Page 2 of Dirty Sweet Valentine
With a shiver, I pushed the swinging door into the kitchen and flipped the light off and on several times before remembering that most of the office’s lighting was shut off when the alarm was set. I groaned, wishing I’d brought my cell phone with me from my office. I debated for several seconds about returning to get it before deciding I was too lazy. Instead, I pushed the swinging door open, using the dim light it let in to run to the refrigerator before the door shut again.
Unfortunately, a brief scan of the contents of the fridge said it had been cleaned out recently. I found nothing edible beyond a jar of maraschino cherries, sardines, and several cans of tomato juice. I’d have to look through Ellen’s menus for something. Or, at this point, I might as well go home and eat something there, though with transportation the way it was in the city, that would mean almost another hour with a grumbling stomach.
With another groan, I slammed the fridge, forgetting that I’d be left in the dark when the light shut off with it closed.
Now I had to get back to the kitchen door in the pitch-black dark.
This night just gets better and better.
I stumbled my way toward the door, holding onto the counter until I got to the wall, then used that to get back to where I’d come in. It was a relief to push the door back into the dimly lit hallway, despite coming up empty-handed on my mission.
As immediately as the relief came, it vanished when a rustle came from somewhere down the hallway in the direction of the stairwell.
I froze, listening. Nothing.
Then I heard it again.
The hair stood up on the back of my neck. I was alone and unarmed. Should I go back into the kitchen and try to find a knife? It would take too long in the dark.
Besides, the alarm was set and there was no way anyone could be in the office. I was imagining things, turning innocent noises into nonexistent threats.
But as I started down the hallway, I heard the sound again.
I stopped, straining my ears. It could be the cleaning crew, though they weren’t due to arrive for another couple of hours. Very few employees had the alarm code, and even fewer would use it at this time of night. Was it possible that someone hacked their way in?
No. Very unlikely. They’d have to hack the whole building’s security system to get past the guards, and that was even less likely.
Oh, that’s who it probably was—the security guard. Donovan had said he’d tell them to keep an eye on me.
Reassured by my reasoning, I set out down the hall again. “Hello?” I called out, not wanting to startle the guard when I wasn’t where expected. “Anybody there?”
When nobody answered, goosebumps erupted down my arms.
I refused to be scared of nothing, though, so instead of cowering I marched toward the stairs to look around.
No one was there.
The door to the stairway was still closed. I reached for the handle but didn’t turn it. If it was the guard, he’d have a key to open the door and a passcode for the alarm. If it wasn’t the guard and the alarm was still on, opening it would set it off. Which might be a good thing if whoever might be on the other side was a danger.
But most likely there was no one on the other side, and then the alarm would be a hassle.
I put my ear to the door and listened.
Nothing. It was a thick concrete door, though. What did I expect to hear?
This whole thing was silly, anyway. The alarm was on, the sound had stopped, and I was getting myself worked up over nothing.
Convinced I had an overactive imagination, I walked toward the beckoning light of my office.
I had almost made it to Ellen’s desk before the rustle returned as someone pounced and grabbed me from behind. A gloved hand covered my mouth before I could even think of letting out a scream.
Three
“This will be easier on you if you don’t struggle.”
The voice was a low, harsh whisper in my ear, unrecognizable without its tone. I could feel fabric where the man’s cheek met mine. He was probably wearing a ski mask.
I’d been in this position before. Not once, but twice. Been caught alone with a man who wanted to defile me without my consent. The terror was like pain—it was hard to remember how bad it was unless I was in it, scared and shaking, my heart galloping against my chest.
When I wasn’t actually in the clenches of a bad man, that kind of fear aroused me. It confused me to want the fantasy of it like I did, when I knew how horrific the reality was.
The usual panic settled on me now, causing my palms to sweat and my pulse to skyrocket, but, while the situation was horrifying, I somehow felt...safe?
With nothing to prove my gut instinct, the wisest thing to do was fight, and so I did, struggling against the tight, familiar grip. I jerked to the right, then quickly swerved left and down. And that’s when I saw his shoes—brown leather Berlutis.
Donovan.
Dismay became excitement. Fear became elation. Adrenaline still coursed through my veins, but now it was powered by exhilaration. Donovan was playing a game, a game I liked very much. Audrey was right—he hadn’t neglected Valentine’s Day.
And he knew exactly the kind of gift I’d like best.
Strangely, once I knew the man was Donovan, my fight began in earnest. I knew he wouldn’t hurt me for struggling the way a stranger might. He’d fight back, but he wouldn’t really hurt me. He’d just get more turned on.
Abruptly, I lodged my right elbow back into his sternum. His hand dropped from my mouth as he bent over, letting out a gasp that sounded more full of irritation than pain. With one side of my body free, I veered left, using the momentum to try to escape the grasp of his other hand.
It worked. I was free, and I ran toward my office. I could shut him out and lock the door if I made it inside without him catching me.
Of course, I wanted to be caught. But I didn’t have to let him. He’d get me in the end, no matter what.
In fact, I didn’t make it more than three steps before he launched forward and grabbed at my dress. I didn’t care if it tore, and I pulled against his grip, but the fabric was too strong, and he was easily able to hold on. As soon as I realized it, I spun in toward him, hoping to catch him off guard with my sudden change of movement as I lifted my hand to strike him across the face.
He was too quick. He caught my hand in the air. His other hand let go of my dress and grabbed my other wrist before I could hit him from that angle. I lifted my knee instead, aiming nowhere in particular, using whatever means I had to defend myself. He raised his own knee across his pelvis, just in time to block mine, then he pushed it forward and into me, tackling me to the ground underneath him.
“Too easy,” Donovan said, this time with his full voice, and if I hadn’t known it was him before this, I certainly did now.
The victory in his tone fueled another burst of energy. With a hard yank, I managed to get one hand free. I used it to push the base of my palm hard against his jaw. Automatically, he lifted up, and it was just enough for me to be able to turn and get out from underneath him.
But then I was on my side. From there, he wrenched my captured hand behind my back with a growl, and when he caught the other again, he yanked it to my back as well. I could hear his rapid breaths as he held me there, pinned using one hand and his knee.
After several seconds of nothing, I glanced over my shoulder to see he was looking around the room. I discovered what he was looking for a moment later when he used his free hand to tug sharply at the cord that led from the wall to the phone on Ellen’s desk. The wall end came out easily. When he pulled the other end, the entire phone came, skidding across the desk before it banged to the ground where he could easily drag it close enough to maneuver the cord out from its socket.
Once he had the cord free, he wrapped it several times around my wrists until they were bound, then he flipped me over onto my back. Pinning me down with his hips, he held himself above me, his arms extended. “Get it out of your s
ystem?”
I could tell he was smirking, even with a mask over his face. “Fuck you.”
“I’m planning to fuck you, actually.”
God, yes.
