He narrows his eyes. “Girls like you are on those ships for one reason and one reason only; we both know what that is.”

Oh.

He.

Did.

Not.

“I beg your pardon?” I whisper, feeling my hands shaking.

“Pirates like Hendrix don’t keep women on their ships. There’s only one purpose for them, and that’s to fuck.”

I feel my body begin to quake. He has no idea. No idea that I never, not once, fucked one person on Hendrix’s ship. He has no idea that I have never willingly had sex. He has no idea that the idea of being called someone’s whore is enough to break every strength I’ve built up inside me.

“You. Know. Nothing. About. Me,” I bite out.

His eyes flare. “I know enough.”

“You’re so cocky, aren’t you?” I snap. “So damned sure of yourself. You think you know how this is going to go down. You think you have picked the right person to make Hendrix come to you. If I’m just a whore, asshole, then what purpose would he have to come after me?”

His face tightens and he lashes out, curling his fingers around my shoulder. He hurls me close, lifting me off the ground so I’m dangling in front of him.

“I’ve had enough of your loud mouth. This is your last warning, girl. Shut it or I’ll shut it for you.”

I launch my knee up, hitting him right in the groin. It’s a surprise attack, but it works. He drops me and I tumble to the ground. He takes two steps back, his eyes wide with rage and his mouth tight with pain. I spin on my heel, and come crashing into two hard forms. I scream with frustration and kick out, but it’s pointless. The tall dark man has my shoulders and, in his grips, I can’t move.

Dimitri storms over, taking hold of me and spinning me around. “Will you not learn?” he demands.

He nods to the tall dark man, and in a second I find myself being dragged to the bed. The man drops me onto it, and lifts my arms, raising them above my head and handcuffing me to the headboard.

I lose it.

The feeling of being tied and restrained has everything coming back. It has all those fears I had locked away raising their ugly heads. I scream loudly, and twist my body, trying to avoid his grasps as he takes my ankles.

“Let me go,” I screech. “Please don’t tie me up. Please, I’m begging you. I’m sorry, please let me go.”

Tears tumble down my cheeks, and I close my eyes, shoving back the memories that threaten to rise.

“Stop screaming. If you scream, I’ll only make it hurt.”

I shake my head from side to side, murmuring words I don’t even understand. I tug my wrists—nothing. I tug my ankles—nothing. I screech again, pleading, begging, knowing that I make no sense.

“Silence,” Dimitri orders.

“Please,” I sob. “Don’t tie me up. Please don’t tie me up.”

He begins to walk toward me, his expression angry, when I growl, “Don’t come near me. Please, not while I’m restrained. Don’t. Please. Don’t.”

His eyes flicker with something I don’t recognize. It’s almost like . . . he understands.

“I told you what would happen if you tried to escape,” he hisses, clenching his fists like he’s trying to hold back.

“Please, I won’t do it again. I beg of you, undo me. Please.”

“I can’t do that,” he says in a hoarse whisper before turning and walking toward the door.

“Please!” I scream so loudly it hurts my own ears. “Don’t do this to me. I can’t breathe like this. Please . . . don’t . . . don’t tie me . . . please . . . I’ll do anything, just don’t tie me.”

His body flinches, but he doesn’t turn back. He simply orders the two men to watch me, and then he steps out and slams the door.

And I break down.

CHAPTER THREE

Dimitri

I can hear her screaming, and the sound pierces my heart. I want to fuckin’ go in there and stuff something in her mouth, but more than that, something inside me is urging me to let her go. The screams, they’re not just those of a prisoner. I’ve had prisoners, and this one is different. She’s not afraid; she’s been strong, and tough, and mouthy. Then I tied her.

And she broke.

Like me.

Broken.

Was it that bastard Hendrix? Did he hurt her? Rape her? Tie her in a cell? Is that why she’s so afraid? Her cries are those of a damaged person. Of a person who has lived through that kind of soul-crushing pain. Her eyes were frantic, darting around, pleading with me to let her go. I wanted to, for a small moment, but then I remembered why I have her, and I knew I had to walk away.

I can’t grow soft.

It’s not an option.

I close my eyes, lifting my crystal glass to my lips and shooting back the straight whiskey. Fuck her for making me question myself on the first day. That’s what she’s done. She made me question this entire plan. She’s not his lover—that much I have figured out. But she’s important to him; I saw it in his eyes. She’s not his kid, she’s too old. Maybe she’s a niece, or a friend. There’s a story there, a story that has made a connection.

I will play on that connection.

I turn and storm across the room, walking to the window and opening it. I shove my face out and try to control my breathing the best I can. I push the panic down, the seizing feeling in my chest, the way my head spins, the way my breathing suddenly becomes difficult. Fuckin’ control it, Dimitri. Don’t break now. You’re better than this, stronger than this. You can’t let this shit beat you.