Page 8 of His Bet To Take
But she makes me want to try.
She’s changed everything— as priceless items typically do.
Chapter Four
Mae
Damn him.
Damn my brother.
Damn this island with no way out.
Just… damn.
I also hate myself for not fighting more, for not being angrier, for not trying harder to escape, but here I am, sitting on a bed bigger than my entire apartment, slipping the fine silk sheets between my fingers.
And I find myself thinking, why bother fighting? Why bother trying to get away when I’ll have the best of the best here?
I’ve never had that anywhere else. I’ve never had what Ian is offering.
You’re an insane person for even entertaining this idea. What the fuck, Mae? He kidnapped you. He killed your boss right in front of you.
But he deserved it.
Oh my God, am I really okay with seeing a man get murdered in front of me? Am I… thankful?
“I’m crazy.” I drop my head in my hands as I sit on his bed, wondering how the hell my life became so messy.
I look around the room, sighing to myself. I hate that I love the luxury of it all. And it isn’t just the material things. It’s everything. It’s him too, Ian Roulette, the most mysterious notorious man on the island. He owns everything and it only makes sense he has found a way to own me too.
I love his intensity. He doesn’t even know me and yet, he killed a man who took advantage of me. Why does that turn me on? Why do I want him to do it again?
Why do I want to give him everything?
He opens the door and drapes his jacket across the back of the chair sitting in the corner of the room. There are a few drops of blood on his shirt, but he doesn’t seem to notice or care. It’s as if blood doesn’t even cause him to flinch. It’s just another day.
“Do I get my own room?” I ask, lacing my hands together as he stares outside the window overlooking the ocean.
“No.”
I scoff and jump to my feet. “Excuse me? I think after watching a man get killed and being kidnapped, I have the right to my own space.”
“You have your room.” He spreads his arms out, showcasing the room we are currently in.
“This is your room,” I correct him.
And I won’t say how gorgeous it is. He obviously had a designer. The bed is bigger than a king and fit for an emperor. The four-post bedframe sits against the wall with hooks on the headboard, whatever those are for, and the floors are the color of a rich cherry mixed with bourbon and fire. The walls are painted a greyish blue, masculine, yet elegant. There’s a bookshelf lining the wall in front of the bed, filled to the brim with all the novels a person could dream of, and there’s no TV.
Why aren’t I surprised? I bet he doesn’t watch TV.
He stalks over to me, long determined strides and a dangerous glint in his eyes while the muscle in his jaw ticks. He wraps that damn hand around my throat and forces me to walk backward until my back hits the wall. “This is our room. You’re mine now, Mae. And whatever is mine, is never far from my reach.”
I lift my chin, wanting to show my strength. “I am not yours. I am not property.”
“To your brother you are,” he growls, tilting his head in a way a killer seduces his prey before he strikes. “He offered you up like a piece of meat to clear his name, do you remember that?”
“Of course I remember. I’m not stupid.”