Chapter 3

Three

ECHO

My arms ache where that blonde asshole hung my wrists to some glorified meat hook. My feet barely touch the ground, and the pins and needles are starting to become a real pain in my ass. My shoes have gone and I swear to God, if they’re ruined, someone is going to lose a fucking hand.

I knew I shouldn’t have gone out, shouldn’t have left my pretty little gilded cage, but I was climbing the walls. All my life I’ve been hidden away, like some dirty little secret, and my dad wasn’t even in the country. I’d been shipped off to some country manor, in the middle of fucking nowhere, left to rot away from the Family Business. I’m not stupid. I know what my father and brothers get up to, and part of me understands why I’ve been kept away, but another part really wishes I could join in.

It’s like an urge. An impulse. A sheer fucking need to cause damage and drama. Like breaking that guy’s nose. I really should have thought about that before swinging. I certainly wouldn’t be hung from a meat hook if I had.

But what can you do? Hindsight really is a merciless bitch.

The groan of a metal door sounds behind me, and footsteps reverberate off the concrete floor. I can’t see much, thanks to the single shaft of light I’m suspended in. Beyond that are shadows and loose shapes that I’d really rather not have clarity over.

The expensive sounding shoes stop directly behind me, and I can feel him at my back. I take a deep breath through my nose, since the tape still covers my mouth, and count to ten. Not that it does anything to calm my heart down. The thing is going like the clappers.

“I should be pissed you broke my nose.”

His voice is just as smoky as I remember. A deep rumble that has my core clenching. I should be terrified, but there must be something wrong with me because I’m the complete opposite.

“But no one has ever broken my nose before.” He steps around me, walking until he faces me but stays just beyond the light. “It’s actually kind of amusing.”

Well whoop-de-fucking-do. Aren’t I the lucky one? Let me go and shout it from the rooftops. Oh. Wait. I can’t do that because someone’s got me gagged and hung from the fucking ceiling!

“Stare daggers at me all you want, princess. You’re staying there until I decide what to do with you.”

He takes a step towards me, and I get another eyeful of my handiwork. Black circles sit beneath his eyes and a little white steri-strip sits on the bridge of his nose.

The twins would be proud of me. They had a real penchant and love of violence too.

The guy’s still as handsome as fuck, maybe even more so now he’s a little damaged. He’s in a fresh white shirt, sleeves rolled up revealing drool-worthy forearms. Dark lines and shapes cover his skin and I’m curious to know what tattoos he’s got. If his forearms are covered, I bet he’s got more ink hidden beneath that expensive white cotton.

His face is sharp with a square jaw and angled cheekbones but there’s an amusement there that wasn’t in his expression when we first met. Which makes him more attractive. Fucking bastard.

I wonder what he’s like in bed.

Feral, probably, judging by the wicked gleam in his eye.

I’d bet he’d pound me into the mattress and leave my body broken and ruined for other men.

My core clenches at the thought and he must see something in my face because he steps even closer. So close, I can almost feel his chest against my rapidly hardening nipples.

He reaches his hand out and brushes a lock of my hair away from my face. “You don’t look like your father. It’s why I didn’t recognise you.”

His finger traces the curve of my ear and trails down my neck, stopping over my pulse point.

A hum that sounds more like a moan, flitters through the room.

“Your heart is racing, princess.”

Yeah, I fucking know.

“Are you scared?” he asks, an excited thrum vibrating through his words. He leans closer, his mouth inches from the tape across mine, and he drops his voice to a dark whisper. “Or are you so turned on you’d let me finger fuck your wet cunt right now.”

I can’t help it. The moan escapes before I can will it back down to the hidden depths from where it came.

He brushes his nose along my cheekbone, and I try to pull away but there’s not really anywhere to go when you can’t move far.

“Ah, ah,” he says as he wraps his large hand around my throat, holding me in place. “There’s no escape for you.”

I lift my knee, aiming for his dick, but he blocks it easily. I try again and again but it’s fucking useless, and he just stands there, laughing at me. Tears of impotence form at the corners of my eyes and I hate myself for it. I will not shed tears for this man.

He brushes one of my tears away with his thumb. “So pretty when you cry.”

Then he grips the edge of the tape and rips it off.

“Jesus fucking dickbag!” I seethe. That hurt .

He pats the side of my face carelessly. “Such crassness from such a beautiful mouth.”

“Fuck you!”

He chuckles, a deep rasp I feel all the way to my toes. “I’m not into that.”

I lick my lips and wince at the sting. There’s a tang of blood against my tongue and I know he’s ripped some skin off with the tape.

He disappears for a moment then comes back with a bottle of water. He opens it and lifts it to my lips.

I pull back. “How do I know it isn’t poisoned?”

“And why would I kill you, Echo?”

My name in his mouth sounds sinful and a shiver leaves goosebumps along my skin.

“For fun?”

He laughs. Full blown deep belly laughs. “Oh, Echo. Killing you wouldn’t be fun. It would be pointless.” His hand grips my chin. “Playing with you on the other hand…”

He sweeps his thumb across my bottom lip, wiping away the blood. Then he sucks that ignominious digit into his mouth, and I swear his eyes brighten. Jesus this guy is something else.

And I fucking like it.

He takes a drink from the bottle and swallows. “See. Harmless.”

“That’s the last word I’d use to describe anything about you.”

He grins, and it’s unsettling. Like a lion playing pliant for its food. He takes another drink and walks closer.

“What are you doing?” I ask, the panic raising my heart rate again.

He doesn’t say anything but sinks his fingers into the hollows of my cheeks, forcing my mouth open wide. I fight against my restraints, but he towers over me. He leans closer until his mouth hovers over mine and then he parts his lips, letting the water trickle into my mouth.

I instinctively swallow and I’m at once grateful for the relief. The cool liquid soothes my dry mouth and I lick my lips, trying to moisten them but there isn’t enough water left.

The guy cocks an eyebrow like he knows exactly what I’m needing. “More?”

“Yes.”

“Yes, what?”

“Please,” I say through gritted teeth and Jesus fuck I want to break his nose all over again.

“Good girl,” he coos and something inside me preens with the praise.

I expect him to pour the drink directly into my mouth, but he repeats the same process as before. Taking a mouthful and then letting it flow from his mouth to mine. I swear his lips get closer every time he does it, until he’s merely a hair's breadth away from kissing me and God, I want it. Which is insane . The guy fucking kidnapped me, and I’m chained to the ceiling. In no way should I want this guy but my pussy is dripping. He’s so close I can feel his body heat, smell his cologne and fuck, I want to bury my nose in the crook of his neck and slide my tongue over his skin just to see what he tastes like.

The snick of a switchblade opening breaks my wandering mind and a flash of light catches on the wicked looking blade.

“What are you doing?” I ask, my eyes fixed on the blade.

“Having fun.” He places the tip of the blade against the hollow of my throat and drags the blade slowly over me. It’s cool against my heated skin as it trails towards the strap of my dress. He hooks the edge of the blade under my strap, dragging it up and down the thin piece of material. Teasing it.

“Don’t you fucking dare.”

But he just smiles as he pulls the blade through the material.

“You asshole!” I scream. “Do you know how difficult it was to get my hands on this dress!”

“I don’t give a shit, princess.” He slices through the other strap and the heavy, jewel encrusted material slinks to the ground, pooling at my feet.

“Holy fuck,” he breathes, and I’d be flattered if I wasn’t seething at my ruined dress.

“Pick it up off the floor, or so help me God, I’ll?—”

“What?” He interrupts. “What are you going to do, Echo? Run and tell daddy? Get all his big bad men to come and teach me a lesson?” His eyes darken and he brings his hand up to wrap around my throat again. But it’s not threatening. It’s more like he’s just resting it there. “Well, I’ve got fucking news for you, princess. You’re in my house now and your daddy’s throne is nothing compared to mine.”

“Who are you?”

“I’m surprised it’s taken you this long to ask. I’m Maxim Volkov.”

Well, shit.