maybe since it was just the two of them, Annabelle and Malcolm didn’t use all of them.

But every cupboard I opened was bare. No plates, no cups, no glasses, nothing.

“Couldn’t sleep?” Malcolm’s deep voice boomed out behind me.

I turned, caught, and tried not to look guilty.

“I was thirsty,” I said, my heart pounding so fast that I could hear the blood pounding in my ears. “I thought I’d get some water.”

He stared at me, waiting for me to admit that I hadn’t found any glasses in the house. But something about his cool eyes made me think this would be a major mistake, that any mention of the lack of kitchenware would cause him to become upset.

We stood like that for a long moment, and I willed myself not to look away, somehow sensing that this, too, would be a bad move.

It was difficult – Malcolm may have looked like an older version of Liam, but there was something off about him. Malcolm had a hardness to him, a coldness that was unlike anything Liam had ever displayed to me.

Liam was stoic, he could shut down and yes, he’d kidnapped me. But beneath the surface Liam’s real truth shone through, the look in his eyes sometimes betraying his demons, letting me know that whatever haunted him were ghosts beyond his control, something that had happened to him, events and circumstances that caused him to be the way he was.

Malcolm, on the other hand, had a coldness in his eyes that seemed like it was just there, like it was a part of him.

He studied me with those cold eyes now, his gaze on mine.

I didn’t look away, even as he moved to the other side of the room, opened the refrigerator and pulled out a bottle of water, which he handed to me.

“Thank you.” I opened it and took a sip. My stomach was rolling, and the water tasted somehow warm, even though it had just come from the refrigerator.

“You’re welcome.”

I forced myself to swallow. “Well, I guess I’ll head back up to bed.”

“Aren’t you going to ask me?”

“Ask you what?”

“Why there are no glasses in the house.”

“Oh,” I said, my stomach turning. “I just… I didn’t …”

He stepped toward me. “You seem like a nice girl, Emery.”

I wasn’t sure what I was supposed to say to that, so I stayed quiet.

“Which is why I’m going to tell you what I’m about to tell you, and I hope you’ll take it in the spirit with which it’s intended.” He paused, as if he were waiting for me to say that I would, but I stayed silent. I had a feeling talking to Malcolm was like being arrested – anything you said could and would be used against you. “Liam is not a nice man, Emery. He tries, but he needs… guidance.”

“Guidance?”

“Yes.” Malcolm nodded and then rubbed the back of his neck. For the first time since he’d come into the kitchen, he looked away from me.

My shoulders relaxed.

“He needs a woman who can be strong for him, who can take control of him, who can let him know exactly what he needs and wants. That’s why Vienna was so…” He trailed off. “Anyway. His mother and I want him home with us, want him to move back here, to oversee my restaurants in the Pacific Northwest, specifically Portland.”

“Liam doesn’t need my help when it comes to business.”

“No, that’s true. Liam is a business genius. But he does need your help seeing how important his family is to him. This would be a good move for him, Emery. For the both of you.”

“Liam makes his own decisions,” I said, capping my water bottle. “Now if you’ll excuse me, it’s late.”

* * *

When Liam returned to bed a couple of hours later, I was still awake, laying on my back, staring up at the ceiling.

His clothes were disheveled, his hair mussed, his body radiating adrenaline and masculine energy. Like he’d gotten into a fight.

But I knew better than to ask questions.

I watched as he gazed down at me, taking in the fact that I’d taken my handcuffs off. His eyes blazed with anger and I thought for sure he was going to punish me – I could tell from the way his eyes lingered on my body that he wanted me, that he needed a release -- but he didn’t touch me.

Instead, he placed the handcuffs back around my wrist, the click echoing through the silence of the dark room.

He lay next to me, cold and quiet, and then without saying anything, he reached over and picked Harry Potter up off the nightstand.

He began to read it out loud, his voice soft and deep.

It took me a second to realize why he was doing it.

My text to Maddie.

The one I’d sent her earlier, about how I’d always wanted someone to read that book to me.

Liam was able to read all my communications

He must have seen the text.

And now he was reading to me.

I laid there, afraid to move, my eyes filling with tears as his words washed over me.

A second later, I felt his hand find mine under the covers, our fingers intertwining as the story washed over me.

That’s how we stayed all night, until I fell asleep just as the sun was cresting the horizon, his hand only leaving mine to turn the pages.