Chapter 3

Leo

That was easy.

That was so. Fucking. Easy.

I almost feel bad about it. Kristen really trusted me for a little while there, and I…well, I roofied her. And now, I’m kidnapping her…

Poor girl didn’t even stand a chance—not really.

But they never do.

I don’t know why I’m still surprised that they fall for my act. But then, a lot of people are suckers for a guy with my kind of face and body, and my confidence usually keeps their attention and makes them trust me. A lot of people—women especially—are suckers for a man who sits comfortably on the sexy side of arrogance.

And, what can I say? After all these years, I’m just good at my job.

That’s why Lawson trusts me so much. I bet there’s no one else he’d rather ask to slip a girl away from a wedding without anyone noticing.

Now that the guests are in the wedding hall, it’s all too easy to scoop Kristen up into my arms—bridal style, ironically—and carry her out to where my car is. A part of me keeps waiting for something to go wrong—for her to wake up, or for us to get stopped, and questioned by someone…but we don’t.

One of the employees stops us briefly as we make our way to the exit, looking at me and then at Kristen, whose head is resting against my chest and is dead to the world.

“Is she okay?” he asks.

“Yeah, she’s fine,” I say with a smile. “She just hit the complimentary champagne a bit too hard, I think she was nervous about the wedding.”

“Of course.” The man smiles back and lets us carry on our way as I take her out into the parking lot.

I look over my shoulder as I open my car door carefully, making sure not to bump Kristen’s head or leg or whatever on the corner of the car. Lawson would be pissed if I showed up with her looking like she just stepped out of the ring with Ronda Rousey.

It’s my job to get her to the warehouse. Whatever happens to her after that is not on my head or coming out of my paycheck, and I’m determined to get every dollar that Oberon Lawson owes me.

‘Cause once I’ve got the money, I’m done. I’m out.

After tonight, I’m never going to lift another girl, whether it’s from a wedding, a birthday or a funeral…

It doesn’t matter how much you pay me. I’m through with it.

After tonight, I’ll have enough money to tell Lawson to go fuck himself, and with the leftover dollars, I’ll finally have enough money to start running my own business as a bodyguard.

I know, the irony is unbearable.

But I’m good at getting people who don’t want to be—I’d almost say I was the best, if I was feeling cocky. And when word goes around that I’m starting an agency, I’ll hire new recruits and train them to be as good as me; so that one day I’ll be able to kick back, put my feet up, and watch the cash roll in as I profit on people’s paranoia.

And all I’ve got to do is get to the warehouse in one piece and let Lawson do whatever he wants with her.

Which is not very nice of me either. However, I didn’t get this far in life by being a bleeding heart, and besides, it’s not like Kristen is completely innocent in all of this. When you rack up that much debt from gambling with men like Lawson, you’ve got to expect some kind of repercussion to come your way.

The bank of Mom and Dad isn’t going to bail you out forever, and sometimes you just have to be a grownup and face the consequences of your actions…which is what Kristen is going to be doing today.

I don’t think about what those consequences might be. It’s better if I don’t.

Like I said, once I hand her over, she’s not my problem. I’ll be driving into the sunset, sipping on expensive champagne as I celebrate my new life of freedom.

I carry Kristen from the car over my shoulder, taking her through the dark warehouse and into the main room. She’s beginning to loll and stir on my shoulder, and, for a second, I really hope she doesn’t dribble on the back of my nice suit. I don’t want to have to waste more money on getting it dry cleaned.

Beneath the high beam spotlight that hangs from the ceiling, I click the handcuffs shut and fasten her to the pipe hanging over her head. In her heels, she can barely reach the floor. She looks so vulnerable…

It’s almost enough to make me want to cut her down again. But the big fat dollar signs behind my eyes remind me exactly why cutting her down would be a dumb idea.

“Wha…” After a few moments, Kristen’s head begins to roll around and her eyelids flicker.

I watch her scrunch her eyes and try to force herself to have a clear head.

But there’s no such luck; the roofie I gave her can’t just be washed away with some will power. She’ll be groggy for at least a little while more—and hopefully, that’ll mean that she’s also docile, placid and an all-round ray of sunshine.

We don’t want her scaring anyone off, after all.

“Morning, Princess, how’s your head?”

Kristen cracks one eye open to look at me, and, for one second, it’s piercingly angry, before fading away to mild confusion. But I smirk at her all the same. She can be angry at me all she wants, but this is, kind of, her own fault.

“You…you, jackass.”

“Yeah, that’d be me.” I smile at her and walk a little bit closer.

“That really wasn’t very nice of you.”

“It wasn’t, was it?” I tilt my head to the side as she looks up at me.

I can see the cogs in her mind working overtime to figure out who I am, who I’m working for, and why I’ve done this to her.

“You could have gotten lucky, you know.”

I smile.

“Oh, Kristen, with you looking like that, I’m the luckiest man alive.”

She rolls her eyes—weirdly, she’s totally cool with being hung from the ceiling. No doubt her arms ache to shit, yet…she’s more interested in flirting with me.

No doubt she’s probably trying to get me to lower my guard. And I really can’t blame her for trying.

She’s not as out of it, either, as I was banking on her being. She’s bounced back from the roofie pretty quickly, which is not like any other girl I’ve seen hung up like this. Perhaps Kristen isn’t going to be such an easy mark as I assumed her to be.

I really hope she doesn’t fuck this up for me. Where’s Lawson? How long could that wedding take without either a bride or groom?

“Where am I?”

Her voice calls my attention back to her as I realized I was staring off into the darkness of the warehouse. She’s still squinting under the high intensity spotlight that beam down on her like she’s an angel. Of course, we both know better—if Kristen was such an angel, she wouldn’t be in this little situation in the first place.

“Why, you’re in a warehouse.”

“Hah,” she says flatly. “I bet you think you’re clever.”

“I know that I am. I was smart enough to trick you.”

“Sure, you were.” Kristen lifts her chin a little, smirking at me all the while. “Who says this isn’t exactly where I wanted to be?”

“Oh, you wanted to be hung in a warehouse in front of a strange man?”

“I like assholes. They turn me on.”

Kristen’s staring me dead in the eye, wiggling her hips a little as she says it. She’s challenging me, showing me that she’s not afraid.

She’s a fighter, clearly, and there’s a spirit in there that I know so many men are going to want to see broken. I bet Lawson is going to make a killing after tonight, and while some of the regulars might not show up to see her, Kristen is going to draw in quite the crowd.

And all she’s really doing is silently telling me that she has no idea what she’s gotten herself into by being here, which almost makes me feel for her. I almost feel bad that she doesn’t understand the danger she’s in. But I suppose spoiled little rich girls have to come back down to earth eventually.

If Kristen thinks I’m an asshole now, she should wait and see what Lawson has in store for her. She’s about to fucking hate me.

“Oh, yeah? Then I guess you better get ready to get wet.”