Chapter 7

Allison's POV

The sight of my father's back becomes blurry with my tears. He is truly leaving me here; the reality of the matter makes me sick to my stomach, especially standing in this mansion with so many eyes on me. Eyes of thirsty men, yet none of these eyes bother me as much as the man partially concealed under a dark cowboy hat. I can barely make out his features even under the clear luminance of the fantastical lobby.

All I know is that he has a jawline sharp enough to cut through diamonds. His lips, though, are quite plump and dangerously set, now thinned out with anger. His attention rests on me, hands folded across his chest as though he has been studying me from the beginning.

"Everyone can leave." His voice rumbles through his lips, causing me to swallow in terror. Who is Darius Hunter? And why does his presence command such horror and awe?

Immediately, everyone turns toward the exit of the lobby as if they are puppets on a string. I start to follow the crowd to the exit when he clears his throat.

"Not you, kitten. You stay with me." His voice keeps me in place. My head tells me to scream in protest, to beg one of the seven men in front of me to save me. Yet my voice will not find itself, my legs will not move as they are rooted in place, my back to him, my heart beating rapidly, and my hands wringing themselves continuously.

Before I know it, we are alone. Just him and me in this vast ambiance of opulence, haunted by his dauntingly evil presence.

"You're shaking," he states the obvious. I can feel his every movement. He takes a step towards me, takes off his hat, then inhales deeply and exhales sharply. "Allison Martins, is it? Such a boring name..."

If I weren't in my pajamas, if I weren't dragged out of my bed into such a cold night, maybe I wouldn't be shaking. Except his presence itself is cold, a freezing abyss of darkness that grows even colder with his proximity. This man could freeze hell with his presence.

"I... I can't stay... here." The words grit through my mouth, barely audible enough for me to hear.

I expect a reply from him, something rash and angry, confirming that I have no way out of here, that I am his and he will use me to his fill. Instead, I am met with silence.

"Face me."

And I obey like the timid kitten that I am, even though I know I should be stubborn, disagreeing with everything and everyone around me. I should fight my way out, because that's what my mother taught me. Except I'm too tired, too heartbroken to think straight. At this point, all I want to do is cry myself to sleep.

His face brings my thoughts to a halt, pausing my mind's chaos while I'm hypnotized. He is not just handsome; he is compelling. He seems like a character from another universe, perhaps a god or something. He has a high nose that fits perfectly on his face, his eyes dark, black as the night, hooded under thick dark eyebrows. His hair is slicked back neatly to perfection, not a single strand out of place.

"Now repeat what you said..."

What did I say? I'm not sure I remember...

My mouth opens stupidly, my brain is scanning itself, spinning in futility with a second-generation network... Aha... I remember!

"I said I can't stay here..." I'm ashamed of how confused I sound. "Let me go. I'll find a way to pay you." I say these words with more certainty, courage returning to my bones.

He lifts a brow in boredom and exhales slowly, clicks his tongue against the roof of his mouth, and shakes his head.

"Okay."

My brows furrow in confusion. "Okay?" I repeat with uncertainty.

"Yeah. I'll give you five minutes to get my money. If you don't bring me my sixty-five million dollars, I'll make you do things you never thought existed in your little head. You'll be scarred for the rest of your life, my lovely little kitten."

It's true. Everything he says is true. I can feel the heat from his eyes, his presence now suffocating, so suffocating that I'm losing air.

"It's not... possible," I whisper, my voice breaking into a thousand pieces.

"There you have your answer." A smile forms on his lips, a deathly smile that causes a shiver to run down my spine. "You're stuck with me."

Anger wells up in my veins, the urge to slap him and send him sprawling across the sofa adjacent to us bubbling through my skin. Without much planning, I raise my hand and yelp as my effort is obstructed by his fingers wrapped tightly around my wrist.

"Please..." I beg with wide eyes, seeing how intent he is on breaking my wrist in two. "Please..." Oh my goodness, he's enjoying this, getting off on the pain he is inflicting on me.

He lets me go with a snap. "You should try that again... And you will work for me without your hands." My face squirms in disgust and horror, the foulest thought piercing my head. "Oh God, no, I won't chop off your wrists." His own disgusted expression meets mine, offering me a small relief. "But I will put my favorite chain around them."

I still wince at the thought. "What exactly do you want from me?" It's funny how this man is the first person I'm having a long conversation with other than my parents in my entire life. It's almost exciting as it is disorienting, as is the fact that he is the same man we've been running away from, the same reason I've been locked up for years.

"Not a question you have the right to ask. But, since you truly want to know, I'll do you the honor of answering." He closes the distance between us, making me jump back in reflex, putting more distance between us.

I put my hands in front of me like they're holy water and the cross protecting me from the vampire before me. "Stay the fuck away from me!"

He is amused, amused by my ridiculous position. But I don't need a psychic to demystify what he wants to do to me; I'm pretty sure it involves using my body for his pleasure.

"You pride yourself too high, Allison Martins. But you're in no way my type. I deal with experienced women, women who know their own bodies and how to navigate a man's. You, my dear, are not just naïve, but... a child. I cannot deal with a child..."

"I'm twenty!" I explode in frustration, feeling beyond insulted by his words. "And I do not plan to navigate anyone's body!" At this point, I have no idea why I'm so angry. It's true that I am very inexperienced, in life as a whole and with a man's body.

"You're blushing. Anyway, kitten, you will steal for me."

Blood drains from my face completely, my eyes wide with confusion. Is this not worse? Committing crimes for criminals? I'll get arrested or worse, killed.

"I'm not a thief..." I gasp, unable to comprehend his request.

"Thief? Who said you were one? I never assumed that, darling..." He smiles more genuinely, not his horrifying smile, the type that makes him a little less dangerous.

What does he want me to steal anyway? Drugs from another mafia family? Oh my god, what has my father done to me!? Or guns... Perhaps he wants me to steal some sort of weapon. Perhaps a bomb. Or a bomb that would go off in his enemy's territory while I'm there. That would make me a suicide bomber, and if my life and mission are worth enough, it would pay off my family's debt. Is this why pops brought me here? To die?

"I don't want to die..." I blurt out with dense sadness, regret in my eyes as I convince myself that I'll be stealing a bomb that will go off the instant I touch it.

Darius is stunned by my sad admission; now he is laughing at me. He is truly happy to see me disconcerted, such a devil. He wants me to really die, how disheartening.

"Die..." He chuckles deeply, cradling his belly. "Who said anything about dying? And why would I kill my prize anyway? Do I look like a man who plays with his money?" He asks with a half-smile curled on his face.

I do not answer, my heart palpitating in anticipation of what he's about to say. My lips are quivering as well, envisioning the worst situation.

"I want you to steal a..." He hesitates, giving me a look that steals my breath. "A Barbie doll... and a story book. I need you to shoplift, and I want to watch you do it."