Precious Gems - Sierra Hill Page 0,11
from whatever nefarious plan he has to keep me.
Our eyes connect again, mine pleading for help from a man who has no intention of helping me. Without a word, he lifts the pouch again to his nose, his eyes blazing a dark need.
“Don’t worry, little girl. If what you say is true, and the product you’ve brought is legitimate, then you’ll be free to return to your home a day from now.” He tilts his head, cocking a suspicious eyebrow. “But if you’re lying and I don’t get what I was promised, then there are other ways I will make you pay.”
I may be a virgin, but his threat registers a spark of heat low in my belly, and I have to turn away, so he doesn’t notice the flush that rises up my throat and neck like a vine, indicating the effect it has on me.
Because while his warning isn’t explicit, I understand what it means. I’m not stupid in the ways of the world. I know what a man like him could do with a girl like me.
The worst-case scenario is he could sell me for a price, I suppose, to the highest bidder. Best case is…well, I don’t know. And I don’t want to find out.
“Please,” I beg again. “Please just call Mudd and he’ll clear up all this confusion. You don’t have to hold me hostage to make that happen.”
He moves toward me, Hulk holding my arms behind my back, leaving me vulnerable to anything this man might do. And because I’m prone to beatings, I flinch when he trails a finger down the side of my face.
“I’m afraid that’s just not how this works, Gemma. You don’t call the shots. Mudd has already changed the rules in our arrangement, and therefore he’s broken my trust. So, until I confirm I haven’t been duped, you’re staying where I can monitor you. That means no phone, no contact, and no complaints. You’ll do as I say or there will be consequences.”
He flicks his wrist toward the door and once again, I’m being forced down a darkened stairwell until we hit a door that requires an entry code. Hulk stands to the side to block my view as he enters a 4-digit code and a door opens into a parking garage. Definitely not a public one from the handful of vehicles, all of expensive taste and quality.
Aston Martin. Maserati. Bentley.
Hulk rounds the hood of a dark-colored Tesla and opens the back door for me.
“Get in,” he snarls, and I do as he says. There’s no reason to argue with this man. I wouldn’t win a fight with him, plus he’s only doing what his boss has told him to do.
As he settles in the driver’s seat, I decide to finally ask the question.
“What’s his name? Your boss?”
I notice his eyes flicker from the rearview mirror. He gives a shake of his head and chuckles.
“Boss.”
Rolling my eyes, I grumble like a schoolgirl. “Seriously? You know what I mean. How can I do business with a man when I can’t even address him properly?”
He thinks for a moment and then lifts his brick of a shoulder. “If he wanted you to know his name, he would have introduced himself.”
“Fine. I’ll find out on my own.”
“You do that.”
Apparently, the Cove is the name of a condo building of some sort.
After Hulk parks in a private stall, we ride a private elevator up to the top floor – a sprawling labyrinth of a home, the likes of which I’ve never seen.
Opulence doesn’t come close to describing this place. My home in Jersey could easily fit in the kitchen alone.
Hulk leads me through a hallway littered with works of art, some of which I’ve seen at the Met the one and only time I ever went there on a school field trip in middle school. If I had to put a price tag on any of these paintings, I’d say they’d sell for at least a half million or more.
I may not be an artist yet, nor do I appraise art, but that doesn’t mean I’m not a good judge of rare collections. These pieces are worth some bank.
If this is where the man lives, he has invested a lot of money on fine-ass things. We walk a maze of hallways and finally end up at a locked door. Hulk produces a key, unlocks it and opens it up, pointing inside with a tilt of his head.
“Boss will be back soon. You’re to