move mine away from him–and then voiced the word “Speak!” in the most terrifying voice I’ve ever heard.
My tears chose that moment to come loose. I cried, scared and horrified, now knowing that I was truly busted, because that guy had just spoken in English–meaning he knew who I was, though I had no idea how he was able to tell it was me.
The next thing I knew, my face cover was being yanked away from my face and the air hit my flushed cheeks, where the tears had wet enough to tell exactly how terrified I was.
“Well, well, well!” he said, and my throat closed, making it harder to breathe. “What do we have here?” His accent was thicker than a drunken alien just visiting Earth for the first time. “Isn’t this the bride of Prince Mazen?” It wasn’t actually a question; he already knew the answer, there was no doubt of that.
I just stared at him with my frightened eyes. Even now, knowing my cover was blown and I could finally speak, I didn’t know what to say.
“What are you doing here?” he asked, and I still didn’t know what to say–because...seriously? What was there to say?
Apparently, my silence didn’t please him all that much because his grip on my arm tightened, and I did wince this time. With his mouth almost pressed to my ear he spoke aloud, “Speak, woman!” The disgusting stench of his breath was bad enough to make me gag, and that was met by him shoving my arm a bit so that I almost lost my balance and fell, but his grip on my arm prevented that from happening.
Why he was treating me this way was beyond me. I couldn’t understand his reasoning, even after he realized I was the prince’s bride. But I thought that he might have figured out that I was escaping; this was the way that led to the airport anyway, and it’d only been four days since the wedding–of course he could smell that something big was off. If he could smell anything through his nasty, stinking breath, that is.
I was brought back from my thoughts, to what was going on, by the guy gripping me as he walked me toward that BMW of his, saying, “You shouldn’t be here, don’t you think? I’m taking you back to the palace. I believe the king would like to know why you were here and not there.” It was only then that I found my voice and the courage to let it be heard, or maybe it was fear speaking–either way, I just spoke frantically.
“No, no, no! Please, don’t take me back to the palace. Please, don’t!” I tried pulling my arm away from the deathly grip he had on it, but it was no use. He was really strong and I had no power over him. However, my words made him stop dragging me and turn to look at me with questioning eyes.
“And why is that?”
I swallowed thickly. It was on the tip of my tongue to tell him everything about how I’d come here and what had happened next, but something stopped me. I guess it was my fear that it might cause some harm to Janna. I didn’t know who this guy was yet, or if information like that could put Janna in danger, so I didn’t tell him. I just used the only tactic I could think of so fast.
“Listen, I have money. Lots of it. I’ll give you anything you wish for, any amount. Just please don’t take me there, please!”
It was the first time I ever got to hear what Satan’s laugh would sound like, because it couldn’t be any more evil-sounding than this guy’s laugh. His laugh, that sounded as if it came straight from his heart–if he had one–was the response to my offer.
“I’m not interested in your money, you witch,” he said, and my eyes widened. “I’m only interested in knowing what you are doing here with those last year’s Jimmy Choos of yours, and why you don’t want to go back!”
A new round of tears made it out of my eyes at the sound of his words, now knowing that money wouldn’t help, and that this guy would drag me back to the palace no matter what.
Lord, give me the strength.
The next minute, I was sitting in his car, knowing full well that trying to run again wouldn’t do me any good: I’d just get manhandled and shoved around some