Waking up, I blink against the bright light streaming into the room.
Weird.
It takes a moment before I realize nothing is familiar.
No dimly lit basement.
No sounds of snoring from the other staff.
It’s quiet.
Once my vision focuses, I glance around the room, taking in the cream bedding with an embroidered flower pattern. Cream curtains. A high-back chair in the corner.
Everything looks soft, warm, and luxurious.
Again I glance at the bed as I try to pull myself into a sitting position, then, all at once, everything floods back.
The pain from the whipping.
The attack on the mansion.
Panic rockets through me, my skin turning ice cold. My breathing speeds up, my eyes wildly darting around me.
My body protests when I try to sit up again, a deep ache in my stomach stopping me. Noticing the IV inserted into the back of my hand, my eyes widen even more.
God. Where am I?
Just as I remember I was shot, a man appears in the doorway. His black cargo pants and shirt are the same as the ones Tymon’s guards wear. With no expression on his face, he mutters, “You’re up.”
Nervously, my tongue darts out to wet my dry lips. “Where am I?”
“You’ll find out soon enough.” He disappears again.
Oh, God.
This time I clench my teeth against the pain, and I manage to sit up. Sliding my legs from the bed, I sag against the side of the mattress when I try to stand. I’m wearing only a white nightgown that reaches to my feet.
Come on, Lara. You have to move faster.
With my heart pounding in my chest and zero strength in my legs, I don’t even make it halfway to the door before dropping to the carpet, the IV stand toppling beside me.
No. Get up!
The pain becomes so intense it feels like something is trying to claw its way out of my stomach.
You’re okay.
You can do this.
You’re okay.
You’ve survived worse.
My head snaps up when I hear murmuring voices, then another man appears in the doorway. Unlike the guard, who’s dressed all in black, this man is wearing an expensive charcoal-colored, three-piece suit.
It takes a couple of seconds before I recognize him.
The rude man from the restaurant.
I can’t remember his name.
“Finally,” he mutters, already looking annoyed with me. “Unless you plan on crawling out of here, I suggest you get back in the bed.”
Apprehension tightens my muscles, increasing the pain. “Will you even let me crawl out of here?”
His eyes narrow on me, then slowly, he tilts his head. “No.”
Dear God.
“Why?” I wet my lips again, frustration swirling in my chest because I’m not even strong enough to crawl out of here. “Why am I here?” I shake my head as my fear darkens into a powerless feeling. “How did I get here?”
The man glances down the hallway, then talks to someone I can’t see, authority lacing his words. “Get the woman back in the bed. Secure her.”
“Yes, boss.”
Boss?
Crap.
Oh. Crap!
The guard comes back into the room, then I’m hauled up into the air and placed back on the bed, nauseating waves of pain rippling through me.
Sweat beads on my skin, an exhausted tremor shuddering through my body. I have no strength to stop the guard from clamping a shackle around my ankle. The chain rattles as it settles, hanging down the side of the bed. I didn’t even notice it was lying beneath the bed.
What is going on?
Panic steals the last warmth from my body, leaving me a shivering mess.
“Why are you doing this?” I ask weakly, my fear drenching my words.
The boss stares at me, and just as it starts to feel like he’s trying to cut me in half with his piercing gaze, he says, “You work for Mazur.”
A slight frown forms on my forehead. “Yes?”
He waves a hand over the length of me. “You got shot during the attack. I saved you, and in return, you’ll answer all my questions.”
My frown deepens, and hesitantly I ask, “Did you attack the mansion?”
He nods before taking a seat on the high-back chair, making the thing look like a throne. The guard leaves the room, pulling the door shut behind him.
One less man to deal with.
My eyes settle back on the boss, the fact that he is responsible for the attack on the mansion making me absolutely terrified of him.
“I got shot because of you,” I breathe, quickly realizing this man is Tymon’s enemy, and by default, it means he’ll view me as his enemy as well.
My heart thumps rapidly in my chest, my mouth growing dryer than the desert.
Panicking, I ramble, “I’m just a maid. I know nothing about Mr. Mazur’s business dealings. I–”
He cuts me off, his tone brutally harsh, “It’s quite the coincidence that you bumped into me at Aqua the same day I was planning to attack.”
What?
My lips part, my frown deepening.
Aqua?
Then I remember, and my eyes widen. Quickly, I exclaim, “I don’t know who you are.”
His lion-like eyes lock with mine, and instantly I feel like prey that’s a second away from being torn apart.
God. Help me.
The corner of his mouth twitches, making my heartbeat hammer crazily against my ribs. More sweat coats my skin, prickles of fear rippling through me.
“I’m Gabriel Demir.” I’ve never heard the name before. “Head of the Turkish mafia.”
Pins and needles turn me into a block of ice. My lips part, then my heart sinks to the deepest pits of hell.
I won’t get out of this alive.
Slowly, I inhale a shocked breath, the gasp clearly audible.
His eyes narrow again as he takes in my shocked reaction. “Why were you at Aqua? Were you sent to spy on me?”
My head starts to shake, my hair tossing wildly over my shoulders. “I wasn’t there… to spy on you. I was at Aqua to get dinner… for Mr. Mazur. You saw the food… it splattered all over the sidewalk.” My fear tightens my voice.
Again, Gabriel stares at me until shallow breaths rush over my lips with terror.
He doesn’t believe me.
“I swear,” I exclaim, “I was only there to get an order of seafood for Mr. Mazur.”
I even got whipped. The proof is on my back.
Something stops me from showing the marks on my skin to this man.
He wouldn’t care.
The predatory look in his eyes and the dangerous aura around him tell me as much.
As soon as this man is sure there’s no information to gain from me, he’ll kill me.
My silence might be all that can keep me alive. Not that I have any information to share.
I just need to buy myself time until I’m stronger.
Slowly, Gabriel shakes his head, and as if he can read my thoughts, he warns, “Don’t try to lie to me. I know many creative ways to make someone talk.”
Torture.
God.
Again, pins and needles spread over me, reminding me I’m still shaking like a leaf in a hurricane-force wind.
My eyes flick to the shackle around my ankle.
I’ve survived so much, but how will I escape this nightmare?
Slowly, my gaze lifts to meet Gabriel’s, then he asks, “What’s your name?”
I swallow hard on my fear before answering, “Lara… Lara Nowak.”
“How long have you worked for Mazur?”
“Since I was twelve.”
His head tilts slightly, and I’m not sure if he believes me because I can’t get a read on him. All I can say for sure is he’s dangerous, and I’m in a world of trouble.
With Tymon, I knew what to expect. I grew used to the punishments.
But with Gabriel, I have no idea what he’s capable of doing. Beatings I can handle. Wounds and broken bones heal.
What if…
Oh, God.
My cheeks go numb, a lump forming in my throat.
I’m a virgin. Tymon never allowed relationships between staff, not that it mattered because I’m too plain looking. It was my one saving grace. No one showed any interest in me.
Instinctively I scoot as far back on the bed as I can go. “Please don’t hurt me,” the feeble plea falls over my lips. “I’m just a maid.”
Still, Gabriel only stares at me, putting the fear of God in me.
“Where would Mazur go to hide?”
A wave of dizziness hits, making dots dance before my vision. I’m not used to all the emotions spiraling through me.
With Tymon, everything was a routine. One I grew accustomed to since birth.
Being in the hands of the enemy, not able to anticipate his next move, is nerve-wracking as hell.
“He has homes all over the world.” I swallow hard, wishing I could have some water. “I have no idea which one he’d run to,” I admit, still unsure whether remaining silent would be the best option.
Gabriel’s eyebrow lifts. “Where are these houses? Give me addresses.”
The fact that he thinks a mere maid would know the actual addresses almost makes a cynical burst of laughter leave me. “I’m just a maid,” I tell him again. “I didn’t have access to that kind of information.”
Again he’s eyes narrow on me. “Yet, you know he has many properties? You’re contradicting yourself.”
Crap.
Gabriel stands up, the movement sending a fresh wave of debilitating fear through me. Unable to stop myself, my chin starts to tremble, tears threatening to fall.
Don’t cry.
Lifting a hand to his chin, he swipes the pad of his thumb over his bottom lip, his gaze still resting intensely on me. “You have three days to decide whether you’ll tell me everything you know or face the consequences.”
What kind of consequences?
Gabriel inhales deeply as if he’s savoring the scent of my fear. “A word of advice.” He starts to walk out of the room. “I’d talk if I were you.”
The words sound ominous, causing my stomach to burn from all the fear and tension.
The bedroom door is drawn shut behind him, then I’m left alone.
What am I going to do?
How in God’s name am I going to get out of this alive?
