Serpent King's Bride: A Dark Mafia Romance Trilogy

After we bought the plant, I dropped Erika off and drove my old clunker back to Nathan’s ritzy neighborhood. It would be totally out of place, but all I cared about was getting back to him–apologizing, offering him what I could as a show of honesty.

I wanted to be with him.

That much had become clear during my coffee with Erika…that he loved me, and that I really was starting to love him. When she’d asked if he was the one, I’d almost instantly said yes, despite the fact that we barely knew each other.

I was smitten.

I needed him to forgive me.

I didn’t bother flipping on the lights as I came inside, the sunset pouring in through the sliding glass door to the patio more than enough to guide the way. I kicked off my shoes, put the peace lily down on the counter, then I called Nathan’s name–as if we were just lovers, like he wasn’t my kidnapper.

“Nathan!” I shouted. “Are you back?”

No answer.

I had just started to believe he really wasn’t here when I heard the most subtle shift in the shadows…and then his voice rumbled out, and my eyes adjusted to find his lean, muscled form sitting on a chair by the stairs.

My heart rate tripled in speed.

He still scared me.

“Abby.”

“I was just…” I trailed off, my voice uneven. “…um…”

In an instant, he was in front of me, his grip ironclad around my wrist. All six feet of lean muscle and barely restrained violence, Nathan could’ve just killed me right then and there.

But he didn’t. That wasn’t what he wanted.

Instead, he pulled me along without a word, his eyes dark pools I couldn’t read. He moved toward the garage door and swung it wide open, then we descended, stark fluorescent lights flickering on.

“Are you going to punish me?” The words slipped out.

Nathan didn’t answer as he propelled me forward. The concrete floor was cold under my bare feet, and the echo of our steps was a grim drumbeat to where this was headed. For a fleeting second, I entertained the thought that he might, in fact, actually kill me. The idea wasn’t entirely far-fetched. Punishment was one thing, it was almost exciting; death was another realm entirely.

“Wait, Nathan, I just—I need to talk to you,” I pleaded, trying to reason with him.

“Quiet.” The single word was a command, brooking no argument, and it snapped my mouth shut.

His hold didn’t loosen. I reminded myself that beneath the tough exterior was a mind that had dissected philosophy at Stanford. There had to be a sliver of reason there, a hope I clung to like a lifeline. Nathan had layers, and if I could peel them back, maybe we’d both survive.

We rounded the side of his car to the other side, where a sleek black Mercedes waited, gleaming in the bright white lights. He stopped me beside it as if I should know what the hell this was–and I looked up at him, hesitant.

“What’s this?” I asked, my voice steadier than I felt.

Nathan fished out a set of keys from his pocket and tossed them at me. I caught them reflexively, the cool metal biting into my palm.

“Since you can’t seem to stay put,” he began, the edge in his voice cutting through the night air, “you might as well look the part when you disobey me.”

I frowned, confused but catching on. “You’ve been tracking me?”

“Of course, I have.” His gaze was unyielding as it bore into me. “Every move you make, Abby, I’ll know about it. You want to play house? Then let’s play it properly.”

I blinked, unable to process what he was saying.

“Is this…are you giving me a car?” I stammered, the weight of the keys in my hand suddenly feeling like a shackle rather than a luxury.

Nathan sneered, a cruel twist to his lips that didn’t reach his predatory eyes. “Yeah, I’m giving you a car, Abby.”