The Buchanan's Redemption(6)

“I wouldn’t know what kind of girl you’re accustomed to but I can safely say I am nothing like a girl who would have anything to do with you.”

“Strong words. And what have I done to earn such a low opinion?” he asked, curious.

“You own Malvagio and you threatened to rip my tongue out. Need I say more?”

He laughed. “I’ve done far worse than own a stake in a club and apologize for my brash words earlier. But surely I haven’t earned your low opinion on such flimsy points. What do you think I’ve done that’s so inexcusable? Need I remind you that I took you from a bad situation — a situation you put yourself into by sneaking into my club where you plainly don’t belong — and I’m currently seeing to your care. I know I’m a little rusty in the good guy department but last I heard those are hardly the actions of someone deserving of your disdain.”

“Spare me,” she said, pushing away the food, even though she looked hungry enough to eat her blankets. “I know all about you Vince Buchanan. The Internet is a wonderful thing and you haven’t been exactly covert in your actions. I always thought you had a certain arrogance and now I know I wasn’t wrong. You think the world revolves around you and you don’t want to listen to anyone who says otherwise.”

He chuckled, but his amusement was only surface deep. Generally speaking, he didn’t care if someone labeled him a devil because in his experience, he was far more suited to reign in hell than serve in heaven. But her venom surprised him. Clearly, she wanted to punish him for something. Not that he hadn’t done enough to warrant such bile but he’d at least like to know from which direction the ire was spitting. “I’m flattered,” he said, enjoying how his control caused her to get carelessly brash. Usually, that was his M.O. Watching someone else suffer from the same driving emotion was enlightening. Now he knew why Nolan was always telling him to calm down. “What’s your name?” he asked. She glared at him, buttoning her lip. He shrugged. “Okay, play hard to get but you’re not the only one with Google fu, little dove. Better yet, I pay people to find me answers. I’ll have your name, your social security number, your address, and if you currently owe any parking tickets within a day and your little show of defiance will get you nothing but my irritation for wasting my time.”

“Let me go. You can’t legally hold me.” He grinned and she startled, openly wary. “What’s so funny? Not even you are above the law.”

Vince dropped his smile. “You’d be surprised what I find myself above and below these days. If you don’t tell me what I want to know, you’ll find a marked difference in my hospitality. Pray you don’t push me beyond my limits of control.”

Her eyes widened and he realized they were a deep shade of blue. “Are you holding me hostage?” she gasped.

“Depends on how you look at it,” he replied. “I prefer to consider you a guest while we sort out this mess you’ve put yourself into.”

“A guest who can’t leave,” she added and he shrugged again. “That’s a prisoner.”

“Well, as cages go, I’d say this is more uptown than the usual fare.”

“A cage no matter how gilded, remains a cage.”

Vince allowed his mouth to curve and his stare to linger on the faint rounded swell of her breasts, knowing she would find his perusal discomforting. But as soon as her cheeks whitened and her fingers tightened with fear and uncertainty, he backed down, though he didn’t know why. This was the time when he ought to use her fear against her to get the answers he sought. But the idea left a bitter taste and he discarded it quickly. He didn’t need to use fear. He had other weapons at his disposal. He gestured to the food. “You should eat. You’ve been through a terrible ordeal and need your strength. If you’d prefer something else, name it and I’ll have it delivered.”

“I’m not hungry.”

“Liar. You’re practically eyeball-fucking that piece of chicken. Swallow your pride and eat for Christ’s sake. The last thing I need is you keeling over in a faint like a Victorian lady with her stays too tight.”

“And why do you care so much about me?” she asked, regarding him as one would a predator with wary caution. Vince swallowed a laugh. She was smart to give him a wide berth. He was known to bite. “You don’t even know me.”

“True enough but you’re going to help me find who did this to you because no one pulls this shit in my club. No one.”

She shivered and lifted her chin. “And why would I help you?”

“Beyond the common thread of human kindness?” He laughed when she graced him with a sour look. “Well, can’t fault a guy for asking. But to answer your question, you’re going to help me because I’m going to make it worth your while. I will pay you for your assistance.”

“Do you Buchanans throw money at every problem?” she asked, disgust leaching into her tone from an unknown source. Did she hold a personal bias against wealth? It wasn’t uncommon but Vince couldn’t imagine how breaking into his club would’ve assuaged her bias in some way. “I hate to break it to you, not everyone can be bought.”

Vince stepped forward and gripped her chin firmly, eliciting a shocked gasp from her gently parted lips. His cock stirred at the most inopportune moment and he had to shove all indecent thoughts from his brain before he did something he regretted more than he regretted purchasing a bar in Philly for sentimental reasons. “Darling, everyone has a price…even you. And I shall enjoy discovering what it will take to bend you to my will.”

She held his stare but her eyes watered as she hissed, “Go. To. Hell.”

He released her chin and walked away. “Already there, little dove. Already there.”





-5-




Emma stared at the chicken and her mouth watered, betraying her hunger but she wouldn’t eat his food. She might’ve totally failed in her mission but that didn’t mean she had to play the happy, coddled prisoner, slurping up his supposed generosity like a lapcat sucking up milk. She plucked at the fine linens, wondering how many women he’d bedded on this very mattress and shuddered in disgust, hating him and men like him who thought they could have whatever they wanted by throwing money at it. Tears burned behind her eyes and she clenched her fists into tight balls to keep from bawling in despair. What was she going to do? First, she needed to get out of this place, which meant, the IV had to go. She carefully pulled the tape securing the IV line from her wrist and then squeezed her eyes shut as she slid the needle free from her vein. A spurt of blood followed and she quickly pressed down on the vein, grimacing as a brief flash of pain followed. Her body protested with sharp agony as she climbed from the bed but she breathed against the onslaught, determined to find a way out of this place. Vince Buchanan could not keep her if she didn’t want to stay. And she planned to walk right out that front door, whether she was dressed or not.

But just as she took a few wobbly steps forward, Vince reappeared in the doorway, catching her off guard and she faltered with a cry, stumbling against the bed as her knees gave out. “Noooo,” she wailed, hating how weak she was and how her body refused to cooperate. “Let me go!” she cried when Vince immediately scooped her into his arms and returned her to the bed with a dark scowl.

“What is wrong with you?” he asked. “You’re injured and you can’t possibly make it to the hallway much less down the street to hail a cab. Not to mention, you don’t have a way of paying for said cab even if you managed to catch one. Stop being such an irritating twit and stay put. Rescuing women is not my forte. I suggest that you stop pushing my boundaries. I’m not known for my patience or my kindness.”

“I know exactly what you’re known for,” she whispered, hating his logic and hating him even more for being right.

“Which is?”

“You and I both know. You don’t need to hear me say it.”

“On the contrary, I’d love to hear you say it. In fact, I insist.”

“Go fuck yourself.”

“What if I’d rather fuck you?” he countered, plainly enjoying her discomfort. He leaned forward, invading her space. “You’re a beautiful woman,” he observed, his casual tone belying the sudden hunger radiating from his body. “I prefer a little more meat on the bones but in spite of your tiny body, your tits are quite plump. More than a nice handful. I suspect they’d taste like ambrosia in my mouth.”

“Stop it,” she demanded, though her voice shook. “You’re disgusting.”

“I can be,” he agreed easily, taking no offense much to her dismay. “My appetites are varied and voracious. One doesn’t satisfy such a hunger like mine with the same menu over and over. I require variation and lots of it.”

She knew all about Vince’s appetites. In her research, she’d stumbled across a supposed private video of Vince as he “vetted” one of the hostesses. The video was key in her evidence against the club, alleging that the proprietors used the “casting couch” to hire their hostesses. She was horrified to admit that watching the video had been shamefully arousing. Vince Buchanan was powerfully built and genetically blessed in all ways, she thought bitterly. Was it any wonder he’d gleefully taken every advantage given to him? God, she needed to get away from Vince. She’d been stupid and naïve to go half-cocked and unprepared for contingencies but she’d been so anxious to get the ball rolling that she’d ignored that little voice of reason that’d cautioned her to wait. Tears welled in her eyes. “I want to go home,” she said. “Let me go home.”