Immediately, I smell the same expensive cologne as it wafts in the air before I even see the men emerging from the corner of the kitchen area. When they round the corner, I see it’s the same two men from earlier this morning, and I feel my heart beat in my throat.
I watch as Green Eyes flips on a light switch located on the wall, and he hangs back with what I hope is a tray of food. I haven’t eaten all day, I was beginning to feel hungry, but felt I couldn’t swallow anything earlier because of my wounded throat. The other man sauntered near, stopping next to me alongside the bed. He’s wearing an expensive ensemble of black dress pants; a dark purple, long-sleeved dress shirt; and a matching silk tie, all ironed to perfection. I scan over him curiously and notice his black shoes are even flawlessly shined. He screams of wealth and power. I swallow hard, causing me to grimace. He looks awfully young to exude such a persona. I’d venture to say he’s in his early thirties.
I watch his every move with baited breath, ready to bury myself deeper under the covers. He places both hands in his front pockets and rocks back on his heels, giving me a devilish grin. I don’t like the expression, not at all. Cocking his head to the side, he begins to study me. Well, all he can study, really, is my head poking out from under the covers. The movement causes his dark-brown hair to shift from its style, and I watch it fall across his forehead in a sultry way. Arrogant prick.
This man in front of me is definitely a strong and an attractive man; I’ll give him that. He’s well-built, like he hits the gym daily, not showing one ounce of fat on his hard body. I can tell he has a solid chest and bulging biceps under his expensive, dark shirt. His skin is a clear and healthy olive complexion. His very presence seems to reek of authority and arrogance. He knows he’s good-looking, and I have always hated that type of mannerism in a man.
“Hello, Princess; my name is Nick.” Even his voice exudes deep, rich, masculine power that demands your attention. He pauses a moment, staring me down. “Are you feeling better, now?” I timidly nod my head yes, afraid to speak.
“I’m glad to hear that. I was a little concerned to find you so abused this morning, my apologies.” I shift my eyes between the two men. Are they for real? He’s sorry about me getting hurt in a scuffle that he most likely created? My mouth’s connection to my brain has checked out for lunch, leaving me speechless. What does he want me to say? ‘Oh, that’s okay; it was my fault for struggling in the first place.’
“I wanted to let you know I properly dealt with the animal who mistreated you. You didn’t deserve that.” He’s right; I didn’t deserve that, among a lot of other things that happened last night, namely being ripped from my home.
Nodding his head to the side, he acknowledges the man with him. “This man here is Travis. Travis is my right-hand man, and I have instructed him to be your personal trainer over the next month or so.” He takes a slight pause in his introduction as he gives me an evil grin, making me shudder.
I dig down deep within, searching for my voice. I have never been so scared in all my life, but I know knowledge is power. I’m not sure I want to know the answer, but I ask the most obvious question anyway. I clear my throat and ask in a meek voice, “A personal trainer for what?”
He looks pleased I’ve started conversing. “Travis is a renowned trainer in the field of…” he swirls his hand in the air, searching for the proper terminology, “…shall we say, creating deep desires of many avenues.” Confusion, I know, crosses over my features, which seems to delightfully entertain Nick. I watch the man’s professional demeanor change before my very eyes. He relaxes and beams the most buoyant and bright smile. The man is damn beautiful; his smile just changed his looks rating from a nine to a twelve-point-oh.
“You and Travis are going to spend a fair amount of intimate time together. He will train you with baby steps for a month or two before we move you on to...bigger things.” He exaggerates the last words with a brief snigger, alluding to his own private joke.
I’m not sure I want to be in on that private joke, like, at all. But really, what the hell? Is this for real? There’s got to be a friggin’ hidden camera. My eyes narrow, trying to make heads or tails out of Nick, and I believe the man is truly serious. Of course, who expects to be captured by criminals believing they will treat their captives with kindness and respect? This isn’t a holiday vacation, Jules. Get real. All of a sudden, my curiosity about this man wanes, and instead, I find myself glaring daggers at him.