by Sofia Daniel
Henry drew back and placed his large hands on my shoulders. A puzzled frown wrinkled his brow, but his eyes shone with warmth. “You were worried?”
I swallowed back the lump in my throat. “I-I thought they’d killed you. What happened?”
He let out a long, weary breath and guided me back to the mattress. The weight of his body created that effect where I fell onto his side, but instead of scrambling away as usual, I savored the closeness.
He wrapped his arm around my shoulder, bringing me even closer. My sinuses had long become accustomed to the stench of must and mold and marijuana, but what was left of Henry’s mint and citrus scent filled my heart. He was here. This was real.
“They were asking about the department store,” he said.
“Why?”
“Apparently, they’re planning on robbing it while everyone’s distracted by the kidnapping. They showed me plans of every floor, footage they’d taken with their phones, and even diagrams. Then they asked question after question about its security.”
“Oh no.” I shuddered. “What did you say?”
“What I’d been trained to do in a situation like this: I revealed everything.”
Resting my head on his chest, I wrapped my arms around his middle and listened to his slow heartbeat. “I don’t get it.”
“Our security consultant told us that some of the questions are rigged to see whether you’re telling the truth. If they catch you in a lie, they’ll extract the next answers with violence. He showed us some examples of famous kidnappings, and what could go wrong.”
“Like Stockholm syndrome?”
“Yes.” He drew back and brushed a strand of hair off my face and stared at me with bloodshot, green eyes. Tears gathered in mine at the thought of something terrible happening to Henry. “You’ve been crying.”
My bottom lip trembled. “I didn’t know if you were alive or dead.”
A smattering of golden stubble covered his chin, giving him the kind of rugged look that made the butterflies in my stomach flutter. The corner of his full lips lifted, and my heart melted into goo.
“I thought you hated me,” he murmured, his gaze never leaving my own.
“It’s the other way around.” I slid my arm across his broad back. “You and your friends hate me because I’m American.”
He shook his head. “Edward is the only one who might take issue with your nationality.”
“Might?”
“He mostly wanted to humble you.”
I shook my head. Did Rudolph think I’d have a difficult time at a British boarding school because the students would think I was an arrogant American? They certainly hadn’t used that word to describe Marissa on our first day. I’d demonstrated that I wasn’t loud or brash. What had there been to dislike?
“And the girls?” I asked.
“You’re a threat. We’ve all known each other since we were eleven.” He paused, seeming to work out how to phrase what he was going to say next. “It’s taken years to settle into our roles, and Charlotte’s popularity took an upturn when she developed those breasts.”
“Really?” I rolled my eyes at their shallowness.
“We’d had newbies before, but none of them made an impact. But then you waltz in….” His eyes roamed the length of my body, and he licked his lips. “Looking like a model and putting every sixth former to shame. The girls had to keep you from breaking up the relationships they’d worked so hard to build.”
“Model?’ I spluttered, but warmth flooded my cheeks and the look in Henry’s eyes woke the butterflies in my stomach again. “That’s my Mom, not me.”
He leaned his face closer. “Genetics.”
I drew back, unable to believe his words and the way his saying them made me feel. “What does that even mean? Half the girls in my prep school look better than me. I don’t even wear makeup!”
“Imagine what would happen if you actually made an effort to flirt. Charlotte and her friends wanted to keep you off-kilter because they couldn’t compete. You could have any man in Elder House. Even those like Edward, who considered you a threat.”
My lips trembled. There were lots of pretty girls at Mercia Academy. Charlotte wasn’t even the best looking. Nothing Henry said made sense. “What about you?”
“I don’t find you threatening in the least.” He cupped my cheek and lifted my chin. Our eyes locked again, and for a heartbeat, time stood still. Nothing mattered except Henry and the intensity of his gaze… until he lowered his lips onto mine.
The kiss was soft at first, a slight caress of lips. Tentative, as though Henry was asking permission with his mouth instead of with words. His warm, familiar mint and citrus scent engulfed my senses, and I tilted my head back, parted my lips, silently telling him I wanted more. We’d become so close in the past few days, locked together in the room with only ourselves for company. He was different from his friends, kinder, more humble, relatable, and I could trust him. I needed this kiss. I needed Henry.
With a hum of approval, he threaded his fingers through my hair and ran his tongue along the seam of my lips, making me gasp. All thoughts of the triumvirate, the kidnapping, and even the squalor of the room melted away, and it was just me and Henry and my desperate desire for him to deepen our connection. His tongue caressed mine, the pleasurable sensations sending tingles to my pulsing core. I pressed my thighs together and writhed.
Henry lowered me onto the mattress, resting my head on one of the bundles of jackets we used as pillows. The weight of his body on mine and the arms around my back acted as the blanket of safety and warmth I craved. I ran my fingers over the corded muscles of his neck and arched onto his chest. Somehow, he’d positioned his legs between mine, and now his thick erection ground at my core, sparking bursts of pleasure with each movement. I threw my head back and gasped, then Henry buried his head into my neck, nipping, licking, and sucking at my flesh.
Panting and moaning, I writhed against his hardness, losing myself in a frenzy of pleasure. I dug my fingers into the muscles of his rippling shoulders and shuddered. If he continued like this, I would climax.
“Hobson,” he whispered, voice breathy. “Have you ever?”
The words catapulted me to reality. I curled back into the mattress and examined his flushed features. I dismissed the way his wavy hair curled around his face, framing it like a work of art, and stared into the blown pupils of his verdant, green eyes. If he wanted to ask if I was a virgin, he could spell out the question with words.
With as much deliberation as I could muster, I asked, “Have I ever what?”
He nuzzled my cheek, leaving a trail of kisses and a tingling sensation in his wake. “Have you ever had sex?”
I slapped him hard on the chest. Things were going too far, too fast. ‘If you believe I’ll have my first time with no protection and on a filthy mattress with my worst enemy, you can think again.” I tried to push him off, but he was too heavy. “Get off me.”
Henry drew back, cheeks adorably flushed. “I’m not your worst enemy. That’s Charlotte Underwood.”
I sat up and glared into my lap. How the hell did I go from resenting Henry for doing nothing while his friends bullied me, to rutting against his erection like it was the last dick on earth? This kidnapping had turned my judgment upside-down. A week ago, or however many days they’d kept us here, I would never have even considered flirting with Henry, let alone kissing him.
“Hobson,” he said, still out of breath.
“What?”
“Did I do something wrong?”
“I don’t know,” I snapped, fixing my gaze on his heaving chest. “Did you?”
“I don’t follow.”
I turned to him, heart thrumming, stomach tightening with anticipation. “If we get out of here, and Edward decides to pull another of his stunts, what would you do?”
He paused and drew his brows together. “I’d ask him to stop.”
“Why?”
“I didn’t know you before.
” He placed a hand on my shoulder and massaged a path of relaxation up my neck. “It’s hard to explain the friends you make at schools like Mercia. We live with each other most of the year, eat, study, and play together. The relationships can run deeper than family. Your friends are the ones who see you through your hardest times, not the housemaster or your parents.”
I tilted my neck to the side, giving him better access. “Go on.”
“When you came, you were a stranger. Beautiful and fascinating, yes, but not someone I’d want to jeopardize a friendship I’d built for over half a decade.”
I shrugged him off. “It’s all right. I understand.”
“Once Edward gets to know you, he’ll back off.”
“And the girls?”
“They want to marry rich. Most of them are that way inclined.”
“I’m not, and neither is Rita.”
He smiled and reached for my other shoulder. “I know that, now.” His fingers made quick work of my tense muscles. “You have a well of inner strength I’ve never seen in another person, and it’s more intoxicating than your beauty.”
Henry lowered his lips onto mine, and I let my eyes flutter shut.
The key turned in the lock, and the door cracked open. “Good news, Bourneville. Your father paid the ransom. It’s time to go.”
Chapter 14
All the blood drained from my face into my spasming heart. I drew in a sharp breath, only for it to catch at the top of my lungs. They’d said Henry could go, not me. What happened to my ransom? Were the photos enough to convince Rudolph that I’d been captured? I clutched my hands to my chest. Or maybe he didn’t care.
Henry wrapped his arm around my shoulder. “I’m not leaving without Hobson.”
The taller of the kidnappers stepped into the room. “Don’t be stupid. We’ve got the money. Now, we’re holding our end of the bargain.” He hooked his thumb over his shoulder. “Out.”
“No,” Henry snapped.
My breaths became shallow, my shoulders rose around my ears, and my elbows tucked into my sides. They wanted to keep me here on my own, where I would go insane from being cooped up without Henry’s company. If Rudolph didn’t pay whatever they’d asked, the kidnappers might take out their frustrations on my body and send the photographic evidence to his office.
The larger kidnapper wrapped a hand around Henry’s wrist and yanked him to his feet. Although there wasn’t much of a height difference between the two men, Henry’s frame was broader and more athletic. He swung his fist into the other man’s jaw, making his head rock back.
With a pained roar, the man shouted, “Loki!”
I stiffened. They’d just given up something else to add to my collection of facts.
As Loki rushed inside to help his friend, I looked around for a suitable weapon. Tables, empty wardrobes, drawers and other massive furniture littered the edges of the room, but nothing I could wield like a club. Not even a bottle of water.
I picked up the rickety chair and held it over my head. “Get out!”
“Easy.” Loki raised his palms as though I was holding something more dangerous than a chair that looked about to fall apart. He pulled his friend toward the door and backed away. “No one’s getting hurt, alright?”
“I won’t leave until you free Hobson,” said Henry.
The first kidnapper rubbed his balaclava-covered jaw. “Is that what you want me to tell your father?”
“Yes.” Henry lifted his chin. “Either we both leave together, or we both stay.”
A relieved breath shuddered out of my body, and I lowered the chair to the ground. Henry could have walked out of that door and left me to my fate, just as his friends had done the night before the kidnapping. Not only had he remained, but he’d arranged things for his father to pay my ransom, too. My heart made a happy thrum in my chest, and I reached down his arm for his hand. The touch of our fingers sent a jolt of pleasure into my heart, and I stared up into his determined expression.
“Fine.” The kidnapper backed toward the door. “We’ll call Mr. Bourneville, explain the situation, and arrange another ransom drop. If he gets pissed off and calls the police, and if any of my gang is arrested, you and the girl die.”
Henry pulled back his shoulders. “It’s a risk I’m willing to take for Hobson’s freedom.”
The kidnapper shrugged. “It’s your fucking funeral.”
“Wait.” I stepped forward. “What’s happening with Rudolph Trommel?”
“He’s negotiating.” The kidnapper stepped into the hallway. “It’s taking longer because we have to go through a PA, who passes messages onto another PA, who speaks to him and vice-versa.”
The words hit me like a wrecking ball, and I doubled over, holding my hands on my thighs to stay upright.
“How could he?” I gasped out. He wasn’t my father. Wasn’t my anything, but I thought his affection for Mom would have made him want to at least negotiate directly with the kidnappers. My heart twisted into knots, sending an ache straight to my gut.
Mom.
If she’d acted like I wasn’t an imposition to be sent away to school, and if she’d insisted on keeping me close, Rudolph would never have had me sent so far away. If Mom acted like I was precious to her, he would never have relegated my abduction and ransom to an assistant of an assistant. “How much are you asking for?”
He rubbed his chin. “It started off as quarter of a mil. Not as much as with Bourneville here, but he’s a natural-born son, the heir, and worth more.”
I nodded. “What is it now?”
Even in the hallway and with a balaclava over his features, I could see his face twisting into a pained grimace. “He’s negotiated us down to fifty thousand.”
I reared back. Humiliation rippled through my insides, making them shrivel to dust. The engagement ring he bought Mom was reported to be worth ten times that much. “What will you do if he doesn’t pay?”
“No need to answer that,” said Henry. “If my father doesn’t agree to pay that amount, tell them it can come out of my inheritance.”
“We’ll be back soon with news.” The kidnapper shut the door and turned the key.
Henry gathered me into a warm embrace of strong arms and his comforting, minty scent. I leaned against his shoulder, relishing the safety he provided, and breathed hard. Henry had done more for me than Rudolph had in the entire time he’d been dating and married to Mom, and Henry had been my former enemy, not even my stepfather. This time, when the tears gathered in my eyes, I let them flow.
“Shhh,” said Henry. “Rudolph Trommel is a hard man. Anyone who has read his history can gather that he’s a bastard. His decisions are no reflection on you.”
My throat spasmed. “But he’s supposed to love my mom. This kidnapping isn’t something he can hide, and it will come out eventually that he didn’t deem me worth the price of one of his designer watches.”
Henry drew back and swiped a tear from my cheek. “I’m sure he’s keeping this information from her. No mother in the world would prolong a kidnapping to quibble over money.”
“Huh,” I said.
“What was that?”
“She didn’t object when Rudolph decided to send me to England. What if she’s not objecting to these lengthy negotiations?”
He cupped my face with both hands, tilting my head up, so we locked gazes. “You don’t know that, Hobson. Being cooped here in this room is making you fear the worst. Hopelessness is part of being held hostage. I’m sure your mother is either completely ignorant of what’s happened, or on a plane to England to pay your ransom personally.”
The naive optimism of his words made me smile. If I ever got my smartphone back and searched the news, I’d find no pictures of Mom rushing through the arrivals gate at Heathrow airport. She’d be in the society magazines, at some function or a party in the states, wearing a gown worth twice my ransom and acting like her only daughter wasn’t being held by kidnappers.
“Hey.” Henry lowere
d me to the bed and settled us onto the mattress, so my entire left side rested against his body. His chest rumbled as he spoke. “You’re not the only one without a perfect family, and that doesn’t make you less loved.”
“But your father paid your ransom.”
He snorted. “That man is more interested in making his mark on the family legacy than in spending time with his son. The only reason he’s paid my ransom is that he needs someone to manage the businesses after he’s gone.”
I closed my eyes and smiled. Henry was right. Everyone’s lives were a little blighted by family woes. Mom would probably never side with Rudolph when it came to a situation of life or death. Rudolph had likely withheld the information and was just being his usual, hard-nosed self.
Henry told me about the family situations of his other classmates. Edward’s mother died a few months after he joined Mercia Academy, and his father was suffering from an early type of dementia and failing fast. Blake’s father was a violent alcoholic who resented his mother’s relationship with the prince. When they divorced, she married said prince, and his father died in a drink-driving accident that was covered up by the palace. Now, his mother was having an affair with someone else, and the prince was too smitten to divorce her.
I sighed. “Why do people with such unhappy backgrounds inflict pain on others?”
“I had a theory about that,” he rumbled. “When one is too busy enjoying the suffering of others, one has no time to wallow in one’s own misfortune.”
I drew back and glared into his solemn, green eyes. “Is that why you do nothing? For the distraction?”
“Of course not.”
He continued telling me about Charlotte. Her brother had also gone to Mercia Academy, and had emerged as a gambling addict who frequently got himself into trouble with casinos. Their father frittered away the family fortune to bail out his son, but nothing could get him to stop the gambling. Charlotte was both worried and resentful about her brother, but hid it by telling everyone he worked for the Saudi royal family. By the end of the conversation, I had learned more about the triumvirate than I’d had the weeks I’d attended the academy.