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Sitting up, I take in my surroundings. I’m on a comfortable bed. When I swing to the side to press my trouser socks on the floor, I meet plush carpeting. The furniture is marble topped and the drapes lush. It’s a spacious room with high ceilings and a large window looking out at the ocean’s skyline. A residual pink glow dancing over the waves tells me it’s just after sunset.
It’s a gorgeous backdrop to my ugly reality. I am alone, held against my will by a man whose identity and intentions are a mystery.
Does he intend to hurt me? Or use me for ransom money? Is this about the shipyard itself? Perhaps he’s a competitor who wants to derail our shipbuilding progress. But why would he involve my father after taking me? Is the rest of my family safe?
Oh my god, the twins! For the first time since I’ve been abducted, I let myself feel the panic clenching in my heart.
Bryce. What is this chaos doing to Bryce, who is sure to blame himself?
And his agents. Are they alive? Oh my god, the people at the shipyard! A sob bubbles up my parched throat.
If I didn’t make that spontaneous decision to change my schedule, none of this would have happened. If I went home straight from the office, the way Bryce ordered me to, I wouldn’t have endangered my bodyguards and innocent employees.
Anger pushes me to my feet. Bad move, since my vision clouds over again, threatening to throw me back into unconsciousness. I shake my head and force a step. The double doors, which I assume lead to a sitting area, are locked. There are two other doors. I test them, finding an empty closet behind one and a bathroom beyond the other.
The bathroom has a deep soaking tub, a large shower, and mirrors that automatically light up when I enter. The floors are heated. Locking myself inside, I relieve myself and gather my thoughts.
The mirror reveals a disheveled woman with wild hair and pale cheeks. I wash my face, scrubbing the smeared makeup and dried blood. My mouth is sore, a wound under my upper lip swollen. Pressing a finger on the injection site on my neck, I wince at the tenderness. But these are all physical discomforts that will ease with time.
Worse than any physical pain is the uncertainty and the fear.
Why am I here? How do I get out of this situation without risking anybody else’s safety? Who is that man who spoke so derisively, like his hate for me was personal? And what does he want from my father?
Everything depends on understanding the person who abducted me.
Tucking my shirt in and straightening my jacket like I’m about to make a business proposal, I stomp to the double door and bash it with the side of my fist. Bang, bang, bang.
I pause to listen for what is awaiting me outside. There’s the sound of movement, but then it’s gone.
Bang, bang, bang. I repeat my urgent fist bashing.
“Talk to me you goddamn coward! Are you scared that—”
The door swings open.
Being tall and lean are the man’s most defining features. Maybe in his late thirties or early forties, there’s nothing else particularly distinct about him. His thick brown hair, clear brown eyes, and high cheekbones are common in that placid American boy-next-door way. That’s probably why I thought he looked familiar. He’s everyman, but with an expensive suit and mysterious plans. And, most likely, bad intentions. That’s clear when his mouth takes the shape of a mean sneer.
“Everyone speaks so highly of your poise and manners, Anastasia. How unfortunate to find that you’re such a rude guest.”
“Guest? Do you poison all your guests? Haul them around while they’re unconscious?” I snap.
He shrugs. “Would you have come willingly?”
“Why don’t you tell me who you are, and I’ll answer your question.”
“Call me Mr. Turner.”
“Well, Mr. Turner, I actually believe I would have willingly met you had you not bombed my shipyard, endangered my friends, and trapped me against my will.”
“I should have asked nicely, is that it?”
“What do you want?” I wail. “Say it like a fucking man instead of hiding behind the woman you kidnapped.”
“The only one who’s hiding is your father.”
“Fuck you. Leave him out of it. Whatever you want, I’ll get it for you. There’s no need to involve him.”
“Of course he’s involved. Nikolay Petrov must return to the US to meet with me. Honestly, I thought the influx of threats to you would be enough to draw him out, since you’re the only person he seems to give a shit about. Turns out your safety is something he’s willing to hire someone else to worry about.”
