The Monday after the most embarrassing night of her life blew in with a storm, the skies gray and cloudy, just like Gracie's mood. She'd sat at her desk for hours, working with the determination of a machine, trying to keep her mind off of one thing. Or one person, to be exact.
Mitchell Caldwell.
It wasn't the humiliation that had kept her tossing and turning for the last two nights, but a man she'd only seen for a matter of moments. A few moments that had captivated her to the point of obsession.
Gracie wasn't worried about her reputation or that of her firm. The threat of a lawsuit had squelched the gossip that had been circulating. If anything, business seemed to be up. She'd received a few interesting emails with indecent proposals, a dozen roses with a card that contained a marriage proposal, a singing telegram and a dozen messages from John begging her to return his calls. She'd gotten her partners to pull their accounts from John's bank and invest with a competitor. He'd do anything to get them back as clients. Even apologize. From what she'd heard through office gossip, it wasn't only their accounts that he'd lost since the previous Saturday.
It was petty revenge, but it felt damn good.
Gracie jumped in surprise as a crash of thunder rattled the glass in her office window. Being on the nineteenth floor had never made her feel very safe. The time had gotten away from her, and it was already way past dark. The rain was coming down so hard that she couldn't see two feet outside her window.
She shut down her computer and shoved her files in her briefcase. The Texas weather was too warm for a coat, even a raincoat, so she was thankful that she'd gotten to work early enough that she'd found a parking spot in the garage. Getting soaked to the skin would have just added misery to an already miserable day.
The elevator took her straight to the bottom, not stopping at other floors along the way, as almost everyone in the building had already headed home for the evening. Her heels clicked rapidly on the cement as she made her way to the lone car parked under the yellow light in the far corner, and her hand clutched her briefcase and handbag in a tight grip. Her heart was racing, and she had to squelch the urge to scream every time the thunder boomed overhead. Images of a large glass of wine and a hot bath were the only thoughts in her mind when a hand clamped over her mouth and another wrapped around her waist, effectively clamping her arms to her sides.
Gracie bit at the black-gloved fingers and screamed when he uncovered her mouth, no doubt cursing the pain she'd caused him. The instinct to fight back overtook her and she kicked out behind her, feeling the hard flesh deflect her foot. Her attacker was silent through it all, wearing down her strength patiently as he dodged her blows. It had seemed like she'd been struggling for minutes, but in truth it had only been seconds. Her screams had gone unheard and she was truly alone with an attacker whose strength was far superior to her own.
The last thought that went through her mind before the sickeningly sweet smell of chloroform assailed her nostrils, was that John Johnson would pay for this.
#
Gracie remembered vaguely that she'd ridden in a van. To where, she had no idea, but every detail mattered. When she'd woken again she was lying on something soft, probably a mattress, in a room as black as pitch. She couldn't see anything, but she could still hear the rain pouring outside. Did that mean it was still the same day?
Her mind was fuzzy from the drug and a headache pounded just behind her eyes. She tried to lift her hands up to rub away the pounding, but they were restrained. Panic overtook her, and she had to consciously slow her breathing for fear of hyperventilating and passing out.
Gracie cleared her mind and tried to think of the facts. She'd been on her way home from work when she'd been attacked, she'd been drugged, she'd woken briefly in a van with a hard metal floor, it was still raining and her hands and feet were tied to what she assumed was a mattress. Any way she looked at it, she decided the outcome couldn't be good.
The opening of the door sped her controlled breathing up once again. It wasn't the sound of the door that let her know that someone was in the room with her, but rather the lack of sound. The pregnant silence settled over her like a thick blanket, suffocating her until she wanted to scream just to fill the void.
The footsteps of her captor weighed heavy as he made his way to her side. "Have no fear from me," he said. He knelt beside her on the bed and lifted her head in his hand. The cool water splashed against her lips and she drank greedily. Her mouth felt like it had been stuffed with cotton.
"Slow down," he ordered. "You don't want to make yourself sick. Open your mouth for me."
"Why?"
"I have aspirin for your headache."
When she didn't comply, he stuck his finger through her clamped lips and pried her mouth open, dropping the two pills in. He held her nose and poured the water down her throat until he was sure she'd swallowed them.
"Don't make things difficult on yourself. There is no need for you to be in pain."
"Then untie me," Gracie demanded.
"The bonds do not hurt you," he said, checking the padded restraints just to make sure.
"Someone will look for me," she said. "You can't just take someone against their will and not expect there to be consequences."
"But this is your will, isn't it, Gracie." He whispered the words so they were a caress along her skin.
A satin blindfold was placed around her head, and she almost asked what the point was since it was so dark inside the room, but the she heard the scrape of matches and saw the dim glow of light through her blindfold. Gracie heard a small click and winced as she felt a cold blade glance across her skin. It was sharp as it sliced through her clothing as if it were nothing more than paper. Her suit was tossed aside, no more than trash now, and her undergarments were given similar treatment until she was laid bare before her captor. She let out a breath of relief when she heard another click and the blade was put away.
"Beautiful," he whispered as he ran his finger from the tip of her breast to the top of her thigh. "I'm going to give you a choice, Gracie. We're not strangers. I felt the passion in you from the first moment and knew that we'd be together this way. But if you want what I have to give you, you have to take a chance."
Mitchell
. But what if it wasn't really him? Was she willing to take that chance?
