Sadie
That night, my phone rang, and a new number flashed on the screen. It was Zane. I answered on the second ring, a breathless "hello" escaping my lips.
"Get dressed, princess," his voice came through, low and commanding. "I'm sending a car for you in thirty minutes. Wear something beautiful."
My mind raced. "Where are we going?" I asked, my heart pounding.
"You'll see," he said, and the line went dead.
I raced to my closet, my hands flying over my clothes. I had a beautiful little black dress I'd been saving for a special occasion. I pulled it on, feeling a strange mix of nerves and excitement. The dress hugged my curves in all the right places, and as I looked in the mirror, I felt a surge of confidence. I was a woman, not a scared little girl. I was ready to step into his world.
The doorbell rang precisely thirty minutes later. I opened the door to a tall, imposing man in a suit, a chauffeur's cap in his hand. He nodded respectfully. "Miss Robertson, Mr. Gonzalez is waiting for you."
The car ride was a blur. The city lights streaked past the tinted windows, but all I could think about was him. The car pulled up to the tallest skyscraper in the city, the one with "Gonzalez Industries" emblazoned on the top. I walked through the revolving doors, past the same security guard, and into the private elevator. The ride up was silent, the numbers on the panel ticking up until it finally stopped on the penthouse floor.
The doors opened, and he was there, standing in the middle of the massive, open space, a glass of whiskey in his hand. He was dressed in a sleek black suit, his dark hair perfectly styled, and he looked like a god. His eyes, the colour of obsidian, were fixed on me, and I felt a jolt of raw, unadulterated desire.
"You look breathtaking, princess," he said, his voice a low rumble. He set his glass down and walked toward me, his long strides devouring the distance between us. He stopped a few inches from me, his scent filling my senses, a strange mix of expensive cologne and something primal and dangerous. He reached out and gently cupped my chin, tilting my face up to meet his gaze.
"I brought you here to show you something," he said, his voice a low, gravelly murmur. He led me to his desk, where a massive screen was set up. My breath caught in my throat as I saw the image on the screen. It was a live feed of a desolate, dirty warehouse. And in the centre of the warehouse was a lone figure, tied to a chair. It was Bill Collins.
I gasped, my hand flying to my mouth. Bill Collins was dishevelled, his face bruised and swollen, a look of pure, unadulterated terror in his eyes. A man, dressed in all black, stood over him, holding a leather whip. He was talking, but I couldn't hear what he was saying. I felt a wave of nausea wash over me. I had asked Zane to help me, but I had never, in my wildest dreams, imagined this.
"This is what happens, princess," Zane said, his voice a cold, hard promise. "This is what happens when you mess with what's mine. You wanted to know what I was capable of. Now you know." He watched me, a small, dark smirk on his face, waiting for me to break. He was a monster, a predator, and I was his prey. He had shown me his world, and I had stepped into it. And for the first time in my life, I felt… the danger coursing through my veins.