Chapter 81

Chapter 81
He walks back to the couch, and for the first time, I notice a camera that’s already been set up.

My stomach tightens.

He grabs the camera stand with one hand and drags it closer to where I am. Adjusting the angle, he makes sure it focuses directly on me. Then he straightens, his gaze locking onto mine over the lens.

“Say cheese.”

I frown harder, but before I can say anything, he clicks the shutter, and the flash nearly blinds me.

“What the hell?”

He ignores me, casually checking the image on the screen. Then, as if discussing the weather, he says,

“Now, will you please take off your top?”

My breath stalls.

My eyes widen, my mind scrambling to process the words that just came out of his mouth. Did he just say that? Or did I imagine it? There’s no way…

“Don’t make me say it again,” he warns, his eyes hardening. “We don’t have much time here.”

“No!” There’s no way I’m putting on a show for him—I’d rather die.

He sighs, rubbing his temples. “I was hoping you’d cooperate.”

Before I can say anything or put up any resistance, he steps away from the camera and moves closer.

I flinch when he gets too close—and almost yelp when he slaps me, hard enough to make my whole face buzz with heat.

A sharp sting blooms across my cheek, radiating down my jaw. My head snaps to the side, and for a second, my vision blurs.

I taste blood, my eyes burning with unshed tears.

“Better,” he murmurs, his voice disturbingly calm. “Now, will you please do as I say? I don’t have time to waste.”

“No!” I grit out, hot, searing tears spilling down my face. “I won’t.”

He exhales heavily, irritation flickering across his face. “Don’t force my hand, darling. It’s not like I’m enjoying this. But if you don’t do as I say, we’re going to have a big problem. And trust me—you don’t want that.”

“Go to hell!” I spit out, once again. There’s no way, I’m giving in to this asshole. No way.

A muscle tics in his jaw.

“Wrong answer.”

I barely have a second to react before his fingers knot into my hair. He yanks hard, forcing my head back, and a sharp cry escapes my lips. My scalp burns, my hands clawing at his wrist, but his grip is unrelenting.

“You really don’t get it, do you?” His voice is low, almost thoughtful. “You think you have a choice?”

I glare up at him, breathing hard. My pulse hammers in my ears, but I refuse to look away. I refuse to let him see fear.

“You do have a choice,” I grind out through clenched teeth. “You can let me go.”

For a second—just a second—something flickers across his face. Surprise, maybe.

Then he laughs. A slow, cold chuckle that makes my stomach churn.

“Cute,” he says, dragging his knife from his belt. He twirls it lazily between his fingers before pressing the flat side against my cheek. “Well, looks like we’re doing this the hard way.”

And in the next second—before I can react—he drags the tip of the knife down my top, shredding it straight through the middle.

My mouth drops open, shock and anger roaring through my veins like molten fire.

Rage spills from my eyes like hot lava.

He smirks.

He fucking smirks at me—that condescending look of his almost sending me over the edge. I lash out, my hands slapping at his arms and shoulders in an attempt to hit him back.

But he just chuckles and steps out of range.

Then he lunges, grabs hold of the tattered fabric of my shirt, and pulls. I yelp, fighting him like a madwoman—until the material finally tears, and a gush of cold air rushes against my skin, leaving me exposed and shaking.

I cross my arms over my chest, but the damage is already done.

My eyes sting as tears fill them, the taste of salt spilling across my lips.

He stares at me—just stares, without speaking—until his gaze eventually slides back to my face.

And I wish, for a moment, that he was blind.

That he was blind and I was deaf.

That he was both, and we could live our separate lives in parallel.

But that is not reality.

This is.

He looks into my eyes, and his are so, so cold.

Although, I see no lust in those eyes. Anything but lust.

I don’t understand him. I don’t understand this.

"Hmm... I guess, he would appreciate the view. But not enough to release my complete payment."

I have no idea what the fuck he's talking about. But I don't care. He can't do this. Not to me. Not to anyone.

Shit. I wish Brian was here. Where the hell is he anyway?

"Missing your man already?" He muses, adjusting the camera once again, not even sparing me a single glance. "Don't worry. He's busy chasing the breadcrumbs."

"Breadcrumbs? What breadcrumbs?" I don't like how he sounds like he knows more than I do.

He smiles, almost politely. "Nothing for you to worry about. Now, enough talking. Get ready for your next shot. Lose the jeans too."