Chapter Three

Dismayed

Ella

Things were getting worse—and fast. Waking up alone in the woods and finding herself fettered and freezing was awful enough, but this latest development sent fear spiraling along her spine.

The man claiming to make the rules was enormous. Not only was he outlandishly tall, but he looked as though he was built like a brick house as well. Beneath his plaid shirt, she bet there was a stack of muscle. Tucker was clearly strong and resolved to snatch her.

She was in big fricking trouble.

Thanks to Dad.

Ella's father had always been next to useless. He'd denied paternity for many years of her life. Then once her mother had proven he was Ella's dad, he'd plied her with cash as compensation, funneling her from one expensive yacht to another swanky hotel.

She'd no idea he was in financial difficulties. Alexander Bennett owned more than one company and was used to the finer things in life. Why would he need to borrow money from a man like the one currently towering over her?

Tucker's gaze was menacing as his jaw tightened, provoking the question of why anyone would want to spend time with him at all.

"So?"

"So, what?" Her predicament was suddenly all too clear. He was going to take her, and despite her fight-or-flight response, there wasn't a damn thing she could do to stop him.

What am I going to do?

Even if she didn't want to admit it, she stood little chance of getting away from Tucker, especially with her hands and feet still bound, but she didn't want to go with him proactively. He was a complete stranger, apparently there to hold her hostage at her father's insistence. He could take her anywhere and do anything…

But he had a point. She wouldn't stand a chance left out there alone. Ella knew nothing about survival. She was more used to salon appointments than foraging for food.

"Which of the two options do you choose?"

It hadn't escaped her notice that his tone had exponentially lowered in the last few moments. She sensed Tucker's patience was waning.

"I can't just let you take me." If her hands had been freed, she'd have shoved him away. Who did he think she was? Nobody would choose to be a captive. Was he mad?

"You can comply."

He edged closer until only a few inches separated them, his gaze somehow knowing. Tucker was right. He was going to win the battle, and there was nothing she could do about it.

She knew it.

So did he.

She could scream and cry and do her best to slow his progress, but ultimately, she couldn't stop him. She was screwed, thanks to her useless father. Tucker was going to take her. It was only a question of how things were going to unfold.

"Why?" She could hardly get the word out. As though her body had just caught up with her panicking mind, everything seemed to be happening in slow motion.

This was really happening.

She'd been left in the dirt by her own father for this man to have his wicked way.

"Why would I comply?" Craning her neck, she met his stare as he pressed slightly toward her. The act, although subtle, compounded her burgeoning dread.

He can do anything he likes. He can push himself against me, on me, or…

Her throat closed as her thoughts ran to their logical conclusion, heightening her utter sense of powerlessness.

"Because that will make me happy." His stare was unyielding, and for the first time, she noticed that he had blue eyes. "And you want to make me happy, don't you, Ella?"

Did she? Her blood ran cold as she understood his implied meaning. She ought to keep her captor sweet if she intended to survive.

"Why would I want to do that?" she asked, even though she knew the answer.

She had the distinct impression that Tucker's patience was close to the breaking point and that each new question she posed was inching him over the edge. Yet still, she asked them, as if she couldn't resist the danger he potentially presented.

Don't be silly.

The jeopardy Tucker exhibited was as real as the tree propping her up. She ought to stop poking the beast, ought to just submit and hope he went easy on her, yet she refused.

"Why?" He leaned closer, the warmth of his breath washing over her face. "Why wouldn't you want to appease the man who's about to kidnap you?"

Oh God. Alarm ballooned as he spelled out just how big the hole her father had dug for her was.

He was going to kidnap her. He'd said so out loud.

"Why would I help someone who wanted to withhold my liberty?" Her voice was scarcely even a whisper as she tried to articulate her viewpoint. His glare darkened as he answered.

"Because he's withholding your liberty." His lips twisted at her absurdity. "And he has all the power."

"Well, when you put it like that…" Her voice trailed away as she struggled to comprehend her situation.

She couldn't reconcile conformity to his plan, even though his logic made sense for her safety and wellbeing. Yet she didn't want to anger him either. God only knew what his tall and foreboding stature was capable of.

What message would it send to him if she rolled over and allowed him to manhandle her? Her compliance could be misconstrued as consent, and if Tucker assumed as much, how would she ever look at herself in the mirror again?

Assuming I ever see a mirror again.

Her brows knitted, pain jabbing in her chest as she contemplated how stark this situation was compared to normality. She could kiss goodbye to everything she'd ever known, as well as her freedom.

Ella was the first to admit that she'd led a privileged life. She'd been short of little, even before Alexander's money started to feather her mother's nest, and her dad's abundance had only amplified her luxury. However, even recognizing her good fortune didn't allow her to be that woman—the woman who fluttered her eyelashes and acquiesced when the bigger, stronger bully sought to take control. She didn't want to be the woman who smiled sweetly and accepted her fate.

She was definitely not that woman.

She owed it to herself, to her mother, and frankly, every woman out there to fight for her freedom.

"Make your choice." His expression hardened.

"Will you untie me if I do as you say?" She had no intention of obeying him but was happy to lull him into a false sense of security so she could rid herself of the damn ropes. Maybe then, she'd have a chance to flee, even if the enormous hulk of a man looming over her wasn't certain to catch up with her.

"No," he balked, shaking his head as though she was a preposterous child. "You stay bound."

"Why?" Her voice was stronger that time, her frustration radiating through her fear as she held his gaze. "Why do I need to be bound?"

"Why must you ask so many questions?" His head tilted, and for one horrifying moment, she thought he might kiss her.

Her heart stopped as she considered what that meant.

Did he find her attractive? Was that the reason he sought to have her holed up in his house? Sure, the thought of his unwelcome advances had flitted through her head, but she hadn't permitted herself to linger on them until that moment.

What the hell was she going to do if he made her submit? She wouldn't stand a chance against him.

"I'm confused," she rasped. "You have to remember, I didn't know anything about this until a few minutes ago."

"Hmmm." He didn't sound convinced, but at least he'd straightened, permitting more space between them. "Either way, we have to go, and you still haven't made your choice."

Holding her breath, she scanned his face for clues about his true intentions. What did he have in mind when he held her at his place? Earlier, he'd told her that hurting her wasn't the plan, but could she believe him in light of unraveling events?

"I don't know what to say." Once more, her focus flitted around the trees behind him, searching frantically for a way out she'd managed to overlook.

But of course, there were none.

She hadn't missed anything.

Ella was on her own with the unknown quantity that was Tucker Bowman.

"Good." His lips curled, but she couldn't help feeling the smile was in some way insidious. "I'll take your silence as approval."

"What?" Her heart rate accelerated. "That's not what I meant. I don't want to go with you. I'm not Alexander's to give away!"

"You call your dad Alexander?" Tucker's brow furrowed, his apparent perturbed response seeming to throw him off track.

"Sometimes." What did how she referred to her spineless father have anything to do with her plight? "I don't have that much to do with him." And based on where she was standing, it wasn't difficult to see why. "But I didn't think he'd do anything like this."

"You have my apologies for the man who fathered you."

For once, she suspected his tone might be genuine, and fleetingly, she wondered what the history was between him and Alexander. Tucker had said her father owed him money, but the flicker of anger in Tucker's eyes suggested there was more to the matter than only cash.

Nothing would surprise her. Alexander Bennett was known to be callous and dismissive, and he had a proven track record of offending both friends and enemies. She'd wager he'd crossed swords with Tucker—on multiple occasions.

"The question of paternity doesn't change what's happening here." His voice jarred her back to the heart-stopping reality. "You're coming with me, and I would prefer not to have to fight you to get there."

"Tucker, I…" She hesitated, unsure how to reach out to him. So far, he hadn't done anything to harm her, and that was good. She had to hope there was a man with a conscience trapped inside his strapping form. Someone who would listen and take mercy on her. "Please. I can't just let you do this."

"So, you plan to fight me?"

She noticed his wry amusement. Oddly, his unspoken scorn reminded her of her father.

"I can't fight you." She might as well admit that much. "Look at me compared to you."

"I'm glad you see that."

"I'm just asking for you to be fair." Tears stung in her eyes again, but she adamantly refused to acknowledge their existence. Things were dreadful enough without melting into a flood of tears in front of the giant. "Why would you do this to me?"

"It's not personal." He sighed, closing the space between them until she was forced back to the tree. Pressing against her, he captured her bound wrists between their bodies, leaving her nowhere to go. "It's business."

Business? She could have spat in his face at his cold and aloof response. How was she a part of business? She was a human being, for God's sake—a woman with a life and mind of her own, not an asset to be passed around as collateral.

What made him—or her useless father—think this was acceptable?

"I don't want this." In the end, it was all she could say.

She turned her head away from him, attempting not to breathe in his masculine scent. She didn't want to acknowledge that the brute smelled like sandalwood—the one scent she adored on men. She refused to accept that anything about him was alluring.

The rage simmering in her veins was being drowned out by her expanding terror. His proximity was as unwelcome as the prospects he outlined for her. He had no right to use his physicality to coerce her. What decent man would treat her this way?

A man who isn't decent.Shards of cold dismay exploded within her, raining down her body as she struggled to make sense of what was happening. A man like my father.

"I understand." One of his hands reached around her and pulled her against him. She froze at his outrageous liberty, her trepidation soaring as his fingers splayed at her back. "And perhaps this is the first time anyone's said this to you, but this dynamic…" His attention flew between them. "It's not about what you want."