Page 48 of Arrogant and Merciless

When I first woke up after he brought me here, I thought this was a basement. But now I know it’s not. Despite the shadows, I see a bed, a dresser, and also a window covered by fabric or paper so no outside light gets in.

“Taylor, how was your night?” he asks suddenly.

I think he likes scaring me, appearing when I’m off-guard—proving his power over me. From the direction of his voice, he must be sitting on the bed, staying so still I didn’t notice him. I can’t even hear him breathe. It’s as if he’s a ghost.

Let me out of here, jerk, and I’ll show you how my night went by clawing your face off.

“Very well, sir,” I reply, faking respect. “But could I stretch my legs a little? My mother passed away from thrombosis. I don’t want to die like that. I’ve been sitting here like this for so many days.”

The few times he let me out were to use the attached bathroom—and I was blindfolded each time.

“You won’t die. We’ve talked about this, remember? We’re going to get married, but first you need to learn to love me.”

I’m tempted to immediately go along with his delusion, but if he planned out a kidnapping like this, he may be insane but not stupid. If I give in too fast, he’ll suspect something.

“That could take a while,” I say, silently asking forgiveness from William for the lie, because my heart is already his. I push that thought away, refusing to let it weaken me. Right now, William isn’t my strength; he’s my vulnerability. If I think about him, I’ll start crying.

“I know, my love, but we’re not in any rush. And to prove I can be a good man for you, here’s what I’ll do: if you keep behaving so nicely, in three days we’ll go out.”

“How will I know three days have passed?”

“Oh, how careless of me. I was going to give you a present when I came in, but I always get distracted by your beauty.” He slips his gloved hand through the cage bars and shows me a wristwatch.

“Thank you . . .” I say, taking it with feigned hesitance. “What should I call you, sir?”

I hear a huff that might be a laugh, but it’s more sinister. When he finally answers, I feel like throwing up.

“William. You can call me William, my Taylor.”

William

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

Two Weeks Later

“She wouldn’t vanish like this,”I say, pacing back and forth in my office. “I don’t believe that damned message for a second. If Taylor really left, why hasn’t her phone pinged anywhere in the country?”

I see Athanasios and L. J. looking at me, and for the first time, I have no idea what they’re thinking. Do they think I’m crazy? Do they pity me? I don’t care. The only thing I need is to find her.

I’ve hired the best investigators in the country, pulled every contact I have to get a lead, and so far, I’ve hit nothing but dead ends. It’s as if she’s disappeared into thin air.

Bonnie—who lives just one door away—didn’t hear or see anything. In fact, nobody’s laid eyes on Taylor since the night I was there.

Her building’s security is terrible, and it doesn’t have any cameras.

In the first few days, I went over the entire place with my detectives and my security team. They concluded that if she was taken against her will, it must have been through the building’s back door, which leads to a dark alley that—like the main entrance—has no street cameras.

When the police visited Taylor’s apartment to do their forensic work, I couldn’t go in because I’d already acknowledged our relationship, so naturally I was considered a suspect. But when a message arrived from her phone about a week ago, telling Bonnie she’d left to start over somewhere else, they just gave up looking.

“Maybe she doesn’t want to be found, William. There are dozens of ways to counter your argument,” Athanasios says.

“Taylor isn’t a coward—she’s a fighter. If she wanted me to go to hell, she’d say it to my face, not vanish into thin air. She has a life here and no reason to leave it all behind. She didn’t even take any clothes.”

But she took her documents,some voice warns, but I ignore it.

“You don’t actually know her,” L. J. points out. “A single weekend together doesn’t mean a lifetime. There are couples who learn nothing about each other even after years.”

I run both hands through my hair, desperate. It’s like I’m living in a parallel reality where everyone believes a truth I can’t see. Even Bonnie calmly accepted the idea that Taylor might have dropped everything and left, while only my grandmother and one of her friends from the bar—Jackie—agree with me that it doesn’t fit what we know of Taylor.

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