Page 16 of His Dark Purpose

It took a while longer for her to acknowledge notwhereshe was—she was clearly stretched out on a bed, and she could feel the mattress supporting her body—buthowher body was positioned. Sprawled in a starfish shape, she appeared to be spread-eagled, the reality sending warning alarms to her rational head.

Tugging at both hands, she tried to withdraw and roll into a ball, but to her horror, neither of her wrists cooperated, prohibited, it seemed, by something hard wrapped around her skin.

Metal.

In that one second, the enormity of what had transpired before she’d awoken crashed down over her, spiraling anger and sadness in equal measure.

She remembered him, recalled how he’d helped and how she’d fallen in love with him, and then, how discovering that one file had changed everything.

“Kyle.” She whispered his name, her brows knitting.

He’d wanted to talk, telling her his version of the truth by revealing he’d been prepared to fuck her as payment for her family’s rent. She still couldn’t believe he’d found that premise acceptable, let alone proposed it to Graham. She was normally in favor of sincerity, but as it turned out, she really hadn’t been ready to hear that news.

The fact he was prepared to take someone else’s wife as collateral for a tenancy agreement was horrifying.

What did that say about him—about his scruples—and critically, where did that leave the relationship she’d thought they’d enjoyed?

“Oh God.” She sniffed back the threatening tears, unwilling to cry anymore for him, yet unable to wipe them away.

The room had fallen into shadow, making it difficult for her to see, but a quick tug of her ankles revealed the same problem as her hands—something was holding her down to the bed.

His bed.

She didn’t know it was his bed for sure, but that had been where she was when she’d collapsed, so it seemed logical that was where he’d put her afterward, and the harder she thought about her predicament, the more obvious the solution seemed.

I’m back in his handcuffs.

Kyle had used cuffs to restrain her before, so what were the chances he’d garnered multiple pairs to cuff her to his bed then? Fury resurfaced as that fate settled over her.

Wherever he’d left her, she was spread-eagled, vulnerable, and unable to move.

A tiny mewl escaped her throat as she acknowledged just how entirely at his mercy she was.

“Are you ready to talk now?” His voice floated from somewhere beyond the bed, jolting her from her woeful internal monologue.

“You’re there?” She leaned up as far as her tired neck muscles allowed, but she couldn’t make him out in the half-light.

Why would he be sitting there in virtual darkness?

“Yes, I’m here.” His reply was a sigh. “I’ve been here the whole time, little girl. I wouldn’t leave you.”

Scowling at the way he still insisted on calling her his little girl, she swallowed back the urge to counter the issue again. Butting heads with him on such a trivial matter wouldn’t help her cause. Somehow, she needed to persuade him to release her.

“Why am I bound, s—” She hesitated, tripping over the word she knew he wanted to hear. Would she send the wrong message if she deferred to him again, or was it the only sensible way to proceed? “Sir?”

There, I’ve said it.

Squeezing her eyes closed, she tried to ignore the thrum of repugnance simmering in her chest. She might notwantto call him sir, but she’d do whatever she had to do to get the hell out of there.

“I had to keep you safe.”

He sounded so matter-of-fact, as if handcuffing women to his bed was a normal venture. A dark chill raced along her back as she contemplated the fact that maybe, for him, it was.

What did she know about him, after all?

Aside from the persona he’d put on for her benefit, she knew practically nothing about his past, and the precious little she had found out had unraveled into her current dilemma.

“Thank you.” She couldn’t believe she was actually offering thanks to the bastard. “But I can’t move.”

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