Chapter 3 Chapter 3
Chapter Three
Nina’s POV
Strong arms wrapped around my waist and yanked me back inside.
One second there was nothing but air and the rush of the wind in my ears. The next, my back slammed into a hard chest, my legs swinging above the floor.
I gasped, fingers clawing at thick forearms as the window frame moved away from me.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” a deep male voice growled right against my ear.
My heart nearly jumped out of my chest.
I kicked out on instinct. My heel caught nothing but air.
“Let me go!” I yelled. “I was… I was…”
“About to break your neck on the lawn,” he cut in. “Great escape plan, princess.”
He pulled me away from the open window with annoying ease, like I weighed nothing. The window swung a little in the breeze behind us, letting in sea air and the faint crash of waves.
He turned me around in his arms until I was facing him.
It was one of the three men from the house. The one in the black leather jacket.
Up close, he looked even bigger. His shoulders were broad, his chest solid under the jacket pressed against me.
Dark stubble shadowed his jaw. There was a faint scar cutting through one eyebrow, making his face look even more dangerous.
His eyes were a strange color. Somewhere between brown and gold. They swept over my face, down my body, then back up again, taking in the oversized T-shirt, my bare legs, my shaking hands.
“Cute,” he said flatly. “Trying to jump out the window five minutes after you wake up. We’re going to have fun with you.”
Anger flared under my terror.
“You kidnapped me,” I snapped. “What did you expect me to do? Say thank you?”
His lips tugged into a lazy, mocking half-smile.
“First of all,” he said, “if you’re going to run, at least know what you’re running into.”
He nodded toward the window with his chin.
“This house is covered with cameras,” he went on. “Inside, outside, roof, yard, everywhere. There are more bodyguards around the property. And even if you somehow manage to sneak past all of that and get to the beach…”
He tilted his head, watching my face.
“Do you have a boat?”
I swallowed. “I can swim,” I shot back quickly.
His smile widened just a little, eyes heating as they stayed on my face.
“Feisty,” he murmured. “I like.”
His voice dipped on that last word, and it sent a stupid shiver down my spine.
I shoved at his chest again. “Let me down.”
He held me one second longer, like he was deciding whether to obey. Then he made a small sound in his throat and slowly lowered me to the floor, his hands sliding down my sides to my waist before he stepped back.
My bare feet touched the rug. The room felt suddenly bigger without his body pressed to mine, but my skin buzzed where his fingers had been.
I straightened my shirt and lifted my chin.
“Who changed my outfit?” I demanded. “I went to sleep in a dress.”
He arched a brow, unimpressed by my tone.
“Relax,” he said. “You’re not a princess here. We’re not ripping your clothes off while you’re unconscious.”
He jerked his thumb toward the hallway.
“We have female staff. They’ll handle your… lady needs. Your father made sure of everything.”
Something twisted in my chest at the mention of my father. I bit it back.
“Where is my phone?” I asked. “I need to speak with him. Now.”
“Oh, that?” He reached into the pocket of his jacket, then stopped and shook his head with a small smirk. “Right. Forgot. It’s with your father.”
My stomach clenched. “Give it back.”
“No phones allowed,” he said. “Not until we’re sure the coast is clear and we’re not being tracked. You or us.”
“The coast?” I echoed. “You think anyone is tracking me?”
He gave me a look. “People tried to shoot you at a burial, sweetheart. I’d say tracking is the least of our worries.”
My throat burned. I stumped my foot on the rug like a frustrated child and hated myself for it.
“This is insane,” I muttered. “You can’t just cut me off from the whole world.”
He ignored my little stomp. He was busy lighting a cigar.
He pulled a lighter from his pocket, flipped it open, and lit the small brown cylinder between his lips.
The flame briefly lit the lines of his face, making him look even more like a villain from some late-night movie.
He took a long drag, cheeks hollowing, then blew out the smoke in a slow stream away from me. It curled in the air, pale and thick, before drifting toward me anyway.
I coughed, waving a hand in front of my face.
He chuckled, low and amused.
“Care for some?” he asked, holding the cigar out like he was offering me a piece of candy.
“Over my dead body,” I hissed.
His eyes glinted. “Let’s not make that a goal, huh?”
I glared at him.
He took another drag, then nodded toward the door.
“Come on,” he said. “You should eat.”
I folded my arms. “No.”
He paused. “No?”
“I’m not eating anything from beasts like you,” I snapped.
“What if you’re trying to poison me? Or drug me? I don’t trust you. I don’t trust anyone out there, either.”
He watched me for a moment, unreadable.
“Then you starve,” he said simply, and shrugged.
That was it? No threats, no begging, no “for your own good”? Just… then you starve?
“You’re serious?” I asked.
“Very.” He tapped ash into a small glass tray on the dresser. “We’re not your nannies, princess. We’re here to keep you breathing, not to spoon-feed you if you refuse to walk to the table.”
My stomach twisted with empty hunger and pride at the same time.
“Fine,” I muttered. “God, fine. Just… show me my room.”
He looked vaguely amused.
“Are you trying to kick me out?” he asked.
“Yes,” I said flatly.
He dropped the cigar into the ashtray and crushed it out with two fingers, then wiped his hand on his jeans. The faint smell of smoke lingered in the room.
He stepped toward the door and kicked at the light switch with his boot on the way out, flicking off the overhead lights so only the soft daylight from the window remained.
“Follow me,” he said.
I hesitated for a second, then went after him. It wasn’t like I had any other option.
The hallway outside was wide and bright, with polished wooden floors and white walls. Large framed photos and art lined the sides,abstract designs, black and white shots of cities, a few old-looking paintings.
No windows here, but soft lights glowed from recessed fixtures in the ceiling.
I tried not to stare, but it was hard. This place was not some cold underground bunker like I had imagined. It was… beautiful.
We walked past an open space on our left that looked like a living room: huge couch, giant TV, low glass table. Floor-to-ceiling windows showed the ocean outside and let in golden light.
We passed a dining area with a long table and at least ten chairs. The sliding doors behind it led to a deck outside. I could see a glimpse of the beach and more sea beyond.
Outside, the yard held several power bikes lined up like soldiers, their metal glinting. A few expensive-looking cars were parked under a covered area , sleek black machines with tinted windows.
And everywhere, men.
They didn’t stand stiff like my father’s security. They leaned against railings, moved in pairs, walked like they owned the ground. Some wore camo pants and tight T shirts. Others had leather jackets, hoodies, or plain dark shirts. Most had guns slung over their shoulders or strapped to their backs.
I noticed the tattoos again. On arms, on necks, peeking from under collars. Different designs, same dangerous energy.
One of them glanced up as we passed, dark eyes flicking over me just once before returning to whatever he was doing. Another gave the man in front of me a short, respectful nod.
“Who are all these people?” I whispered.
“Bodyguards,” he said. “Like I told you.”
“This feels more like a gang,” I muttered.
He smirked. “Words, princess. Depends who’s paying and who we’re pointing the guns at.”
My skin prickled. I wrapped my arms around myself, trying to hold onto some warmth that wasn’t coming from fear.
The house itself… God. It was not a prison. It was a palace disguised as a prison.
High ceilings. Soft rugs. Warm lighting. The kind of modern luxury you saw in shows about rich people with too much taste and not enough soul.
I hated that I liked it.
I hated that a small part of me thought, This doesn’t look so bad.
I shook the thought away.
I will get out, I told myself. I survived my father for twenty-one years. I can survive this. I will find a way.
We climbed a set of wide stairs with a smooth wooden rail. I counted the floors as we passed.
Ground floor.
First,
Second.
More stairs leading up that we didn’t take.
Five stories, I realized. At least.
He stopped on the first floor and turned down a hallway.
“Your room is here,” he said.
First floor. Not too high.
Thank God, I thought, then mentally slapped myself. I was already planning my next jump and I hadn’t even seen the bed yet.
He stopped at a white door halfway down the hall and pushed it open.
The room inside was the one I had woken up in. Clean. Gray and white. Big bed. Small nightstand. A wardrobe pushed against one wall. A door that probably led to a bathroom.
He stepped aside so I could walk in first.
I did, trying not to show how carefully I was memorizing every corner. The height of the window. The distance to the ground. The way the sun fell on the floor at this time of day. Anything that could help later.
“Are you sure you won’t come out and eat?” he asked from the doorway.
I kept my back to him and shrugged my shoulders.
“I said I’m not hungry,” I muttered.
“Stubborn,” he said.
Before I could turn, I felt his hand smack lightly against my backside.
Not hard. Not painful. Just a sharp, shocking tap right over the curve of my ass.
I froze.
My mouth fell open. Heat rushed to my face, then lower, then everywhere.
“Don’t you dare touch me,” I snapped, spinning around.
He was already stepping back, hands up like he was innocent. That lazy smirk sat on his lips again.
“Be a good girl, Nina,” he said, and winked. “You might find this place less painful.”
Then he turned and walked away down the hall, hands in his pockets like he hadn’t just slapped the daughter of a powerful politician.
I slammed the door shut and locked it, my fingers shaking on the bolt.
Then I slid down until I was kneeling on the cool floor, my back pressed against the wood, breathing hard.
My heart thumped against my ribs like it wanted out. My skin buzzed where his hand had landed.
“Why did that spank oddly feel good?” I whispered to myself while thinking of my next escape.