stronger when she realized there could be only one reason why Vince would demand to see her.
He knew she’d been with Luke yesterday.
Her heart thudded as she followed Tony upstairs, her brain already working through various excuses. He followed me to the Laundromat. I was caught off guard, Vince. I swear, I tried to tell him to get lost, but he kept pushing and—
“There she is.”
Vince’s warm greeting interrupted her frantic thoughts. He was behind the desk again, but rose when she entered the office. His expression revealed no anger. Just pleasure.
Her heartbeat slowed. This wasn’t about Luke, then.
Unless Vince was toying with her, playing nice until he went in for the kill . . . She dismissed the thought. No, that looked like genuine joy sparkling in his eyes.
“I’ve got something for you,” he said, his tone containing that tease of anticipation a lover used when he was about to present you with something special.
Her panic all but disappeared when Vince extended a velvet jeweler’s box in her direction.
Olivia eyed the gift with uneasiness. “What is it?”
“Open it.”
After a second of reluctance, she accepted the box and carefully opened the lid. A flash of silver winked up at her. No, not silver. Diamonds. Resting on the box’s black velvet bed was a sparkling diamond tennis bracelet accented with white gold.
“Wow” was all she could think to say.
“Five carats,” Vince said smugly.
Now she said, “Oh.” Five carats. Of diamonds. On a silly bracelet. She was about to insist she couldn’t accept it, but the practical side of her objected. She could probably sell this thing for a huge chunk of change.
So she met his eyes, feigned delight, and breathed, “Thank you.” For helping me bankroll my escape from you.
His gaze shone with pleasure. “You like it?”
“I love it. Will you help me put it on?”
She started to lift the bracelet from its box, but Vince reached out and snapped the lid. He promptly tucked the box into the inner pocket of his Armani jacket. “You can’t wear it when you dance, babe. Diamonds and G-strings don’t complement each other. I’ll hold on to this until tomorrow night.”
A spark of panic returned. “What’s tomorrow night?”
Displeasure glittered on his face. “Have you forgotten?”
Olivia quickly searched her mind. Tomorrow night. A Thursday. October eighteenth. What was special about October eightee—
“It’s our six-month anniversary,” Vince snapped.
Said the kidnapper to his hostage.
“Of course it is,” she answered, donning a playful look, as if she’d known all along and had only been teasing him. “I just can’t believe you remembered.”
“I remember everything. You know that.”
Yep, and she also knew he wasn’t referring just to his knack for remembering dates.
Message received, asshole .
Olivia managed a smile. “So what are we doing tomorrow?”
“Dinner. At my place.” His tone brooked no argument.
She choked down a wave of sickness. His place? She’d never set foot in his Midtown penthouse. Oh God. That could mean only one thing. He expected her to sleep with him tomorrow. A million excuses burned through her brain, everything from I have my period to I’d rather slit my wrists . But she knew some blood between her legs would only turn him on even more, and the wrist-slitting thing . . . well, he’d probably be the one handing her the razor if she refused to fuck him.
“S-sounds lovely,” she stammered.
He stepped closer and dragged his thumb along her lower lip. His eyelids grew heavy, his features taut with arousal. “It’s what we’ve both been waiting for.” He gave her butt a little pat. “Now get downstairs and change.”
Hiding her terror and disgust, she forced herself to exit the office with calm steps rather than breaking into a dead run. God, she had to find a way out of this. She couldn’t sleep with that man. She felt nauseous just thinking about it.
She
He knew she’d been with Luke yesterday.
Her heart thudded as she followed Tony upstairs, her brain already working through various excuses. He followed me to the Laundromat. I was caught off guard, Vince. I swear, I tried to tell him to get lost, but he kept pushing and—
“There she is.”
Vince’s warm greeting interrupted her frantic thoughts. He was behind the desk again, but rose when she entered the office. His expression revealed no anger. Just pleasure.
Her heartbeat slowed. This wasn’t about Luke, then.
Unless Vince was toying with her, playing nice until he went in for the kill . . . She dismissed the thought. No, that looked like genuine joy sparkling in his eyes.
“I’ve got something for you,” he said, his tone containing that tease of anticipation a lover used when he was about to present you with something special.
Her panic all but disappeared when Vince extended a velvet jeweler’s box in her direction.
Olivia eyed the gift with uneasiness. “What is it?”
“Open it.”
After a second of reluctance, she accepted the box and carefully opened the lid. A flash of silver winked up at her. No, not silver. Diamonds. Resting on the box’s black velvet bed was a sparkling diamond tennis bracelet accented with white gold.
“Wow” was all she could think to say.
“Five carats,” Vince said smugly.
Now she said, “Oh.” Five carats. Of diamonds. On a silly bracelet. She was about to insist she couldn’t accept it, but the practical side of her objected. She could probably sell this thing for a huge chunk of change.
So she met his eyes, feigned delight, and breathed, “Thank you.” For helping me bankroll my escape from you.
His gaze shone with pleasure. “You like it?”
“I love it. Will you help me put it on?”
She started to lift the bracelet from its box, but Vince reached out and snapped the lid. He promptly tucked the box into the inner pocket of his Armani jacket. “You can’t wear it when you dance, babe. Diamonds and G-strings don’t complement each other. I’ll hold on to this until tomorrow night.”
A spark of panic returned. “What’s tomorrow night?”
Displeasure glittered on his face. “Have you forgotten?”
Olivia quickly searched her mind. Tomorrow night. A Thursday. October eighteenth. What was special about October eightee—
“It’s our six-month anniversary,” Vince snapped.
Said the kidnapper to his hostage.
“Of course it is,” she answered, donning a playful look, as if she’d known all along and had only been teasing him. “I just can’t believe you remembered.”
“I remember everything. You know that.”
Yep, and she also knew he wasn’t referring just to his knack for remembering dates.
Message received, asshole .
Olivia managed a smile. “So what are we doing tomorrow?”
“Dinner. At my place.” His tone brooked no argument.
She choked down a wave of sickness. His place? She’d never set foot in his Midtown penthouse. Oh God. That could mean only one thing. He expected her to sleep with him tomorrow. A million excuses burned through her brain, everything from I have my period to I’d rather slit my wrists . But she knew some blood between her legs would only turn him on even more, and the wrist-slitting thing . . . well, he’d probably be the one handing her the razor if she refused to fuck him.
“S-sounds lovely,” she stammered.
He stepped closer and dragged his thumb along her lower lip. His eyelids grew heavy, his features taut with arousal. “It’s what we’ve both been waiting for.” He gave her butt a little pat. “Now get downstairs and change.”
Hiding her terror and disgust, she forced herself to exit the office with calm steps rather than breaking into a dead run. God, she had to find a way out of this. She couldn’t sleep with that man. She felt nauseous just thinking about it.
She
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