I inhale the cocktail of leather and citrus that drifts past my nostrils.

Soft fabric whispers against my skin. My breathing and the thud of my heart are audible in my ears.

Relief—that I’m alive—is the first emotion to trickle into my veins. It’s short-lived, followed by fear that spirals through my body and punches me in the gut.

The last thing I remember is Judson pressing a cloth to my mouth while still fucking me.

My eyeballs roll behind my lids, which feel like sandpaper.

I’m thankful for the weak lighting in the room. Harsh light would be torture to my sore eyes. How long have I been out? And why do I still feel as though I’ve been running a marathon and haven’t slept for days?

I roll my head to one side. A river of spittle pools at the corner of my mouth. I don’t wipe it away. Saliva is the least of my problems.

Some feet away, my captor sits on a leather armchair, wearing a black, long-sleeved cotton V-neck, his well-formed chest and biceps straining against the fabric. A newspaper rests on one denim-clad thigh, a casual hand over it. His intense gaze is fixed on a blazing glass fireplace, like he’s searching for something in the flames.

The crackling fire casts shadows on his face, accentuating his chiseled features. Nothing masks evil quite like good looks.

My chest tightens. This man, this devil in disguise, is the man I once fell in love with. The man whose words melted my body. The man who took my virginity. The man who turned out to be a criminal in more ways than I ever could have imagined.

Before I can think of something to say, he turns his head in my direction. He must have felt my eyes on him. Or perhaps he smelled my fear.

“Hey there, sleepy head.” His voice is like warm, thick honey—gentle and syrupy smooth. I hold my breath as he rises and flings the newspaper onto a coffee table.

He’s taller than I remember, but then again, how would I know how tall he really is? When I visited him in prison, he was always sitting behind the glass that separated us.

I blink several times in an attempt to clear my clouded mind. Traces of whatever drug he used to knock me out are still present in my system.

A smile tips the corner of his mouth as he strides to my bedside. I part my lips to say something—anything to keep him away from me. The words don’t come fast enough.

My mouth is parched, my tongue like paper as he places a warm, dry hand on my forehead.

Adrenaline shoots through my veins, bringing life into my body. I shrink away and shove his hand off me.

“Don’t—don’t touch me.” My voice is broken, but the words push their way through my throat anyway. I run my tongue around my mouth. I’m desperate for a drink to get rid of the dryness and the sour taste at the back of my throat. But he’s the last person I want to ask for help.

“Hey, hey,” he whispers, studying my face. His emerald eyes darken in the soft light, but I detect concern in them. “You don’t have to be afraid. I’m here. I don’t want to hurt you.”

“You don’t want to hurt me? Really?” Laughter builds up within me, but I push it back down. “You kidnapped me.”

I lift my head, but pain slams against my temples. Teeth clenched, I lower myself back down onto the plump pillows.

He sits down on the edge of the bed next to me. His closeness makes my muscles tense.

“You can’t kidnap someone who belongs to you.” He sweeps a strand of hair from my forehead, pushing it behind my ear.

“I... don’t belong to you. I belong to no one but myself.” With my body still at war with whatever drugs he gave me, my slurred words are the only thing I can depend on to save me.

“Okay.” He runs a hand through his hair and chuckles. “That came out wrong. What I meant was that you belong to me, and I belong to you. We belong to each other.”

“Wrong,” I retort, my voice weak but firm. “Before you tricked me and kidnapped me, I wanted nothing to do with you. What we had was sex and nothing more.”

He closes his eyes and pinches the bridge of his nose, then opens his eyes again. “You stopped returning my letters. You ignored me. You shouldn’t have done that.”

“Wrong again. I should have done it sooner.” Now that my anger is boiling to the surface, I can’t stop it from spilling over. “I was a fool to give you the benefit of the doubt. You’re nothing but a stinking criminal—a murderer, a kidnapper, and God knows what else. Nothing would make me happier than to see you rot in prison.”

He raises his hand as though about to strike me, but drops it again. He massages his temple and the storm swirling in his features disappears. “You don’t mean that.”

“I mean every word.” I swallow the lump in my throat. “I should have tried harder to stay away.”

He sucks in a breath and reaches under the covers, enveloping my hand in his. I try to pull away, but he holds tight. “Let’s not fight, rosebud. You need to get your strength back. You’ve been asleep for a while. Allow me to take care of you.” He draws my hand from under the covers and brings it to his lips, kisses my palm, and lowers both our hands onto his warm thigh.

Taking advantage of his relaxed grip, I yank my hand away.

He squares his shoulders and sighs. “This can be a new beginning for both of us. I’ll give you the family you never had. I love you. But you have to stop fighting me.”

“Go to hell. How can you say you love me while holding me hostage? What is this place, anyway?”

“Where we are is not of importance.” He rolls his shoulder. “Let me make one thing clear. Contrary to what you believe, I’m not holding you hostage. I brought you here so we can be alone. We’re together now. We should celebrate our love.”

“You’re delusional.” My hands curl into fists. “You seriously think I can love you after what you’ve done? Never. No wonder Jennifer left you. You’re sick.”

“Don’t ever say that again.” He raises his chin, jaw tight. “Fate brought us together. You said you loved me once; I know you still do. I’ll be a devoted husband to you, and the best father to our kids. Together we can create the perfect family… the perfect life.”

“I don’t marry monsters.” I moisten my dry lips and press my leaden head further into the pillows, wishing they could offer me shelter. “You’re crazy if you think you can keep me here against my will. I’ll find a way to get away from this place, from you.”

“I’m afraid that would be a little complicated. This winter paradise is accessible only by helicopter. But don’t worry: we won’t be staying for long. I wanted to have you to myself for a few days before we go home to start our life together.”

He places a palm on my hot cheek. I turn away, leaving his hand suspended in midair.

“You have to stop resisting.” His voice pounds against the back of my head. “Let’s enjoy our honeymoon.”

My neck pops as I turn to look at him. When our eyes meet, a cold shudder reverberates through me.

Before I can get any words out, he puts a finger to my lips.

“No need to talk. I can read the questions in your eyes.” His shoulders rise and fall as he lets out a breath. “You’re my wife, Ivy. We’re married. I won’t let you walk out on me.”