Severed Ties: A Dark Stalker Romance (Tainted Love Book 1)

The pain between my eyes is so severe I’m beginning to think my head actually might split in half. I’ve always thought the words splitting headache were a bit of an exaggeration, but not anymore. Memories come back to me slowly. So fucking slowly that it’s only when I remember the cloth over my face that it begins to make sense why I can’t move or think in full sentences.

I was drugged.

And worse than that? I was kidnapped.

The thought makes my eyes pop open and my stomach drops when I look around the outrageously decorated room and obscenely white sheets I’m lying on top of. Where the hell am I?

The room is decorated with a mixture of pure white and timber, but all it accomplishes is a stale feeling that makes my stomach ache for the darkness of Tommy’s apartment. There’s art on the walls, watercolor flowers, and lakes. Paintings that look so old they likely belong in an art gallery somewhere, not in someone’s home. Which means I’m in someone’s house that has a lot of money.

But who?

It’s not the Saint James estate. That much I can rule out because it doesn’t have the homey feel I’ve come to recognize each time I’ve stepped through the front door. And really, they’re the only rich people I know.

Unless—

My thought is cut off when the door opens quietly, and a set of footsteps echo through the room. God, it might be full of furniture, but the space is completely devoid of life.

I do my best not to tense, hoping whoever it is will think I’m still asleep and leave me alone, but there’s something about the footsteps and the way the person moves that tells me they’re not here to hurt me. I’ve always been a good judge of character, and even without laying an eye on this person, I get the feeling they don’t want to be here any more than I do.

I crack an eye open, cringing at the pain that radiates through my head. Jesus. How the hell am I supposed to work out where I am when it hurts to think?

“You’re awake.” The person on the other side of the room says, and I immediately turn to look at them, my head spinning at the quick movement.

I don’t expect to see a beautiful woman around my age, with eyes so deep I swear she’s about to swallow my soul. The blue is so unreal I almost think she’s wearing contacts, but when I look over the simple black dress she’s wearing, it seems unlikely she would go to any length to hide her real eye color. Her blonde hair is pulled into a messy knot on the top of her head, and there isn’t a lick of makeup on her face, but she’s stunning.

“Where am I?” I croak, the hoarseness of my voice startling me.

She reaches for something, and a second later, there’s a straw touching my dry lips. “Have some water. Whatever they drugged you with will likely have you drowsy for another few hours, but some water should help.”

I hesitate. What if it’s drugged? What if the men who stole me are using her to knock me out again so they can do whatever the hell they want to me?

She looks from me to the drink, and then understanding crosses her kind eyes.

“I promise it’s only water.”

She looks behind her at the closed doors before leaning close.

“I’m not here of my own will either.”

I open my mouth to ask questions, but she quickly pops the straw between my lips, and I’m forced to drink. As soon as the cool liquid hits my tongue, relief floods my senses. How long had it been since I’d had a drink? Hell, how long was I knocked out for?

“You’re in Florida, not far from Miami,” she tells me, and my mouth pops back open.

Florida?

The state I swore I would never step foot in again?

She withdraws the straw from my mouth and places the glass down on the bedside table. “Salvatore Lombardi owns this complex.”

I feel the color drain from my face because there’s no good that can come from a man like that taking you, and I hate to think what my future will hold if I can’t escape. “Who are you?” I ask quietly, my voice shaking slightly as I try to get a handle on my emotions. Panicking won’t do me any good right now. I need to keep a level head if I’m going to get out of here.

“My name is Mia. I’ve been here a couple of weeks. Salvatore bought me to marry off to his son, Damon, but he’s not so keen on marrying someone his father purchased.” She half laughs, but there’s no amusement in the sound, only misery. “I think he’s taken you for the same reason, for his other son Ronan.”

If there was any blood left in my face, it’s long gone now. Marry a man I don’t know? When I just found someone I really cared about? That I loved? Panic overwhelms me and tears gather in my eyes. No. This can’t be happening. After all I’ve been through. After all life has thrown at me and I’ve made it through, this can’t be how it ends.

Mia looks at me sympathetically and places a gentle hand on my shoulder. “It’s okay. I’ve met them a few times and they’re not as bad as you would think. They haven’t laid a hand on me, which is a lot different from where I was before.” The way her eyes turn glassy at the mere mention of the life she led not long ago makes my stomach churn. “Do you want something to eat? The drugs might make you a little queasy and I’ve found food can sometimes help?”

“You’ve been drugged before?” I whisper.

She smiles sadly and she sighs. “Sadly, more times than I can count.”

I open my mouth to respond but quickly snap it shut again. There’s nothing I can say that will make the things she’s been through any better.

“I’ll get you some toast.” She squeezes my shoulder in a comforting gesture before moving toward the door. As she reaches for the handle, she looks back at me with sad eyes. “Something I’ve learned in the last seven years is it’s always easier when you have someone who knows what you’re going through. The things these men do to our bodies are awful, but true terror is going through it alone.”

And then she’s gone, but her ominous words hang in the air for long minutes after she leaves.

Mia may be happy to live a life married to a man she doesn’t know because his father paid a pretty penny for her, but I’m sure as hell not. I’m getting out of here, even if it’s the last thing I ever do.