For a heartbeat I’m so terrified I do nothing. Then quickly realizing my mistake, I start to rapidly nod my head.

I’ll be a good girl. I’ll be so good, I try to mentally project to him.

I’ll do anything to make it home to Abigail.

His hand reaches the apex of my thigh and then there’s a pressure. Oh god… Does he want me to spread for him?

“If you do everything you’re told,” he growls and pushes harder, forcing me to open my legs for him. “I just might be able to get you out of this.”

Might?! He might be able to get me out of this?

Once again I start to pant, my own hot little breaths hitting the bag.

His fingers move and then I feel them brushing against my panties. I freeze.

“Would be such a shame…” he mutters and then his hand pulls away.

The tension breaks and my lungs pull in much needed air. Before I can think too much about what he just said, or did for that matter, my arm is grabbed and I’m pulled out of the vehicle.

Stumbling, I try to get my bearings.

The cool air hits me and I shiver, straightening. Fingers tighten around my arm, pulling me forward.

My heels dig into gravel and I’m grateful for the firm grip that guides me. The small rocks cause me to slip and slide a bit.

More than a couple of times I almost fall on my ass.

After a few minutes, we step inside a building, shielded from the biting wind.

No longer focusing all of my attention on trying to prevent a twisted ankle, I realize there was a conversation going on that just ended abruptly.

Because of me?

All at once my hackles rise and my chest constricts with panic.

I can’t see them but I can feel them. The monsters in the darkness…

A door slams behind me and I nearly jump out of my skin.

The grip around my arm tightens, nudging me forward, then digs in deep when I don’t budge.

I’m too frightened to keep moving.

My heels are trying to dig into the smooth floor while alarm bells go off inside my head.

“Be a good girl,” the deep voice from earlier hisses as he drags me forward.

I’m already fucking up, I quickly realize. How the hell am I going to make it through this?

The fingers around my arm loosen and then I’m pushed backward, stumbling before I land on a chair.

Rattled, I shake my head a little and then my arms are yanked behind my back. My wrists slam together, and something is wrapped around them. Tightly binding them.

It all happens so quick, it’s so damn efficient… they must have a lot of practice at this…

Beside me, someone groans in agony and it takes me a moment to realize it’s Ivan.

Suddenly, the bag is yanked off my head and my eyes blur with tears as they adjust to the bright spotlight beaming down on me. I blink quickly to clear them.

Standing in front of me, with a smirk tugging at his lips, is the most beautiful man I’ve ever laid eyes on.

He’s so beautiful, so unreal and ethereal, at first I think he must be a figment of my imagination. Blonde hair and blue eyes. Features so perfect I can find no flaw in them. The light seems to caress his glowing skin, but the longer and longer I look at him, the more I feel distressed.

He’s too perfect… almost angelic.

But no angel would be in a place like this.

My eyes start to shy away from the beautiful man but then he steps forward, grabs a lock of my hair, and lifts it.

The smirk on his lips sharpens and he glances to my left.

I look over and gasp behind the tape covering my mouth. Ivan has been tied to a chair beside me, but his face is messed up. His right eye is swollen closed and his nose looks broken, bent crooked. And there’s dried blood caking his nostrils and the tape covering his mouth.

“I could have sworn your wife was a blonde, Ivan,” the beautiful man says with some amusement as his fingers rub my hair thoughtfully before dropping it.

Wife? Ivan is married?

You’ve got to be fucking kidding me…

My eyes narrow angrily at Ivan and the beautiful man tips his head back and laughs.

I ignore him, my anger momentarily overriding my good sense as his words repeat inside of my head.

All this time. All this fucking time Ivan has been pursuing me—stalking me and trying to control me—he’s been married?!

Buying me things… Taking me out… Trying to sleep with me… When he already has a wife at home?

And he never mentioned it. No, I would have remembered that. I would have ended it immediately.

I wouldn’t even be in this mess.

Fuck.

He’s made me the other woman.

My stomach twists painfully and I feel like getting sick.

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