Think, Mel, think. The wall of pain from behind my eyes isn’t conducive to thinking, though. My headache is back with a vengeance, thanks to the drugs Adie has yet again pumped into me. That man. When I get my hands on him, I’m going to make him rue the day he ever set eyes on me. I am going to reduce that bastard to cinders and ashes, while thoroughly enjoying myself in the process.
Revenge is good, Mel, but we need to focus. Good point. Okay, I can’t get out of these ropes without some kind of help. Struggling will just make them tighter, and that’s the last thing I need. A quick glance around the miniature bedroom reveals there’s not much that I will be able to make use of. There’s nothing nearby that will saw through this rope, and no lamp or other object that can be knocked over. Even if there was, my hands are too high up to make use of anything. This is hopeless. As it’s a jet, everything is locked down tight or screwed on to the walls. Even the mattress I’m on won’t budge. This means I’ll have to convince Adie to untie me, and that will be tricky if not nigh on impossible. Speak of the devil, the door handle then begins to turn, and I brace my body accordingly. Forget butterflies, think an angry stampede of animals, and I’m not talking about a few kittens and a couple of bunny rabbits. Nah, we’re talking elephants, giraffes and rhinos here.
“Are you going to do the screaming, wailing, and yelling for help thing?” Adie looks at me questioningly as he strides in with a bottle of water, and the room suddenly feels as if it’s shrunk in half. If the man were a mile away, I swear that would be too close, so a couple of meters feels right up in my face. I wish the asshole would get rid of that suit. Men in suits do funny things to me. At least, I’m fairly sure it’s the suit.
“Is there anyone up here who would hear it?” I already know there isn’t, so there’s little point. Besides, screaming and wailing is a last resort. That would mean I’m desperate, and I’m never desperate. Melinda Leader would never stoop so low. I have standards to maintain.
“No, or no one who would care, anyway.” Adie shrugs his shoulders. He is supremely confident in the team he’s got up here, by the looks of things. Mind you, he should be. Crossing one of the Dumortier’s is like asking to be diced up into tiny little pieces, while they feed you to their pet alligator. The torture Alain performed on his victims is mind-blowing, if the reports are to be believed. Hannibal Lecter has nothing on that man. He’s not even in the same league.
“Then I’ll save my breath. By the sounds of things, I’ll be needing it later.” Why the fuck did you say that, Mel? You’ll be miles away from here by then. There is no way you will be at the mercy of this man. Calm the fuck down.
“I must say, you’re taking all of this remarkably well.” Adie raises his eyebrows as he sits down beside me, placing the bottle on the cabinet next to me. He then props a pillow behind my back, before picking the bottle up and placing the straw in front of my lips. I don’t make the mistake of refusing him this time. I need that water. The first sip is bitter as hell, so that means the aspirin is dissolved inside. It tastes revolting, but at least my headache will disappear soon, so there’s that.
When it’s half finished, Adie sets it back down and pulls a packet of crackers from his pocket. “I’m sorry, it’s not much, but anything’s better than nothing for the time being.” Adie then places a cracker at my lips, and a red haze crosses my vision. He’s about to whip me and pull my fingernails out, but he thinks I’ll just sit there and eat from his fingers? Fuck him.
“Eat,” he commands me, and then I really see red.
“Fuck…” I don’t get to spit the last part of that sentence out because Adie has already shoved the cracker inside my mouth.
“Don’t even think of spitting that out, if you do…” the rest of his sentence tails off as a hailstorm of crumbs fly across the bedroom, and I choke on the back end of them.
His face descends into a glower, and where there was light and laughter before, there is now nothing but darkness.
As he stands there, I swear I can hear him counting to ten in his head. He’s mad, and I don’t care because I’m mad, too.
Raising his eyes to mine, so they see straight through me, he sears the imprint of his face into my brain as he says, “Don’t push me, Ione. You won’t like what happens next.” His voice is soft, low and dangerous. The trouble is, I don’t care. My fuse has been lit, and someone’s thrown gasoline all over it. Staring at each other for several seconds, Adie then grabs hold of my left breast, and his thumb grazes my nipple through the thin, silky fabric of the shift. I shoot up into his hand, and curse inwardly at my reaction.
“I’m not going to like what happens next, anyway, so you might as well do your worst.” There’s no point in caving in yet. Besides, I figure I have to yank this man’s chain. If there’s any chance of me getting out of these ropes, I need to get him riled up. People who lose their temper do stupid things. This might just work in my favor.
Adie pulls another cracker out of the packet and looks at it, before raising an eyebrow at me.
“You don’t want to see me at my worst, princess. I don’t think you realise who I am, or what I’m capable of. The very last thing you want to do is annoy me, Ione.” He gives me plenty more eyebrow as he stares down at my face, and that annoys me even more.
“I am not eating your fucking crackers.” My gaze is mutinous. Let’s see where this goes. Does Adrien Dumortier have a temper? His father and brother did. It makes sense that the apple didn’t fall too far from the tree. Maybe I can use that to my advantage. Perhaps I can rile him up. Let’s see.
“Oh, you absolutely are, princess. Are we doing this the hard way or the easy way? I’d have thought you’d have learnt after last time, but I’m game if you are.” He just stands there looking at me, with his hands resting casually on his hips. There is no anger reflected back in those inky black eyes of his, and I wonder if I’m about to regret this moment of defiance. This is the point where I should probably back down and eat the damn crackers. I’m not going to, but there we are. It’s time to play with fire and see what happens. What was it John Wayne said? Courage is being scared to death but saddling up, anyway. Well, that’s me right now. Yeehaw.
“Make me, asshole.” There we go. I’ve said it. I’m not sure whether to congratulate myself or slap myself upside the head, but as my hands are tied, we’ll go for the former option and hope for the best.
Adrien gives me a slow smile. “I thought you’d never ask, princess.” Reaching into his pocket, he pulls out a penknife and a lighter. “Pick one,” he says.
Oh fuck. He’s going straight in for the kill. How unfair is that? Here’s the part where I want to chicken out. So much for being brave. Getting burned or cut isn’t high on my list of priorities right now. Looking from one hand to the other, my face goes green.
“Come on, princess. It’s not a hard decision. You’d better make it quick, or I’ll make it for you. What’s it to be? Blade or lighter?” He waves both items in the air, and my stomach lurches dangerously.
“I’ll eat the crackers,” I whisper. Fuck this. There’s bravery and there’s stupidity. These scars will be with me for a long time to come, and I’d prefer not to have any permanent reminders of my time here.