Sienna
Edison Shaw is a malicious powerhouse. He’ll kill to get what he wants.
He didn’t become a billionaire mob boss by playing with rescue kittens and helping old ladies cross the street.
He’s ruthless. A legend, even.
I heard that Edison shot his own father for getting in his way. Although, he was careful not to kill him. Edison just made it so he was paralyzed from the waist down and stuck being fed through a tube for the rest of his miserable fucking life.
So, how the hell did I end up sitting on a white leather twenty-thousand-dollar sofa in the living room of his mansion in the middle of the night?
I’m just the hook he needs to catch a bigger, pricier fish.
“That bitch ass traitor will come marching in here looking for you. Like he’s gonna save the day or some shit!” he snarls through a tight jaw.
A petite redhead in pair of black limited edition Christian Louboutin heels and a sheer, floor-length lace robe hands him a Scotch on the rocks before quietly disappearing into another room. Her sweet perfume briefly lingers after she leaves.
I feel hot and scared. The walls are closing in fast as I think of what will happen to Nate if he comes to find me.
“He’ll be shot a hundred times before he fucking makes it through the front door!” Edison lets out a chilling laugh without breaking eye contact with me.
He makes me feel tiny.
I look down into my lap at my wrists, tightly bound by a zip tie. I can’t stand hearing him talk about Nate that way.
I wish I could warn him.
“Oh, have I struck a nerve, princess?”
Edison is in my face now, tightly gripping my jaw forcing me to look up at him.
My eyes shift back and forth throughout the room.
“You can’t escape.”
He laughs and removes his hand from my face.
I feel dirty.
He sits next to me on the couch and puts his tattooed left arm over my shoulder, pulling me closer to him. He smells my hair and grabs my face again—with force, this time.
Edison kisses my lips and whispers into my ear, “We’re gonna have a little fun before Nate gets here.”
He licks my earlobe and says, “I bet you have a sweet little cunt, don’t you?”
I don’t respond.
“Don’t you?” he yells, pulling my hair so hard, I think he’s going to snap my neck.
“Yes, yes I do!” I scream between gasps, fighting back tears.
Edison stands in front of me, so the crotch of his black jeans is in my face.
He grabs his cock and says, “It’s nice and hard for you, princess.”
His smile is chilling. He motions for me to stand.
I reluctantly do what I’m told.
In a cheerful tone, Edison says, “Let’s go up to my bedroom where we’ll have more privacy.”
Edison grabs me by the neck, forcing me to kiss him while I’m choking.
I want to vomit.
He picks me up over his shoulder and carries me to his bedroom, humming a Marvin Gaye song like he truly thinks this sick shit is romantic.
I am terrified.
After we enter the lavish, master suite with its own doorbell, terrace, double bathroom, and stunning hardwood floors, Edison throws my body down onto the plush king-sized bed like a rag doll.
“I want to taste you,” he says. “But first, I need you to show me what you’re made of.”
There goes that smile again. I feel sick to my stomach.
Edison pulls a chrome pocketknife from his belt. I gasp as he quickly points the blade in my direction. When I realize he just wanted to cut was the zip tie, I foolishly release a sigh of relief as if my life had been spared.
Edison laughs maniacally just before he says, “Don’t worry, princess. I need you alive until Nate gets here. Then, I’ll kill you both.”
I have to do something. Say something.
Anything to save his life, my life.
“Edison, I uh—”
“Shut up!”
Edison pulls out a duct tape from the drawer of the bedside table and proceeds to tape my mouth and wrists. He pulls me to my feet by my hair and bends me over the bed.
He’s going to rape me.
Torture me.
And then…kill me.
Edison fiercely pulls my jeans and panties down.
When I feel the fabric drop to my ankles, my world goes dark.
The door flies open before he can finish unbuckling his belt.
Thank God!
It’s one of Edison’s men.
Dammit!
“What is it, Mike? This interruption better be important,” Edison snarls.
“We have a, uh, situation downstairs.”
“Fuck! Alright, alright. I’m coming.”
The angry mob boss throws me onto my back and says, “Don’t go anywhere. I’ll be back for that sweet little ass in a few minutes.”
Seconds after leaving me alone in the room with the door closed, I hear a loud sound coming from downstairs.
Gunshots.
My mind starts racing.
I jump up from the huge bed and dart to the farthest, darkest corner in the bedroom beside Edison’s armoire. I crouch down with my knees to my chest, trying my best to protect myself.
Bang! Bang!
I can’t feel anything from head to toe. My body is void of all senses. A numbing calm runs over me, lasting a minute—or maybe several hours.
I don’t know.
Silence.
No, no I can’t be next!
My calm subsides, and I find myself in an alarming state of panic.
Holding my knees closer to my chest than I ever knew I could, my quivering body goes hot.
This is it.
Little beads of sweat turn to tiny rivers, ambitiously flowing from my hairline and through my temples. Just after the river passes my brows, I feel drops of sweat invade my eyes, causing them to sting and blurring my vision.
Reacting to the burn, I briefly hold my breath and close my eyes tightly.
I’m trying not to cry.
Tightening my core and leaning deeper into the corner, I take deep breaths, fighting off a panic attack.
I’m preparing for what’s next.
The end.
I’m going to die today, and I can’t do anything to stop that.
I hear his footsteps, heavy and slow, pushing into the freshly-polished hardwood floors. I hear his breath as he comes closer to the door.
No one will hear me scream, no matter how loud I am. Edison’s estate is tucked away on its own remote piece of ten-acre land.
No one will find me.
Sweat fills my palms, and I bite down on my bottom lip so hard that a lonely drop of blood is by the tip of my tongue.
I lower my head, pressing my face against my knees.
I’m bracing.
Constantly bracing.
He’ll take his time with me, just as he promised. Raping me with rage and evil in his eyes.
The torture will last until he’s received just the right amount of pleasure from my humiliation and pain. And I’m sure I’ll be begging for death by then.
I’m his plaything.
Bait used to lure Nate to his death.
A disposable pawn with no way to fight.
Edison’s footsteps stop, and so does my breathing.
I slowly lift my head to watch the door open.
It takes a lifetime for him to walk through. Everything is happening in slow motion.
Even with light creeping in from the hall behind him, I can’t see his face clearly.
Still, I know something isn’t right.
He looks different. Did he change his clothes?
No, he looks taller too.
I don’t think it’s Edison.
Great. He sent someone for me.
They’ll take turns…
My head is back on my knees, and I silently cry into them, thinking of the life I’ll leave behind. I hear him approaching me, walking much quicker than he had moved toward the door.
His excitement is my downfall.
He whispers my name with gentle command.
Wait—I know that voice.
I feel his body kneel to the floor just a couple of inches in front of me. My back is against the corner of the wall.
I know that smell.
Expensive cologne and bourbon.
I lift my head to meet his sexy, dark brown eyes staring down at me.
With his muscular body leaning over mine, I feel protected.
Nate’s here.