Max might not have wanted to hurt me, but the aftereffects of those drugs were worse than the most wicked hangover of my life.
Despite the nauseating waves of heat that rolled just beneath my skin, my flesh pebbled with an echo of the bone-deep chill that’d settled over me in that basement. I rubbed my arms, hugging myself tight. The back of my neck prickled, and I shot a wary glance around my brightly lit kitchen. I couldn’t shake the fear that’d taken root in my psyche, keeping me on high alert for danger that seemed to have evaporated in the morning sunlight.
Moving with slow caution, I tiptoed around my entire apartment, checking every corner for signs of my assailant.
Not a single one of my belongings was out of place. It was as though Max was a ghost, not the corporeal monster who’d bound me to a chair and asked me insane questions about my father and the Russian Bratva.
I am a monster out of your worst nightmares. A shiver raced over my skin as his snarled words played through my mind.
I took a deep breath and focused on the memory of his face, not when he’d snarled at me, but later, just before he’d let me go. His features had softened, and his eyes had dropped from mine as though he couldn’t bear to look at me.
Or he couldn’t bear my eyes on him.
He’d warned me that he was a monster, but at that moment, he’d been a damaged man tormented by regret. His mad scheme had come to nothing, and his despair had been palpable.
Did he regret kidnapping me? Or was he devastated by the fact that I hadn’t confirmed the awful lies he’d said about my father?
I jolted at the thought of my dad. I won’t hurt you, but I have no problem hurting your father, Max had threatened.
A fresh spike of panic sent me rushing back into the living room, searching for my phone. It lay on my glass coffee table, right beside where I’d slept on my couch.
I barely registered a small swell of relief that Max hadn’t violated the privacy of my bedroom before I snatched up my phone. My jaw dropped when the screen lit up. The Notes app was open, and if I’d been tempted to think last night had been a terrible dream, the confirmation of awful reality was emblazoned on my phone: Your security is shit. Set a passcode. I’m not the only monster out here.
My skin crawled, and my eyes darted around the room once again. I rubbed at the back of my neck, trying to alleviate the maddening prickling warning that I was being watched.
Immediately, I opened my security settings and changed them so that my phone unlocked with a six-digit passcode rather than my thumbprint. The iron band around my chest loosened slightly once it was done; Max wouldn’t be able to break into my texts again. No one would be able to access my private messages.
I hastily exited my settings and opened up my messenger, frantically scrolling through the last four texts to my father.
My mouth twisted in a scowl when I noted a couple of one-word responses accompanied by multiple emojis. Max had been able to hold off my father’s concerns with a few smiley faces. My stomach lurched at the sudden, undeniable knowledge that Max had been able to abduct me without anyone realizing I was missing. How long would it have taken for Daddy to suspect that something was wrong?
My boss probably would’ve reached out to him when I didn’t show up to my internship this morning.
My internship! I checked the time, and a thrill of panic fluttered through me. I was going to be late for work!
I shook my head, immediately rejecting the ridiculousness of my concern. I had far worse things to worry about.
Like my father’s safety. Max’s threat against him rang through my mind like an alarm bell.
My fingers found my dad’s contact details and connected before I could take another breath. It only rang twice before he answered.
“Morning, sweetheart.” His voice was warm with pleasant surprise. Not so much as a tense thread of fear for my safety.
My stomach sank. Max truly had orchestrated the perfect crime. Despite the fact that my father had spent the last ten years being overprotective in the extreme, he’d had no idea that I’d been kidnapped last night. My attempts to keep him at a distance so I could live my own adult life had allowed my captor to easily dismiss my dad’s potential concern.
“Daddy!” I couldn’t help the hitch on his name. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah, I’m fine.” His voice suddenly quickened with alarm. “Are you okay?”
“Yes!” I squeaked, the lie popping out immediately as I remembered the second part of Max’s threat: If you tell anyone about this, he will pay the price.
“Allie.” His tone dropped to the stern, warning tone that always made me squirm. “Is something wrong?”
“No, no.” I forced the denial through my constricted throat. “Everything’s fine.” I scrambled for an explanation for my obvious distress. “Um, I’m just running late for work, and I’m worried that it’ll damage the review that Mr. Callahan will send to my university at the end of the summer. What should I say to fix this?”
“It’s not like you to be late.” More heavy disapproval. “What happened?”
“I, ah… I went out with Isabel last night. She’s an influencer, you know. Social media posts on new restaurants and stuff. I, um, had too many margaritas and overslept.” I winced, bracing myself for his censure. Anything was better than telling him the truth and putting his safety at risk, but his long sigh still made my stomach drop. “I know it’s totally unprofessional,” I rushed to continue. “I swear I won’t do it again. Please tell me how I can mitigate the damage?” The last lilted on a high-pitched question, my voice going thin with strain.
“Maybe you should come stay at the house for a little while. I knew it was too soon for you to move out on your own.”
“No!” My refusal was vehement and immediate. I’d been suffocating in that house. I loved my dad, but he’d watched my every move for the last decade. He loved me so much that he’d smothered me, especially after Mom died. He’d only allowed me the freedom to move out on my own two months ago.
“No, I want to stay at my new place,” I pleaded. “This won’t happen again. I just wanted your advice. Please?”
I wanted to hear your voice. I wanted to know that you’re okay.
I locked those worries behind my pursed lips. I didn’t dare breathe a word of my kidnapping to my father. Not with Max’s threats against him still echoing clearly in my mind.
Another heavy sigh. “Okay, sweetheart. You don’t have to come home. You’re young, and it’s normal for you to make mistakes. Just make sure you learn from this one.”
“Yeah, totally,” I rushed to respond. “I’ll never do this again. Trust me, I feel awful.” Mentally and physically.
“I can call Mike,” he offered.
“No!” I burst out again, my cheeks already burning with mortification. I’d be humiliated if Daddy called my boss to smooth things over. This summer was about proving myself, and I’d rather stagger into work drunk than have him call Mr. Callahan, his friend and former colleague.
“No, but thanks,” I added, struggling for calm. “This is my mess, and I need to handle it on my own. I was just hoping you could give me some advice. I’ll take responsibility for running late, but I can’t tell Mr. Callahan that I’m hungover. That’s unprofessional.”