Page 2 of Captured Obsession

“Shut up, Noel. Didn't you already go on dates this week?”

“Yeah, but I'm not a man who can be contained. I'mnot ready to settle down yet, and I didn’t say anything about a date.”

Fucking asshole. I stop listening to the conversation as the bartender brings me my drink. I give him my card and look down, throwing back half of it in one go, but it does nothing to help me forget about being so publicly humiliated or to shift the irritation unfurling in my heart. I’m no longer interested in what it has to offer me. Why is it that even in an exclusive club, somehow my pain becomes a conversation point when I'm just trying my hardest to move on from it?

I leave the half-finished drink on the bar and glance down at my phone screen, seeing it's five minutes to midnight. Well, so much for a Cinderella story since it seems all the men around me are toads.

I’m making my way to the exit, when a commotion between two men fighting over God knows what blocks the path. Instead, I opt for the second exit that I saw close to the women's bathroom at the back.

As I make my way through the crowd, I receive a text from Romi.

Romi:Hey, I just wanted to check in and see how you’re doing. If you have time today, call me.

I can't help but smile. The flood of warmth in her message is exactly what I need right now. She’s a real friend. This is the most she's been messaging me over the last few months because she was dealing with her own issues, and I didn't want to burden her with mine. But now that she seems to be healingfrom her grief from the loss of one of her friends, I think it’s okay for me to call her back. Just to hear her voice, and because I know she absolutely won’t let me return to New York with my tail between my legs. Even if I am feeling horribly homesick right now.

I pass the line to the women's bathroom, admiring the different outfits of those waiting, and internally clock the designer accessories in one of my personal favorite games. When I open the exit door, a rush of crisp air hits me alongside the smell of urine. My nose scrunches up at the putrid scent, which is unexpected from such an exclusive club. But then I remind myself that anything goes in the back alleys in London. But that's not what has me stopping in my tracks. It's the man standing across from me, taking a drag from a cigarette, looking more sinister here than he did inside the club. In the dim lighting, his forest-green eyes freeze me in place.

He’s alone, and it feels as if he’s waiting for someone, and now a little bit irritated that someone’s disturbed … whatever he’s doing.Stop overthinking this, Sienna.

“Didn't anyone tell you it’s unsafe to go into back alleyways alone?” he asks with the hint of a Russian accent.

His black hair almost fades into the dark. My gaze zeroes in on his neck tattoos again, and I can just make out what appear to be reptilian scales. Maybe a snake?Who is this person?It's only then I realize I've been staring far too long.

“I think I can make it from here to the street around the corner just fine, thanks.” I look back down at my phone, noticing that it's just after midnight, giving me plenty of time to call Romi on the way home with the time difference between London and New York.

And while he’s rather attractive, a shiver races down my spine when he speaks again.

“You didn't accept the drink I bought you.” This man is dangerous in more ways than one, I have no doubt. Confidence radiates from him like a black hole, and the longer I stay here, the more I feel as if I’m being dragged into his orbit. I’m hit by a quick bout of lightheadedness, and it’s enough to snap me out of my transfixion. Something doesn’t feel right.

“No. I don't make a habit of accepting drinks from strangers, especially those who somehow know what my favorite drink is, despite me not ordering it tonight.”

He casually flicks the remains of his cigarette into a puddle. “It's good to see you have some common sense. However, you should know that posting photos of your favorite food and drinks at frequented locations isn't exactly smart.”

My heart skips a beat as a cold shudder runs through me, and suddenly, I don't feel like the stranger is so attractive. Has he been stalking me? Or is he justan asshole who's trying to scare me? It doesn’t matter. Either way, I need to get out of here, but my legs feel too heavy. Have they felt like this all night?

“Thanks, I'll take that to heart. Anyway, I have somewhere to be,” I say as I begin walking close to the brick wall, toward the mouth of the alley.

“Would that be the same hotel room you've been staying in since returning to London? Haven't yet really settled down here, have you?”

My heart stops beating, and my entire body runs cold. I don’t turn to look at him, knowing he’s still watching, that predatory gaze locked on me. Everything feels as if it’s fading in and out. I need to get the fuck out of here and call the police.

My phone vibrates, and when I check it, I see that Romi has sent another message.

I try my hardest to keep up my nonchalant act. I won’t let him get under my skin. There’s a delay in my response, and the words come out slightly slurred. “Well … I wish I could say this was pleasant, but it wasn’t. Good night.” I still don’t look back at him, keeping my focus on the ground in front of me as panic rises at the growing heaviness in my limbs.

I hurry toward the street as fast as my leaden legs will carry me, tempted to look over my shoulder multiple times as paranoia creeps in. Is this some kind of game to him? I don't want to fuel the ego of a man like him by letting him know how spooked I am.

As I turn the corner at the end of the alley, andbefore I can respond to the text message, I slam into a hard wall of muscle. My phone is taken from me, but as I go to swipe it back, my movements are sluggish. A strange, hulk-like man with blue eyes and a shaved head ends the call.

“H-hey, give that back!” I yell as I jump to grab it from him. And it's not until I feel an arm wrap around my waist from behind and a hand covers my mouth that I'm acutely aware of the danger I've stepped into.

The stranger’s dark, alluring voice flushes against my ear with hot breath as he says in his Russian accent, “Don't take this personally, but I have a feeling you're not the type to come willingly. You shouldn’t have sipped from the second drink. Unfortunately for you, you're friends with the wrong people.”

The air in my lungs turns frigid as I attempt to scream for help with his hand still clamped around my mouth. However, I just slump into the man holding me, barely clinging to consciousness.

Fuck, I’ve been drugged.

They’re going to take me.