Detained

She burst through the exit but there was no sign of Robert or the security team. He’d disappeared. Then she heard rapid fire Shanghainese. The voice was unmistakable. She ran down the corridor and around a corner. Robert was being held down on his knees by the security goons. Will reared over him with Robert’s camera in his hand. It was all over unless she did something.

They didn’t know she was there, standing side-on to them. She took her phone from her purse and hit record. She shot film of Will as he berated Robert, as he confiscated the camera. She kept filming when Robert was released and stood up, when Will pulled the memory card from Robert’s camera, pocketed it, and shoved the camera back in Robert’s hands.

Robert’s eyes finding hers gave her away. She had enough time to slide the phone into her purse before Will turned.

The anger in him made him look five times taller. Darcy’s muscles clenched. He seemed to tower over her as he came towards her. If he hit her she’d have witnesses. He said something and the two security men melted away.

Robert said, “Darcy,” and Will stopped, slowly pivoted to face him. He said something in Shanghainese and Robert’s head dropped. Will had dismissed him. He left the room without looking at her again.

Darcy took two steps back and found a wall behind her. Will was in front of her. He was breathing heavily. He had eyes of molten black opal. She had nowhere to go to get away from him.

“What did you do to Robert?”

“I took back what belongs to me.”

“What are you going to do to me?”

“The same.”

Darcy’s knees gave way. Will caught her arm, pulled her into his side and walked her down the corridor. At the lift well he pressed the up button. She tried to pull away, but he held her firm, and she didn’t want to make another scene by struggling. She didn’t want to struggle at all.

When the lift arrived, he released her and she stepped over the threshold on her own. She hit the button for her floor and stabbed the close door tab, hoping to trap him outside, but he stopped the closing doors with a shiny dress shoe and followed her in. She backed into the corner of the empty lift, putting as much distance between them as possible. He was scaring the life out of her. Her heart was pounding in her ears. Anticipation coursed through her veins. He was dangerous and she wanted to be his.

He swiped a pass over the indicator for the top floor, the Palace Suite, and the doors closed with a bright ping.

He was on her in a he

artbeat. Caught her shoulders and spun her so her back was tucked in front of him. They faced the mirrored wall of the lift. He took the strap of her dress in his hand and pulled, it tore, making a loud crack. Crystal beads pelted the walls of the lift and Darcy’s held breath exploded from her lungs.

“Will!”

His lips came down on her bare shoulder, his hands came up to palm her breasts. His body shook, from rage, from lust, she didn’t know which. He was kissing her neck, and the heat of his touch turned her insides to fast-running lava. Her knees buckled again, and he took the weight of her in his arms.

The lift pinged, the doors opened and a red-haired man got in. He had a welcoming smile until he saw them, until Will barked, “Get out.” He backed out apologising, a shocked look on his face.

Will’s lips were on her ear, his tongue rimming its rind. Darcy’s head dropped back on his shoulder as pleasure overtook fear, and she understood he was going to punish her by showing her what she’d lost. She understood it would be utterly extraordinary and totally devastating.

The lift pinged again, her floor. She could still escape this torture. She was not his prisoner. But she was his slave. The doors closed. Will tore at the fabric of her dress until her breast in her strapless bra was uncovered. His eyes were black and bleeding desire as he pushed the satin cup down and lifted her breast in his hand, rolling her furled nipple in his fingers. Darcy could not look away from their images in the mirror. Her body was exposed but so was his soul.

When the lift drifted to a stop, Will moved again, taking her hand, knitting their fingers and leading her into the corridor. Trailing behind him, she tried to hold the front of her dress together with her other hand.

“Leave it. I’m going to rip the rest of it off you,” he rasped, his voice thick with tension.

This was reckless and frightening. Shangri-La’s dungeon. It made her body shake and her throat tighten. It was the threat of danger, the promise of pain. It was everything she wanted.

At the door to the suite Will backed her up against the wall, took both her hands and pinned them above her head in one of his. He brought his face close, the tip of his nose trailing over her cheek. She breathed his skin, felt the flutter of his eyelashes, trembled to have him closer still. Darcy twisted in Will’s grip, angling her hips to his. He wrapped his other arm around her back and pinned her to him.

His growl in her ear sent her temperature soaring. “Ask me to stop.” He pulled away to watch her face. She reached for him, her hands chasing over his chest into his hair.

He moved fast, ripping her dress from neckline to hem, scattering crystals and pearls and she almost came, her body jerking from the sound of the fabric shredding and Will’s shuddered breaths. He kissed her then, open-mouthed, sucking sweet and hot and she was annihilated by his need for her.

Breaking off, he pushed the door open, scooped her into his arms and carried her into the suite. At the doorway to the bedroom he paused. “Darcy, ask me to stop while I still can.”

She gripped his chin, made him look at her. “Don’t tell me what to do.”

He threw her on the bed and looked at her with a hunger that made her breath come in sharp, quick pants.

He didn’t undress, though she ripped the studs from his shirt front. He never spoke again.