Page 6 of Cruel Master

And only God knows what he has planned to do with me.

“You said you bought me...from the...the...” I swallow, unable to say “dead man” for some reason. “My kidnapper?”

Anger flares in his eyes, and his lips press into a thin line. “He is not your anything. Never let me hear you call another man yours. Never use the pronoun “my” in conjunction with another man. You aremine. You belong tome. No one else. No other man is anything to you, nor will ever be. Do you understand?” His voice cracks at me like a whip, and I recoil from it as it struck.

Although I’m scared out of my mind, I can’t help saying in a shaky voice, “You said you bought me, but the man is dead.” I raise my chin defiantly. “It sounds more like you stole me—just like he did.”

His lips quirk up into a sardonic half-grin. “Just because the man didn’t live long enough to enjoy his payment doesn’t mean that payment wasn’t made, kitten.”

My cheeks heat at the way he calls me kitten. He says it almost like it’s a term of endearment, yet it sounds dangerous at the same time.

“Are you going to murder me too?”

His eyes don't register a bit of surprise with the question, and they never waver from their potent gaze on me. He stares at me for what seems like forever before he finally answers, “No.”

I lick my lips as my heart rate picks up. “What are you going to do with me?” My voice is barely more than a whisper as fear skates up my spine.

“Whatever I damn well please.”

ChapterFour

He leavesthe room after that ominous statement, and it's almost worse than if he had stayed and gone through on his threat because now I'm left to wonder just what it is he's going to do, and I can't help wondering if he did that on purpose. If it's part of his sick torture. If he knew it would drive me crazy and have me all balled up in knots, wondering what he's going to do to me and when.

I know it's pointless, but I can'tnottry. I have to try to find a way out of here.

I slip out of the bed and have to hold onto the nightstand to keep myself from collapsing. My limbs are still shaky. I don't know if it's the aftereffects of whatever drug the first man injected me with or if it's because I'm just that shaken up by this entire experience. It doesn't really matter either way. All that matters is I need to get myself under control so I can find a way out of here.

I close my eyes and take in several deep breaths until I feel my heart rate start to even out.

The first place I head for is the door, but as I expected, it's locked.

I chew on my lip as I look around the room, my heart plummeting when I realize there are no windows in this room at all.

I open the only other door and, unsurprisingly, find a bathroom. It has a large sunken tub and a huge walk-in shower, both of which look big enough to hold ten people. A closer inspection of the tub shows that it's jetted. I’ve been locked up in a prison of luxury.

A quick scan of the walls shows there are no windows in here either. I lay my hands on the marble countertop and look at my pale reflection in the mirror. I’m a redhead and freckle and burn easily, so my skin is naturally pale, but I look like even more of a ghost than usual. My skin seems even starker against my flaming red locks that are usually bouncy and full of life but now look lifeless and drab—the way I feel, like a wilted flower that's been plucked from its happy spot in the sun and shoved into darkness.

I turn on the faucet and let the warm water run over my hands before I wet my face. It doesn't really make me feel better emotionally, but the slight warmth followed by the sudden rush of coolness helps to clear my head.

I walk back out into the main bedroom and make my way around its entire length, looking in every nook and cranny, even getting on my hands and knees and feeling around the floor as if I'm expecting to find some sort of trapdoor or hidden passage that will lead me out of here.

I already know this man is insanely wealthy. He has every resource in the world at his fingertips, so if he wants to trap me, he'll make sure that there's no way for me to get out.

I sit back with my butt perched on my feet, my knees on the floor, and let out a frustrated huff. It looks like I won’t be finding a way out of here tonight.

I can't bring myself to voluntarily get back in the bed, yet I also can’t bring myself to sit in the chair where the monster himself sat, so I settle myself cross-legged on the floor with my back leaning against the wall.

I let my head drop back against the wall with a light thud, and then I stare up at the opulent tray ceiling as hopelessness settles over my limbs.

I’m trapped.

My mind drifts to the mysterious man who bought me. I don't even know his name, and I'm still not entirely sure what he wants with me, though by the way he looks at me, I think I have some idea. I might be a virgin, but I know what happens between men and women. I start trembling when I consider that he might be one of those sickos who gets off on deflowering virgins and making their first time as painful as possible. I've always heard a woman's first time hurts anyway—and that's even with the guy trying to be gentle.

He said he wasn't going to murder me so sex is the only other thing he could want with me. He can't possibly want me for money because he looks like he's got more money than God. And besides, I'm nothing but an orphan scraping by from paycheck to paycheck. It's not like I'm Daddy's little princess who would bring in a hefty ransom if she were kidnapped.

Every fiber of my being revolts at the idea of being taken forcefully. I sit there for a few more moments and ponder my predicament helplessly before my mind drifts back to my little sister. A lump forms in my throat when I think of her all alone, when I think of her turning to the streets, when I think of the desperate measures she might take to survive on her own.

I steel my jaw and stand up with determination. My eyes flit around the room again, looking for anything I can do to try to escape.

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