Sienna
My throat is raw.
My arms are sore.
My breath catches; I’m crying again.
I thought I saw hope in the handsome man’s eyes.
But there was none.
Men in ski masks drag me from the SUV to a limo.
I scream. I kick at them.
They throw my in with a thud.
The door slams shut.
For a moment I’m alone.
I’m afraid. I need to get out.
I don’t know what’s going to happen to me next.
In the dark quiet of the limo, I look for an escape.
The warehouse is empty; there’s nowhere to hide, nowhere to run.
I don’t know how I’m going to get through this. What’s next?
The handsome guy joins me in the back seat of the limo. I scramble to the furthest corner of the seat, trying to get away from him.
I close my eyes; I wait.
I can guess what’s coming. I know what can happen.
Not like this, I pray.
I can feel him near me; he’s in the seat across from me. I feel him lean forward; his hands are cool when he lifts my wrists.
I brace myself, expecting to be pulled to the floor. I don’t know why I’m here in this limo, but it can’t be for anything good.
Cold metal touches the inside of my wrists.
Snap.
The tape is cut. I open my eyes; his eyes are inches from my own. I look down.
The handsome man is snapping a Swiss army knife close and putting it back in his pocket. He sets my free hands back into my lap.
I think about opening the door. I want to run, but he’s so close and dangerous. I watch him; he’s watching me.
My breath slows to match his steady pace.
The door away from me opens, and two more men join us in the back of the limo; they nod to the guy across from me and sit further forward, facing away from me.
I hear the locks click.
I close my eyes again. Nothing makes sense.
We’re moving.
Ice clinks and liquid pours into crystal.
“Here.” His voice is softer now than it was in the warehouse. “Whiskey. You could probably use it.”
I open my eyes to see the stranger holding out a glass. My hands shake when I reach for it. Our fingers brush when I take the glass, and I feel a shock of electricity.
I gulp down the drink, warmth spreads through my body.
Why is he being so nice to me?
Where are they taking me?
Why the fuck are they taking me in a limo?
I don’t understand.
And then it dawns on me...
I’m being kidnapped.
Someone had wanted to make a statement.
They had guns.
My father.
He tried to stop them.
They shot him.
My father, the kindest man in the world, is dead.
He was killed.
Now I am in a limo with a man I don’t want to take my eyes off. He freed my hands and gave me a drink, but he told me he isn’t my savior.
So, who is he?
One of the other guys says something I can’t really hear, and the dangerous handsome stranger turns halfway around to answer him.
But he still keeps an eye on me.
I press my head against the tinted window. I can almost see out into the night, at the lacework of city lights.
The night goes on like my father wasn’t just murdered, like there isn’t a gaping hole in the world.
I grasp my necklace, the faceted diamonds imprinting on my hand as I hold it tight. Only hours ago, I told him I would always be his baby girl. Hot tears run down my cheeks.
I try to be quiet. I don’t want these men to notice me crying. I don’t want to give them my grief.
I want to be strong, but I’m not. Right now, I’m alone and my heart is broken.
The glass falls from my hand, and I can’t even move to pick it up.
Soft fabric touches my limp hands. A linen handkerchief. I turn my head, but the man is purposely looking away from me.
A new wave of tears hits me. I don’t fucking understand.
Why is he being kind? I can’t figure it out, and I don’t have the heart to guess.
Someone has shattered my world, but here in this limo there’s a chilling sense of normalcy.
I can feel his eyes on me. My dress is in disarray, my shoes and makeup are ruined, but I can feel the heat of his gaze raking over my body.
He watches me like a hunter, with me as his prey. Men always look at me, but there’s something more here. There’s a heat, an electricity I’ve never felt before.
He wants to devour me, but something is holding him back.
Why would a kidnapper hold back?
What more can they possibly want to take from me?
There is one thing, though.
The car slows. Outside the window, I can see an open gate and the glittering lights of a modern mansion at the end of a long driveway.
It must be lovely, but I barely notice it.
A part of me was hoping this was the end of a terrible macabre joke. That at the end of this ride, I would be home. My father would greet me and tell me this was all a terrible dream or a prank gone wrong.
No.
This is not my home. This man is a dangerous criminal. He is handsome and seemingly kind, but he’s not on my side.
The heavy gate shuts with a clang, ending my fevered fantasy with a final shudder. The limo inches up the driveway. I shut my eyes again.
Please, let me wake up.
The car stops.
The men get out of the limo.
I’m alone again. I want to stay here in the dark.
If I can’t go home...then, I don’t want to go anywhere else.
I think nothing bad can happen to me here, not alone, not in the dark, not in a limo.
The guy leans in and extends his hand—a mockery of chivalry. Without thinking, I let him help me out of the car.
When our hands touch, I feel that same jolt of electricity.
I stand in the gravel, in my ruined Jimmy Choos, standing on my own for the first time since this horrible nightmare began.
The guy stands next to me. I feel small and vulnerable next to him.
It’s either an echo of safety or the warning of danger.
I don’t know.
The house is mostly glass, with sharp modern lines—strong and dangerous just like him.
He isn’t a savior.
But he can’t be a monster either.