The screen flickers with pictures of Jennifer Aniston. But all I can see is the movie I keep playing in my own mind—Daddy dying, falling to the ground.

This morning I saw the paper, and there was his picture. He was strong and tall and proud.

My dead father.

The words on the front page of the paper continue to haunt me. On it is a photo of myself and my parents from last summer’s month-long stay on our yacht.

Dad was wearing a fresh, mint green button-down shirt and a pair of crisp khaki shorts, perfect for a tropical vacation. He had a comforting ‘dad smile’ naturally plastered on his carefree face, and he looked handsome.

I can’t believe he’s gone.

I’ll never recover from this.

Hugging his left wrist was the custom Vacheron Constantin I had given him for his birthday three years prior. I smooth my fingers over the diamond necklace he had given me, and I realize I won’t get to buy him a birthday gift this year.

Not ever again.

Fresh tears form in my eyes.

Even when I think I’m all cried out, they keep on coming.

None of us could have seen any of this shit coming. I think again about my mom. She must be so heartbroken and worried about me. I have to find a way to get to her.

The words had fucking jumped out from the newspaper for the sole purpose of sharply digging into my heart without a shred of mercy. Now each one is tattooed on my brain in big, bold print.

Tragedy.

Murder.

Death.

Kidnapping.

Funeral.

The Rose Family.

I fucking feel sick to my stomach.

My father is gone, and he’s never coming back.

I’m trapped by lies, confusion, anxiety, and Nate’s stupid damn penthouse.

Who would’ve thought a pristine five-hundred-thousand-square-foot penthouse with an open floorplan, high ceilings, a slew of private chiefs, a beautiful pool, and a full spa could feel like a six-by-eight-foot prison cell with a musty cot and windowless, concrete walls?

I’m trapped.

It may be a life of luxury, but it’s a prison all the same.

I’ve tanned by the pool, my perfectly bronzed skin evidence of that. I’ve exercised on every damn piece of fancy equipment in Nate’s home gym. Still, I can’t distract myself long enough to calm my racing thoughts.

Is my mother in danger?

Am I going to die?

I can’t tame the worrisome thoughts.

My main frustration is that Nate won’t tell me anything.

Why the hell am I here? Why can’t I leave? Why has my childhood friend kidnapped me like this?

Nate’s image is permanently etched in my mind now, too.

I’ve felt him. I know him. And yet, he’s still keeping me here against my will.

I feel heated at the thought of his hands on my body.

I lift myself from the buttery soft leather recliner in Nate’s home theater. Feeling the knots in my stomach tighten, I take a deep breath. It’s time to get answers.

I pace back and forth on the plush grey-carpeted theater floor while I work up the nerve to say what I need to say.

Running my fingers through my silky blonde hair, I can almost feel Nate taking full control of me last night. It was the most passionate moment I’ve ever experienced in my life.

The memory of him pounding into my tight little cunt with his massive cock all night long sends shivers through my body even now. There’s no way I’ll ever disrespect him...or escape him. I know that deep in my heart.

Whether I want to admit it or not, I do need him. My body needs him. My heart belongs to him.

All of this is undeniable. But right now, I need an explanation from him.

My heart beats hard in my chest as I think about confronting Nate. He dominates me even in this moment when we’re not together. I feel him in my heart, my body, my soul.

He’s everywhere.

And yet, I know I have to do this. I need answers. I can’t live like this—in limbo, away from mother forever.

And so I steel myself and prepare to make my case.

I hold my head high and look for him around the penthouse.

He’s not anywhere on the first floor, so I take the chrome elevator down a level, hoping to find him. I pass the gym, the library, and many rooms before a maid directs me toward the downstairs living room where she says Mr. Sharp is.

As I approach the luxurious living room with a killer view of the city, I hear Nate’s voice speaking in a hushed tone. I lean against a wall trying to catch some of what he’s saying. I can’t hear everything, but Nate sounds seriously pissed off.

Just when I’m beginning to lose my courage, I hear him sigh heavily as he hangs up the phone.

Slowly and quietly, I peek into the living room where Nate is sitting on a black sectional sofa. He’s holding a crystal glass of some kind of alcohol. I watch him take a long sip and look at his phone.

His muscular body is on display, and I feel heat rising in me again.

I can’t see what’s on the screen, but his clenched jaw and furrowed brow tell me it’s not good. Even in this moment, I want him.

I imagine him fucking me over this couch, having his way with me, making me beg for more. Wetness forms between my thighs, and I try to control it, but it’s irreversible.

Nate is my master.

I exhale and flip my hair as I casually stride from behind the wall. Nate sees my reflection in the window in front of him, but he doesn’t react.

Just above a whisper, I coyly call out his name.

He avoids eye contact. He’s looking at his phone again.

“Not now, Sienna.”

“Yes now, Nate. We need to talk right now.”

He’s agitated, but I don’t give a damn. I’ve come this far, and I’m not backing down now.

“Sienna.” His voice is full of warning.

“Tell me what’s going on, Nate,” I continue. “I feel trapped. I fucking hate this! And I hate you for keeping me here!”

He doesn’t flinch. His eyes are still on the lit iPhone.

I’m sad. I’m afraid. I’m mourning.

And I need him to comfort me somehow, someway.

I need answers. I promise myself I won’t stand down until I get answers.

I’m serious whether he realizes it or not.

With clenched fists, I walk over to Nate. I stand right in front of him, demanding his attention.

He looks up at me with a half-smile like he can’t believe what I’m doing. He’s fucking amused by my display of power, and that pisses me off.

I’m not putting on a show.

Fuck this.

I’m shouting now, “I’ve been in this goddamn penthouse for days with no contact with the outside world! My father is dead, and I can’t even attend the funeral. I don’t know how my mother’s doing. Is she even safe? Can’t you tell me at least that much? None of this makes any sense, and I blame you!”

“Sienna, calm the fuck down. I can’t answer all your questions right now. You just need to trust me.”

His eyes are pleading with mine, yet his voice is lacking emotion. I’m not really sure what to believe. I fidget with the diamond necklace my father gave me as if it can give me some kind of strength.

I try to calm my voice, but there’s a tremor in it despite my best efforts.

I ask simply the question that’s most on my mind, “What am I doing here? Am I your prisoner?”

With cold, stony eyes, he merely replies, “Yes.”

And then I watch as he takes a calculated sip of his drink.

My stomach flips with nausea.

This can’t be happening.

My worst fears are realized.

I’m his...prisoner. Unable to leave.

In this moment, my composure fades. My world comes crashing down in an instant, and everything I knew about life before Daddy’s death is gone.

I don’t have anyone.

I’m alone in this shattered existence.

I turn and run upstairs to my room.

He doesn’t come after me, even though I want him to.

I cry into the cashmere blanket on my bed and watch thick inky streams of black mascara ruin it. I don’t care.

I wish I could ruin his world the way he’s ruined mine.

Escape is on my mind, and it will forever be until I can get out of this situation.