Dear readers,
To those of you who have been waiting for me to finish what I started ages ago, I owe you an apology: I'm sorry! Particular apologies to those who wrote me direct, who I replied that I would submit new chapters 'soon' ... months ago (Cringe). As per usual this Ch is far from perfect, but I've decided it's better to keep the ball rolling than keep people waiting indefinitely, even if some will be unimpressed/disappointed. But that will always be the case! ;)
Enjoy.
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Click, click, click, click.....
Katie groggily raised to her side and quickly pressed a clammy palm to her forehead as the room spun around her.
"Arrrghh," she groaned, blinking her eyes open. Peering bewilderedly at her surroundings, she lay on an over-sized grey daybed, covered in a thin, forest-green blanket. Despite the cushioned comfort, Katie's mouth was dry, and her whole body ached. Blinding sunlight flooded the room, spilling through large windows framed in white satin. The rays brightly reflected off the ivory walls and stung her tired eyes. She was still barefoot, wearing the same black jumper and jeans from the ranch. The high-ceilinged room was sparsely furnished, but tastefully decorated. A delicate scent of peach drifted about the room, wafting from a large, peach-coloured candle on a glass table close by the daybed. Beside the candle was a large jug of water and a tall, empty glass.
Click, click, click....
Turning to the persistent sound, Katie started as she recognised George sitting behind a desk on the other side of the room, clicking a long silver pen in his hand. Remembering everything, Katie's lush lips parted and closed in speechless horror. Seeing her eyes dart about the room and fix on the door, George spoke softly.
"Two men, right outside," he informed her, gently dropping the pen to the desk with a 'clack'. "They're everywhere." Leaning back in his leather chair, George casually waved a hand as though to circle the building, before smugly folding his arms.
Respectably dressed in a crisp white business shirt and black trousers, he looked very different to the hurried traveller Katie encountered back at the ranch. The desk he sat behind was very wide, sleekly black, and quite ornate. Elegantly sinister. Momentarily distracted by the intricate pattern of the desk legs, she was sharply brought back to the present by George's shiny brown shoes resting beneath, as one began to tap the ground.
"What do you want?" Katie trembled, sitting up straighter to face him. Meeting his eyes, she instinctively pulled the blanket higher to shield herself.
"Why, you, Katie," George answered with mild surprise. "Just yourself." His dark eyes travelled from the rosy flush on her high cheekbones, down her smooth neck, stopping at her chest which was covered by the blanket. "Just you," he repeated, more thickly.
Though he had himself well in control, observing her peaceful slumber had taken its toll. Now those fascinating green eyes were watching him, fearfully wide, and his body warmed with desire. Katie's startled expression reflected an almost childlike innocence, and with dark locks tousled about her face, she looked adorably confused. George contemplatively licked his lips.
"W-where am I?" Katie asked, uneasily watching George's black eyes darken with intensity. Even within the safety of the ranch, their introductory meeting terrified her. Now, she was completely alone with him. His captive.
"One of my more 'out-of-the-way' properties," he smiled, pushing his chair back and rising. Briefly frowning down at the papers on his desk, George made a thoughtful smacking sound with his lips and absently slipped one hand down the front pocket of his black trousers. "I stole you, Katie, and you're not leaving."
Hearing her sharply inhale, he glanced up, fully expecting her to be shaking with fright. Delight mingled with the lust in his eyes as he met her fierce glare. The delicious memory of his first assessment resurfaced; she was going to be fun to tame.
"If you think you can force me to stay with Dom, you're as crazy as he is!" Katie snapped with false bravado, getting into a cross-legged position and wrapping the thin blanket tightly about her.
Now with opportunity to properly observe George, Katie wasn't comforted by the fact that despite being old enough to be her father, he was tall, like Dom, with a solid physique. His shirt was tailored perfectly to fit; the definition of his arms and solid chest unconcealed. George's facial similarity to Dom was what gave Katie the most discomfort. The same features, dark eyes and Mediterranean complexion. Every time she looked at him, she was freshly reminded of all she had suffered at the hands of his son. Unlike Dom, George wasn't handsome, but he carried himself well, and possessed an air of authority by which none would question he was a very powerful man.
"Why don't you call me 'Father'?" George suggested, enjoying her frightened anger.
"There are a lot of things I could call you," Katie muttered bitterly, lowering her head to stare at the daybed's grey velvet, letting dark strands of hair curl about her face. She was angry, but she wasn't stupid. He obviously had a sexual interest in her, and engaging him in conversation might buy her time. The question was, how much time did she have? Were Mark and Cory dead?
George watched the tumble of emotions pass through Katie as her shoulders trembled. Quietly, he closed the distance between them and sat on the daybed's edge. Not hearing his approach, Katie's head jerked up in surprise when his weight added. Observing her efforts to appear unmoved by his presence, a predatory grin broke across George's face. They were less than a metre apart, and he could almost feel her suppressing the panic. A mouse trapped in a corner, warily facing the snake.
"You must be thirsty," he surmised, and turned to pour a tall glass of water from the jug on the nearby table.
Katie hesitantly accepted the glass with an unsteady hand. The liquid wobbled, the glass ridiculously heavy in her weak hold. After considering the wisdom of throwing it in George's face, she raised it to her dry lips with an effort. Nervously placing the empty glass in his waiting hand, she watched him set it back on the table. The clock was ticking, and Katie desperately tried to think of something to say. But her mind was blank with exhausted panic. The flickering candle drew her attention, and she stared past George at the flame directly, wondering how such a pretty, sweet-scented item could make her feel sick to her stomach.
Keeping his feet on the floor, George shifted closer and reached out to indulgently stroke his knuckles down Katie's thigh over the blanket. Fighting the urge to scamper backwards, she stiffened at the contact, his mere touch sending a sharp chill up her spine.
"Are you afraid of me?" he murmured, carefully watching her face.
