Hayden Vale was right in front of me, standing over me so he could get a better look at the gash on my forehead.

His jogging pants hung low on his hips, and as he lifted his arm to wipe away the blood around the wound, his close-fitting t-shirt rode up, exposing the tan, smooth ridges of his abs and those annoyingly hot lines right between his hips and stomach.

Damn, what was that part of a man called? I searched my mind for the name. Something to do with Adonis, I thought, and I could see why. Perhaps they should rename them ‘girl bait’ and be done with it.

I couldn’t believe I was even thinking about that when I was his prisoner and my nose was all banged up, but his proximity did strange things to me. His touch on my head was gentle, though I flinched with each dab of the tissue he used to wipe away the rest of the blood. Was I so starved for human contact that I’d even take this man? I had the ridiculous urge to leaned forward and press my cheek against the taut muscles of his stomach and wrap my arms around his waist. I hated that I was attracted to him, but it was hard not to be when he looked the way he did. It occurred to me that in the position we were currently in, I would only have to duck a little lower to carry on where we’d left off the previous evening. Of course, I’d struggle, what with not being able to breathe out of my nose and all.

A strange, bunged-up snort of laughter erupted from me at the thought, and Hayden stepped back and frowned. “What was that?”

I bit my lower lip, trying to contain my mirth. I must have hit my head harder than I’d previously thought, as I’d clearly lost my everlasting mind. I had a possible broken nose, and I was considering how hard it would be to give my kidnapper a blowjob when I couldn’t even breathe through it.

I couldn’t look at him. “Sorry,” I manage to squeak. “Keep going.”

He frowned at me again as though he couldn’t quite work me out, and then picked up the medical kit he’d brought down. “I’m going to put some antiseptic cream on the cut, which might sting a little, and then use some Steri-Strips to hold the wound shut, okay? It looked worse than it really is, but it’s still quite deep.”

“Let’s hope my nose also looks worse than it really is,” I replied. My face throbbed with the rhythm of my heartbeat. I did hope it wasn’t broken, but there wasn’t much I could do about it if it was. “I assume you’re not going to take me to the Emergency Room if it is?”

He frowned. “You know I can’t do that.” Then he paused and added, “Actually, even if I wanted to, I couldn’t. Henry and Javier still haven’t returned with the plane.”

This was new information. “They haven’t? Why not? Is the weather still bad?”

“It might be down to that, but I would have thought they’d contact me if something had happened.”

“Unless they’re unable to.”

His lips twisted. “Yeah, that’s what worries me.”

“So, we’re trapped here, on the island?”

He lifted his dark eyebrows. “We wouldn’t be if you haven’t untied the boat.”

Shit. This was going to be my fault again, wasn’t it? I hated his ability to twist things around so I was the one to blame, even though he was the one who’d kidnapped me. I wouldn’t even be in this situation if he hadn’t brought me here. Wasn’t that one of the telling signs of a narcissist? That they had the ability to twist everything around and make you question yourself when really it was their fault.

“I wouldn’t have untied the boat if you hadn’t abducted me,” I snapped, not intending to let him get away with it.

“I wouldn’t have abducted you if you hadn’t protected your fucking father and got my mother killed.”

I gritted my teeth, scowling, clenching my fists to contain my emotions. He always had a comeback for everything.

He used the Steri-Strips, pressing too hard, sending pain through my scalp. “Ouch.”

“Sorry,” he said, though he didn’t sound it in the slightest.

We fell silent as he continued to patch me up. My thoughts were a torrent.

“Can’t you hire another boat or a plane?” I asked suddenly. “It isn’t as though you can’t afford it.”

“It’s not the hiring of the transport that’s the problem,” he replied. “It’s the people I’d be hiring it from. I had this all planned out, and I think someone is going to get suspicious if I bring a beaten-up girl onto a plane or boat with me. It’s one thing if those people were already working for me, and I’d already vetted them and checked they knew how to keep their mouth closed, but not if it’s just some random company I’m going to be forced to find.”

My mind whirred, wondering what this meant. If he couldn’t get off the island—or at least couldn’t get me off the island, what would he do with me? He’d have no use for me anymore. Was he capable of killing me? I wasn’t sure. He had moments of kindness—gentleness, even—like right now where he was patching me up, or when he’d brought down wine and a homecooked meal. But then he could be cold and vicious, and I was terrified of him in those moments.

I remembered we weren’t completely alone on the island. “What about Loretta? Is she feeling well again?”

“She’s doing better, but she’s not up and about yet.”

“Does she have some way of organizing for us to get off the island?”

He leaned away from me and looked at me as though I’d lost my mind. “She’s the housekeeper, Jolie. Of course she doesn’t.”

My cheeks burned, feeling stupid. I was clutching at straws, but that was all I had. I didn’t want to die on this island. I couldn’t stand the idea of this being the last thing or place I’d ever see.

“What if I cooperated?” I suggested. “I’d be good as gold. I’d sit quietly and nod, and smile and not say a word.”

“First of all, the state of your face will immediately make people suspicious. Secondly, I can’t trust you. You’ve proven that much.”

“If you want to do this, then you’re going to have to trust me. What’s the other option—that you call this whole thing off? I think I know you well enough by now to see how that would be the very last thing you’d want to do. You said you’d been planning and working your whole life to use me to take revenge on my father, and you’re just going to give up at the first hurdle.”

He glared at me. “You don’t know me at all. And it’s not giving up, it’s adapting.”

“Call it whatever you want. Seems like the same thing to me.”

He fell silent, and my pulse quickened. Was he considering my suggestion? The possibility of not only getting out of this room but also getting off the island made me lightheaded with possibility. If we were on the road, traveling, there would be other people—people I could ask for help. I didn’t want to get anyone else involved in my mess, but I would if it meant my escape. I hoped Hayden wasn’t capable of killing an innocent person if they tried to help me.

If I was going to convince Hayden to do this, I needed to step up my acting game. I had no intention of being a pawn in his plan to kill my father, but he didn’t know that I wasn’t going to do what he wanted.

“I hate him, you know,” I said, quietly.

Hayden stopped dabbing my head and frowned down at me. “What?”

“I think there’s a good chance I hate him even more than you. He was the first man I ever trusted, and he destroyed that trust in the worst possible way. He stole your family, but he stole mine, too. My mother killed herself, and as soon as my brother was old enough, he put as much distance between us as possible. I had my aunt, but things were always strained between us. She was grieving over her sister, and trying to raise two messed up kids when she never even wanted children of her own. You might not think I’m a victim, but that doesn’t change how I feel about him. I hate him just as much as you, if not more, and I’ll be happy to see him dead. If that means helping you do it, then I’m okay with that.”

Hayden touched the bottom of my chin and lifted my face to his. My breath caught, my heart racing. For a moment, I thought he might kiss me, but instead his emerald gaze bored into mine, as though he was trying to read my mind. I felt trapped by him, and not because I was handcuffed and locked beneath his house. In that moment, even if we’d been out in the open and my hands had been free, I thought I would still be pinned by the weight of his stare.

“You used it,” he said. His tone was soft, but it contained something dangerous approaching, like the low hum of a distant train on a track, as yet unseen, but hurtling toward the person on the rails.

“What?” I didn’t understand.

“You used his murders to get ahead in life. You used it to secure your university place, and you used it again during your talk to get credits. Who would you be, Jolie, if you weren’t Patrick Dorman’s daughter? Do you even know?”

Sudden tears trembled in my eyes, and his face blurred before me. “I... I never meant for it to come across like that.”

He released my chin. “Well, it did, and you have to live with that.”

He finished what he was doing and picked up the pieces of bloodied tissue and the first aid box. “I’ll leave you with the ice. Keep it on your nose, and the swelling will soon go down.”

I nodded, staring at my cuffed hands, unable to look at him as he turned and left.

Maybe he was right. Who would I be if I wasn’t Patrick Dorman’s daughter? Who had I been before I’d found out about the murders? I wasn’t sure I even remembered anymore. I had brief memories of being happy—of vacations, birthdays, and holidays—but they were more like movie clips I’d watched of someone else. The person I’d become after the truth had come out had been wholly formed by his actions, and there was nothing I could do about that.

Maybe my brother had done the right thing by disowning his remaining family and changing his name. If I’d done the same, instead of trying to own who I was, would none of this be happening to me now? Maybe then I’d have figured out who Jolie Dorman really was instead of allowing my father’s actions to define me.

Maybe then Hayden Vale would never have found me.

I’d thought I was doing the brave thing by keeping my name and speaking up about what had happened, but perhaps I’d done the opposite. Had I used it as a blanket to hide behind?

An excuse to never have to learn who I was other than the daughter of a serial killer?