LONDON'S POINT OF VIEW
Dunbar kicked me in the ribs.
I collapsed, clutching my side and coughing up my lungs. I didn't scream in pain, refusing to give him that satisfaction. Besides, no sound would have come out anyway—I couldn't stop coughing.
As I failed to get back up, he rushed toward me again.
"Dunbar."
A powerful voice came from behind me, full of authority.
Dunbar stepped back, his hands at his sides.
"I was just helping the bitch get up."
"I'll handle it."
Crewe appeared above me, wearing a grey suit and a black tie.
"Get the helicopter ready."
He dismissed Dunbar with a cold look.
Dunbar knew he had done something wrong, because he left without another word.
When he was a few meters away, Crewe called him back.
"Dunbar."
He turned around and looked his employer in the eye.
"Don't ever touch her like that again."
Crewe didn't raise his voice, but the threat in his tone was unmistakable.
Even I felt afraid of him.
Dunbar nodded.
"I'm sorry, sir. I was just trying to—"
"If she causes trouble, come get me. You can leave now."
Dunbar fell silent and walked away, his shoulders stiff.
Crewe knelt beside me and examined me, touching the skin of my ribs.
"Your ribs aren't broken. Just bruised."
"And I'm supposed to be grateful?"
I sat up, rubbing my throat.
He reached for my chin and gently tilted my head to examine my neck.
"You'll be fine."
"I know," I snapped defensively. "I never said I wouldn't be."
Crewe had just helped me, but I was angry at him. And I was angry at myself for letting a man treat me like that. I should have defended myself better. I should have broken Dunbar's nose the moment he touched me. But in my position, on the ground, it had been impossible.
"You remind me of myself sometimes."
He pulled his hand back, watching me with the same irritated expression he had given Dunbar.
"We both hate showing weakness."
"I'm not weak…"
I massaged my throat and coughed again.
"I never said you were."
He stood to his full height and offered me his hand.
"Now get up. If I have to repeat myself, I'll be worse than Dunbar."
That made me furious.
"You just reprimanded him for hurting me, but you're saying you'll be worse?"
It made no sense.
"You belong to me," he said quietly. "I'm the only one allowed to punish you. It's like children—only parents should spank them. Now move, or I'll drag you back by your hair. What do you prefer?"
I knew Crewe wasn't bluffing this time. He had slapped me before and grabbed my neck without hesitation. There were limits he wouldn't cross—but there were many he would.
I stood up and cleared my throat, still sore from Dunbar's grip.
Crewe stepped back, satisfied with my obedience.
"Finley will make you tea."
I crossed my arms as I walked beside him.
"Why do you want me to go inside?"
"We're leaving for Glasgow. I have business there."
I stopped abruptly.
"And I'm coming with you."
"Yes."
I was leaving the island. Once in Scotland, I would try to escape. There would surely be an embassy or a police station that could help me. Even if I was in another country, I had been kidnapped—and they would be obliged to help me.
Crewe read the expression in my eyes.
"You're not going to run away, sweetheart. You can try. But don't forget: if you fail, there will be serious consequences."
He looked at me with his mocha-colored eyes and spoke in a threatening voice.
"I'm not going to tell you what they are. I'll let your imagination do all the work."
I wrapped my arms around myself as a shiver ran down my spine. Despite his tone, I was determined. If I didn't try when I had the chance, I would regret it for the rest of my life. Even if he destroyed me for it, it would be worth it.
I just had to be smart—and run.
Crewe continued walking, his suit framing his sharp, sculpted body. Now that I had seen him naked, I knew what was beneath those tailored clothes. He was a lean, powerful mass of muscle I liked to dig my nails into. My feelings toward him were completely contradictory. I was attracted to him, I wanted him, and I hated him at the same time.
How was that even possible?
He entered the house, and I noticed the bags by the door.
"I packed your things," Finley said. "Dunbar can bring more clothes to Glasgow if you need them."
"Thank you, Finley."
He was the only person in that house who made me smile.
"Finley," Crewe said in his authoritative tone. "Make lemon tea for Lady London, please. She has a sore throat."
"Of course," Finley said. "With milk?"
"No," Crewe replied, remembering how I took my coffee.
Finley busied himself in the kitchen while Dunbar carried the bags to the black helicopter. Crewe's phone rang, and he answered in the living room, speaking quietly so we couldn't hear.
Finley handed me a plastic cup with a lid.
"There you go, Lady London."
"Thank you."
The tea was too hot to drink, but I held it anyway.
Finley glanced toward the living room to make sure Crewe was still there, then whispered:
"Mr. Donoghue is not what he seems. Life hasn't always been kind to him."
I stared at Finley, forgetting the tea in my hands.
"What do you mean?"
Finley looked guilty, as if he had said too much.
"He hasn't had an easy life, Lady London. He carries a lot of resentment… a lot of bitterness. He tries to convince himself he is as evil as his enemies… but he never truly is. He has a lot of compassion that he hides."
"What happened to hi—"
I stopped as Crewe came out of the living room. He had finished his call. I pretended we were talking about something else.
"Thank you for the tea."
"You're welcome, Lady London."
Finley bowed slightly and left.
Crewe approached me, his face marked with displeasure. Then he grabbed my wrist firmly.
Not violently like Dunbar—no. Controlled. Dominant.
He pulled me toward the helicopter.
"Don't stick your nose where it doesn't belong."
He stopped and yanked me closer. His grip didn't loosen.
"Understood?"
I didn't correct him or mention that Finley had brought it up first—I didn't want the kind old man to suffer Crewe's anger.
"There's nothing wrong with wanting to know more about the man who kidnapped me."
His hand moved to my neck, his lips almost touching mine.
Heat rushed through my body.
"Understood?"
I didn't answer immediately.
The helicopter engine started. The blades spun faster and faster.
"Yes."
I obeyed willingly.
"Yes, sir."
I immediately regretted saying it.
"You're lucky I accepted that yes. Don't push it."
His eyes flicked across my face. Then he kissed me.
Hard.
His hand tangled in my hair, pulling me closer as his lips crushed mine.
I didn't pull away.
Because I liked it.
The kiss lasted only seconds, but it felt endless. Then he pulled back, still holding my hand, and led me to the helicopter.
"Let's go, sweetheart.
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