my head violently. "I didn't see anything."
A cocky smirk graces his lips. "Sorry sweetheart, but lying isn't going to get you anywhere with me. You remembered my name."
“What did you give me?” The question comes out slower than I intend as I move my arms sluggishly and realize my motor function is off. My body heats with anxiety.
“It’s a heavy sleeping pill.” My head shakes. Liar.
“A roofie?” I ask accusingly. I remember someone saying it earlier. He drugged me. Betrayal washes through my body once again.
“It’s similar to Rohypnol.” He doesn’t even have the decency to look away as he admits that they drugged me.
“Why?” I ask, in a small voice that I hope expresses my hurt.
“You saw something after we were in here, and I didn’t have much choice.” His jaw clenches and he faces the wall for a moment before his gaze focuses back on me. “It was the best option at the time.”
“I don’t remember anything, I swear.” My breath and voice both hitch in my throat. If only he’d believe me.
He sighs heavily. “It’s gonna take more than that, Elle.” My lips tremble and my throat dries up.
“What do I have to do?” I ask, my voice shaky.
“You need to come with me.”
“Am I even going to remember this?” The thought occurs to me as I really think about what a roofie does.
“I don’t know,” he answers calmly. “I hope not, 'cause that would really fuck this plan up. You should still be asleep.”
"I won't tell anyone." The words fly out of my mouth. I whisper hoarsely, "I swear to God, I won't." I don’t care that he drugged me; I just want to get the hell out of here.
His eyes are full of remorse. "That's something we just can't risk."
"Who are you?”
He answers easily. "The mob, sweetheart." My blood chills at his confession. "You just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time." His eyes narrow and turn angry. "You should’ve waited for me." His words have a tone of accusation, but I don’t even know what he’s referring to.
Even with the fear from his threat still hanging over me, I manage to spit out a response in disbelief. "What did I do to deserve this?" I slam my mouth shut at the pissed off look on his face.
"That mouth, sweetheart, that mouth of yours is going to get you into trouble."
I close my eyes and pretend it's all a dream. "Please, just let me go," I whisper. After a moment, I open my eyes and find him standing, looking down at me. His broad shoulders and air of power make him the epitome of intimidation and domination. This man owns me. I am completely at his mercy.
"I'm sorry, sweetheart. I really am." He presses his lips into a straight line and shakes his head slowly. "But I'm not letting you go."
"What are you going to do with me?" My heart thuds against my chest, yet my lungs seem to freeze as I wait for his answer. He walks around the desk with his back turned to me. The sinewy muscles of his arms ripple with his movements.
He opens a drawer, and my eyes widen as I whimper and shove my body even harder into the wall. I want to look at the door. I want to search for an escape. Instead, my eyes are zeroed in on him, waiting to see what he's pulling out of the desk. I'm assuming it's a gun. I fully expect for him to shoot me.
I don't expect him to pull out thin, twined rope. It's the coarse kind that's used in kitchens. “You're going to listen to me, Elle. And I promise if you do, I'll do everything I can to keep you safe."
A mix of emotions washes over me as he pulls out more rope and wraps it around his wrist. Surprisingly, confusion is one of the strongest ones I'm currently feeling. "Why?" I can't help asking the question. “Why are you doing this to me?”
Vince pauses his movements as his eyes find mine. His cold gaze keeps my eyes locked on his although I desperately want to look away. He responds after a long moment of silence. "Trust me, Elle. It’s better this way." For the briefest second, some sick part of me does trust him. But then I quickly come to my senses.
I don’t trust him. I won’t.
Vince
What the fuck am I doing? I run my hand down my face as I