Ruthless Heart

My mind races. Is there anything I can do or say to keep Teddy safe? There’s probably no hope for me, but damn it, I’m not going to let them get to my brother.

My sense of time is distorted by my lack of sight and rising apprehension, but I don’t think we’ve been driving for long when we come to a stop. The blindfold shifts as I’m pulled from the car, and I get a quick view of a parking garage before it’s adjusted again.

“This is getting old,” I say out loud, clinging to the exasperation I feel. Much better than fear and dread. “All this subterfuge, and for what? You’ve already made it clear, there’s nowhere for me to run to.”

But there’s silence, of course.

One short elevator ride later, we seem to reach our destination. Someone uncuffs me, and whips off the blindfold again.

“Finally,” I sigh, rubbing my wrists, as I look around. I’m in the middle of a huge bedroom suite. The furniture is grey and black, very masculine, with the only pop of color coming from the abstract art on the walls. There’s nothing personal in my eyesight, but the place screams Nero. This has to be his place.

I shiver. As intimidating as the bare office room was, this is daunting in a whole other way. The huge, king-sized bed….

Why am I here?

“Do the amenities meet your standards, Princess?”

I spin around. Nero is in the doorway, watching me. “What’s going on?” I ask, trying to keep the fear from my voice. “Where am I?”

“Where I want you to be.” Nero scowls. “You’ll stay here, where I can keep an eye on you.”

“So, I’m your prisoner,” I say, that knot of fear turning to lead in my stomach.

He strolls closer. “You’re the one who asked to be brought to me, Princess. I could have left you in Vegas.”

“Still breathing?” I retort.

He tilts his head. “Now, that’s the question, isn’t it?”

I swallow hard, uncomfortable under his dark-eyed scrutiny. The feel of his eyes on me prickles at my skin, making my heart race.

Then suddenly, Nero’s gaze darkens. He lunges forwards and yanks at the neckline of my top, pulling it aside. I let out a yelp of shock and fear—but Nero isn’t touching me, he’s staring at my shoulder.

“Who did this to you?” he growls, his whole body coiled with fury.

I gape in confusion—and then catch a sight of my reflection in the mirror on the bureau. A purple bruise is blooming across my skin, raw and ugly.

“Was this Chase?” Nero demands, eyes blazing. “If one of his guys laid a hand on you—”

“You’ll do what?” I shoot back, pulling away and yanking my top up again. “Give him a prize?”

Hurt flashes in Nero’s gaze, but it’s gone so fast, I must have been imagining it. “Tell me who did it,” he growls, stepping close again, towering over me, so he’s all I can see.

All I can feel.

“It was the guy in Vegas,” I blurt, overwhelmed by his presence. “The one you…”

I trail off, remembering the bloodstains on Chase’s clothes.

The one he killed.

Nero seems to relax at my words. He reaches out again, gentle this time, and softly touches the bruised skin. “Does it hurt?”

The concern in his voice takes me by surprise. I swallow again, losing grip on my anger. I shake my head. “It’s fine now,” I whisper, shivering at his touch.

Our eyes lock, and it’s like the years fall away. He’s not my cruel captor, and I’m not desperate to stay alive. We’re just… Us. Drawn together with the same magnetic connection that had me breaking all the rules, and him risking his father’s wrath. Young, and reckless, and so deep in love, I never wanted to come up for air.

Nero’s hand traces higher, up to my jaw, and over my cheek. “You got freckles,” he murmurs, his voice rough and hoarse as he softly strokes over them.