Chapter 2 Up In Sheets

ANYA'S POV

"Hello, Anya."

I turn around to see two big men behind me. I can't pick out which one of them called my name. I look between their big, imposing figures, and I don't think they're here to sell me Girl Scout cookies.

My heart starts beating like a drum. The alley is completely deserted except for us, no witnesses.

I take a step back, heart pounding like it's trying to punch through my ribs.

How do they know my name?

"Don't be scared." One of them says, raising his hands like that makes this normal. "We just want to talk."

Talk?

People don't talk in alleys like this.

People don't smile like that unless they already know how this ends.

"Boss just wants a word, the other one adds. He reaches into his coat.

That's it. That's all I need.

Nope.

I turn and run.

Adrenaline kicks in hard. I bolt, lungs burning, sneakers slipping on the greasy pavement. I scream like my life depends on it - because it might.

"HELP! SOMEBODY HELP ME!"

I know I can't fight these men, and whatever they want – most likely money, I don't have it. So I do the next best thing, and I run.

I run screaming. "Helllpppppp!"

The cold night air punches me in the lungs as I tear down the stairs and out onto the street. My vision blurs with tears; rage, heartbreak, they all mix until I can't tell which is which. I don't stop. I don't look back. I run like death is chasing me. Maybe it is.

Three blocks later, I'm panting on a street corner, arms wrapped around myself, my body shivering in the wind, and my heart pounding like it wants out of my chest. I don't even know where I'm going. I just keep moving.

Then headlights slice through the night. At first, I think it's a cab, and my heart leaps with hope. I can get in and get away.

Then I see the blacked-out windows.

The sleek, silent way it rolls to a stop beside me.

I freeze.

The back door opens.

The two men from earlier step out. Black clothes. Black gloves. Blank faces.

Damn, they're really persistent, all I have on me are tips from working at Louise's tonight, and I don't think its enough motivation for them to be so adamant at getting me.

But I don't say any of that, instead, andrenaline surges through my veins and without thinking, I run again.

But it doesn't matter because the men are more prepared this time. I'm not quick enough, and hands grab me-one around my mouth, the other pinning my arms.

I thrash, kick, bite, fight like hell.

"Let me gooooooo!!!" I yell, kicking and screaming. But I'm much smaller in size, and tired from working all day, but they're not.

While I fight aginst their hands, one of them mutters something in Italian I can't understand, and the other answers with a grunt.

Then pain explodes in the side of my head. Bright and sharp.

Everything spins.

My legs give out.

As I slip into darkness, I hear one thing-low, clipped, urgent."Careful. Master will not like it if she's hurt."

Then the darkness swallows me.

I can't tell how long I was out for, but when I wake up, I'm in a different environment. The first thing I notice is the silk sheets, it feels heavenly on my skin. I look around, at first and notice I'm in an opulent bedroom.

I guess there are worse things than waking up tied to a bed in a stranger's mansion.

For instance, I could be dead. Or worse-still with Micah, who never hit me but always made me feel like I was two seconds away from being slapped. Emotionally, spiritually, financially.

Still. Being alive doesn't mean I'm safe.

And this room?

It screams expensive prison. The air smells like cedarwood and power. I sit up, and that's when I notice the figure leaning against the far wall-his arms crossed, his face carved from stone.

My heart starts beating twice the rhythm again, because I know that man.

Rylan D'Amato.

He's the same man I saw two years ago in a back alley with blood on his hands.

The man the whispers call the devil in a designer suit.

My chest tightens as I push myself against the headboard, my head pounding with something dull and lingering. Drugs, maybe. I can't remember how I got here. Only flashes. The bakery. Micah. The black SUV.

Oh Micah.

At the thought of his name, a tear slips down the edge of my eyes, his betrayal stings so much. An image flashes in my mind of him naked with that girl, and the tears run down my cheeks.

How could he?

But I wipe the tear furiously, and that's when the man in the shadow moves.

"You're awake." His voice hits like a shot of espresso laced with poison. Smooth, dark, with enough bite to make me flinch.

"You drugged me," I rasp, my voice hoarse but not broken.

He mutters a sharp curse in Italian under his breath, then lifts his gaze to mine. Something flashes is his eyes, is he... apologetic?

"Pardon," he says, voice smooth like velvet. "My men sometimes interpret my orders... creatively."

He steps into the light, and God help me, he's beautiful. Not the soft kind of beautiful. No. He's all hard edges and unrelenting grace.

I have to look up to take in his height. He's tall... really tall. Broad shoulders in a charcoal suit, a crisp white shirt unbuttoned at the collar, revealing tanned skin. Black hair combed back. Dark stubble shadows his jaw. His eyes are a piercing steel-gray-emotionless. Every inch of him is controlled, deliberate. From his wrist to his neck, I can see hints of Tattoos. He could be on the cover of GQ if he didn't look like he could end lives with a flick of his wrist.

He looks like a king.

No.

He looks like the kind of man who rules kingdoms through bloodshed and contracts inked in flesh."

Where am I?" I ask.

Rylan smirks, and somehow it's worse than if he'd shouted. "Home," he says.

Whose home?"

He raises a brow. "Guess."

I freeze. "You kidnapped me...and brought me to your home."

He nods once, without apology. "Technically. But let's not get hung up on semantics."

I stare at him. "You're insane."

"You're mine." His tone is matter-of-fact. Like we're discussing the weather.

"What? No." I rise from the bed, legs shaky but fueled by adrenaline. "I don't know what the hell kind of power trip you're on, but I'm leaving."

His smile doesn't reach his eyes when he says, "Try."

I walk. Fast. My feet hit the cold marble floor, and I make it halfway across the room before the door swings open-two large men in black step in - the men from the alley.

I stumble back.

"They won't touch you unless I tell them to." Rylan's voice wraps around me like a noose. "But you won't make it far. You're in the middle of nowhere, and this house is locked tighter than a Vatican vault."

I whirl on him, chest heaving. "Why?"

His gaze drops to my lips, then lower, like he's memorizing every inch of me. "Because you were given to me. And now you belong to me."

"No." I shake my head. "I saw you kill didn't tell anyone. That doesn't mean-"

"That's exactly why you're here." He closes the distance between us until I'm breathing in danger and spice. "You saw me. And you didn't run to the police. You didn't scream. That made me curious and so I had to find out more about you."

"You've been watching me," I say softly. It's more of a realization than a question. I know I've had the feeling of being watched, but no solid proof.

"For a while." He's so close now, I can see the flecks of steel in his dark eyes. "The way you smile at strangers. The way you cry in bathrooms because you think no one notices. The way you let that boy lie to you, over and over again, because you'd rather be used than be alone."

My breath catches.

"I've been watching you, and I know you're the kind of girl who fights back even when she's scared."

I tremble. "You can't keep me here."

His hand comes up. Fingers graze my jaw, deceptively gentle. "I'm offering you a deal."

I should slap him. I should scream. But I can't move.

"You want freedom? He murmurs. "Then earn it."

My mouth is dry, my heart is a drum in my chest, I can't believe I'm negotiating my freedom with a man who abducted me. But I lick my lips and ask."How?"

He leans in until his lips hover over mine, not touching, just promising.

"Be my wife."

The words slam into me.

"What-"

"Marry me. Tonight."

I blink in surprise, amazement, and disbelief. "Why the hell would you want to marry me?"

His smile is pure sin. "Because you're mine and I need a queen."

I can't breathe, it feels like the room is spinning. Yet, Rylan stands there in his impeccable suit like he just said the most reasonable thing in the world. "You're crazy."

His lips brush my ear. "This is the only way out. Play the game, Anya. Or die trying."

I don't answer.

I can't.

He doesn't blink. Doesn't waver when he says. "Either way, you belong to me now, Anya Cole."