Who was I kidding? Ten million dollars would change my life, regardless of what it would do to his. My parents might have been loaded, but I’d realised pretty quickly after I turned eighteen that they considered it their money, and that wasn’t going to change until I did something to ‘earn’ it. What exactly that was, I didn’t know. They only made me aware of all the ways in which I’d fallen short… which would have been a lot more useful to me if they hadn’t started doing it after they let me slack off on my schooling for years and then finally drop out. Before then, they didn’t seem to care, which made it sort of hard for me to care. Even now, they were probably more likely to figure out something was wrong when they checked the security system remotely as opposed to actually trying to call me.
Devin had a big damn point: if my parents did get themselves killed by someone they owed money to, say, it was entirely likely there was either no money left to be had… or that once the houses and cars and my mother’s earrings and necklaces had been sold off to make things balance, it would turn out they hadn’t even included me in their will. As their daughter I’d probably prove entitled to that money anyway… but how fucking degrading to have to fight for it.
My eyes were filling with tears for the first time in hours, and it had very little to do with being kidnapped.
I couldn’t let myself wonder about this. I had to get dressed into these clothes without thinking too much about how Devin could possibly have even gotten the right size of bra and panties for me, let alone how he would then already know what bra and panties I was wearing, and then…
I became fixed in my decisions as I began to look more put-together in the mirror, moving from changing my clothes to combing out my hair, washing my face, and making a point of trying a little of all the very expensive still-wrapped cosmetics in the package Devin had put together for me. If this man who had violated my sense of safety wanted me to agree to marry him to make a point to my parents… well, maybe they deserved that. But he was going to have to really work to convince me that was something I wanted to go along with.
Chapter Five
“I have a feeling you’re not against a bit of bondage play,” I said as soon as I opened the door to the bedroom. I’d decided I was going to be the one to come and find him. I needed to hold my own as much as possible still, and this seemed like one way to do it without getting him angry at me.
Devin looked up from the little card table he was sitting at, and slipped the black book he’d been examining into his shirt pocket. “Why is that?”
For a moment I couldn’t reply, distracted by how ridiculously out of place he looked at that table in his sleek suit.
Well actually, he looked out of place in the entire scenario. Everything here was very plain and homey, a bit like one of those caravan sets on old episodes of Home and Away, not the sort of scene a multi-millionaire would tolerate even on holiday. It was a bit too downmarket even for me.
I forced myself to get back to the point. “These.” I raised one foot and wiggled it at the ankle. I was surprised the contraption attached to it, a shoe consisting mostly of straps, stayed in place.
Watching me wrung a tiny bit of amusement out of him, which only added to my aggravation. He didn’t even bother denying my assertion. “I suppose you would have to actually be going to relatively prestigious events to find a use for a nice pair of heels.”
“I wouldn’t wear them no matter where I had to go,” I told him. At home, I liked to use a well-worn pair of ballet flats so I could move around the house silently. If I had to leave the house, a pair of fashion sneakers achieved the same effect—as well as looking adorable paired with a well-fitting T-shirt and skirt. Men found it hard to resist the combination of cuteness and the suggestion of being down-to-earth in a young woman. I did have a pair of sensible heels—no more than an inch, not these giraffe monstrosities—I occasionally pulled out for parties and the like, but in the past year I’d maybe used them once when my parents took me out for my birthday. I couldn’t even think where they were at present.
Devin was giving me that thoughtful look again. “I hope you’re going to get used to wearing these ones by tonight. We’re going out. Somewhere nice.”
I stalked over, grabbed the second chair from the table, dragged it over to the door and sat down in it. “The only place we are going together from here is back to my home.”
Devin’s look was pitying. “There’s no point in my taking you directly home, Julia. Even if it were an appropriate time to call your parents, they’re not going to be getting back for days. Far better to stay with me until they return, gather a bit more information about what you’d be signing up for.”
“Let myself be persuaded to do whatever you want, you mean.”
“It wouldn’t hurt if y
ou did, Julia.”
“That completely remains to be seen,” I couldn’t help shooting back at him, which got an amused noise but not the sort of fire I’d hoped for. Devin got up with leisurely movements, waiting until he was completely upright to check his watch.
“Well, it’s a good thing you’re ready. We’re going to have to get in the car right away to make it in time for our reservation. You’ll still be a little underdressed, but when you look like that I doubt there’ll be any objections.”
I just frowned at him, even though it was pretty obvious from previous context where this conversation was going. “Oh,” said Devin, pretty blatantly playing innocent, “I booked us in at the revolving restaurant in the city. I would have consulted you, but you seemed in quite a state earlier, and I don’t like to be so impolite as to impose myself upon the staff at a late date, even though I know they are not going to refuse me.”
I was sitting down with my hands on my hips. “And you don’t have any personal knowledge of the venues that are out there anyway,” Devin added.
I’d been out of my room for less than five minutes, and I’d had enough. I maintained eye contact with him as I leaned forward to fiddle with one of my shoes, finally got it unbuckled with a struggle, and threw it at him with some force.
I stiffened in my chair as I realised the thing was flying further than I planned. I’d just wanted to land it at his feet, make a smug little point… but he had to take a quick step backwards to avoid it actually landing on his feet.
“Sorry,” I muttered, feeling really stupid now in my nice clothing and one strappy shoe. “But I’m really sick of you—”
“Damn fucking right you’re sorry.” Devin’s face hadn’t changed much, but I realised I could tell he was angry. There were feelings buried under that strangely innocent poker face, maybe even more so when he didn’t reveal a lot. There was an interesting thought. “If I’m going to treat you well, I expect you to show me basic respect. If you’ve got a problem with something I’m doing, use words and not some petty little show of violence. Because maybe I don’t want to even fucking pretend to marry a woman like that… and maybe you’re not going to like the consequences if that offer is taken off the table.”
“I really am sorry. I didn’t mean to actually…” He was starting to look amused again. I didn’t know exactly what had kept him from retaliating as he’d threatened earlier, but maybe it was better for me to try to move the conversation away from the actual incident. “If you want me to go along with anything for you without fighting the whole way, I need you to stop making those cracks about how I never leave my house. If you’ve really been watching me you know it’s not true, for a start, but then it just really bothers me to think that you’ve been watching me. So it’s not getting you anything you want.”
“Getting you in a little temper is exactly what I want.” Devin scooped up my tossed shoe. I froze as he knelt at my feet. I wanted to back the hell out of there, but of course that was probably exactly what he wanted too. He didn’t have to use all of his threatening force to keep me in line, and he was happy for me to realise it.
I tried not to wiggle my toes in nervousness as he took my bare foot in his hands, running one smooth fingertip along the edge of a scratch I’d picked up in the fuss the night before. I never would have thought that socks would seem like a necessity to keep me feeling safe.