I had three ways to live.

The window was out of option. The bathroom didn't offer much help. Rogue Slade was an asshole; that needed to be said again.

Three ways. Find Hanna. Escape. Or be the most annoying person that in the end, he finds my presence so excruciating that he would decide to let me go. The first two would prove to be much harder. The last one might make death come faster. The only option I had was escape. Escape, then find Hanna. In that order. Got it.

But how do I escape?

Patience.

I wait. I wait for an opportunity to present itself, and it did. That opportunity came knocking on my door when a woman walked into the room, pushing a trolley cart. My stomach didn't grumble until I saw all the food displayed for me to eat, but it wasn't what my attention was on. It was the door that was left slightly open.

Escape.

I stared at the woman. She was a middle-aged woman, at least three inches taller than me. Her hair was blonde and curly, her eyes soft and blue. She was dressed casually, in a pair of skirt and blouse. She didn't greet me or looked at me. I guess that would have been Rogue's order. Talking to the hostage would establish a connection, which would turn into manipulation, and before you know it, the woman would be jumping to help. But I guess he had thought about that. This might be a test too. Leaving the door open. Fall into the trap, you fool. It practically said.

Well, I had thought about it too, and I was going to take my chances. While the woman was too busy loading food onto my plate, I used that opportunity to scramble off the bed and darted for the door.

I sprinted outside, hearing an exclaimed remark that I didn't bother to wait to listen. Stumbling into the hallway, I chose to go left because left was usually the way out. I sprinted, flying past rooms and other hallways, my hair whipping against my back. The house seemed to be like an endless maze. Endless turns, but I kept going straight.

I made it down the stairs, but it didn't puzzle me how it was so easy, or how I had barely met any human being except for that woman. She hadn't even bothered to follow me. I didn't care. I made it to the foyer, and the door stared straight at me. It looked like the front door. I wasn't sure. I was going to find out.

I was almost at the front door, a few steps away from freedom, but you know what they say about running? You look at where you're going. I didn't. So engrossed in the freedom that I didn't realize a trap had been set for me. One wrong step was all it took for me to be caught in it. I stepped into a rope, which curled around my ankle and lifted me off the floor. Before I knew it, I was dangling from the ceiling. Upside down.

Motherfucker.

I let out a scream as I dangled upside down, my arms waving around. I tried to push myself up to grab the robe so the blood wouldn't rush to my brain, but I couldn't grab it despite trying to reach it with my hand, but I ended up failing. Every time I moved, I swung around, and my head spun, so I tried to limit any movements.

Movements from the stairs had me arching my head back to see. The woman rushed the last few steps with wide eyes, and when I opened my mouth to ask her to cut the robe, she huffed at me, straightened her shoulders, and went back up the stairs. Bitch.

"Rogue!" I tried yelling, to tell him that he had won for now. I wanted to get down to the safe comfort of the ground. The robe was scratching at my ankle, making it burn.

He didn't show up.

Three minutes.

Turned to five. Which turned to six, and then before I knew it, I had been dangling from the ceiling for ten minutes. Ten bloody minutes. At least, I was able to arch my head back for a few seconds, so the blood didn't rush to my brain, but it got tiring. My arms went limp. I went from wanting to scream from wanting to cry my eyes out.

I was tired.

I was sore.

My ankle was killing me.

Please, Rogue.

This was punishment for trying to escape, but I didn't think he would be this cruel. Where had his humanity gone? What humanity? His humanity left the second he kidnapped me. But did he really have it at all? Were all rich men like this? Sick and twisted. Kind and angelic in public. Monsters behind closed doors?

"Anyone here?!"

Silence.

The house was enveloped with maddening silence that threatened to make me go crazy. I stopped counting how many seconds that ticked by and started counting all the ways I was going to choke Rogue Slade.

A chair scraped. I looked up. A man, who I knew was a guard, kept a chair in front me with two others that carried in a glass table they settled in front of me. A maid walked in with a black tablecloth that she spread on the table, then another brought in a flower vase and placed it at the center of the table. What the fuck?

"Hey!" I called for their attention, waving my hands around. "Someone get me down from here!" But no one paid attention to the woman dangling from the ceiling, opting to keep going back and forth, pretending this was just another normal day.

When the lights in the foyer turned off, I snapped my head around at the candles that had just been lit and set on the table. The woman that was in my room earlier walked in and set a tray of food before walking away. She didn't even glance at me. My mouth was left open in shock.

Suddenly, Rogue appeared out of nowhere, and the temperate in the room rose to the highest degree. He settled down in the chair at the same time a maid lifted the lid off his plate and poured wine into his glass. She quickly scurried away.

"Good afternoon, Bethany." Rogue lifted a napkin and spread it on his lap. He didn't look at me.

"Rogue, get me down from here." I sounded like I was pleading, but also still held a degree of firmness.

He stared at me. I had never been looked at with such intensity. "I told you, you can't call me that. It's Mr. Slade for you." He threaded his fingers together.

I wanted to roll my eyes. "Okay, Mr. Slade." I humored him. "Get me down from here. It's not funny."

Rogue raised a bottle of wine. "Would you care for a glass of wine?" He caught himself then, chuckling softly, the power and energy that seemed to ooze from him nearly choked me. "Ah, but the situation you're in..." His smile, so morbidly charming. His gaze, he looked like he was devouring on my pain and slurping every fear. His eyes cast down to his food as he added, "Such a shame. It is one of my finest wine."

"Get me down before I scream your ears off!"

He stopped moving. Rogue pushed his chair back. He was standing up and approaching me before I knew what was happening. The hair at the back of my neck stood up. When he was a length away, his hand lifted. I wanted to back away, but I couldn't. His fingers curled around my chin. The smell of his cologne increased my heart rate, and my skin felt like it was on fire where he touched me. His fingers gently moved to my cheek, almost as if he was petting me than caressing me.

His eyes stared right into mine. "Go on, then. Scream."

"Don't touch me," I hissed out.

A smirk appeared on his face. "That's amusing. Everywhere I go, there's always someone who wants to touch me."

"That's because they don't know what a sick fuck you are. I guarantee you they will run the other way if you open yourself to them."

"But they will never know, will they?" he challenged, suddenly finding it amusing. "You are yet to know the kind of man I am."

I ground my teeth. "I'm dangling from a fucking ceiling. I think I have an idea." I wanted to bite his fingers off after he said that. He could wear his expensive suits and wear the finest shoes and watches, but the man in front of me was anything but civilized.

"What you got is just a mere taste of the apple." His voice came out thick. "But like apples, I can be sweet and sour. The little twist in that is, you never know which side you get to meet." Then the robes were snapped. I had no time to react because I never saw him moving. I just knew I was falling and smashed into his sculpted body. His arm clamped tight around me.

My pulse fired up. I found myself whispering, "Let me go." when he refused to unwrap his arm around me. I pulled up to stare into his eyes, and for a moment, he was all primal and intense, so focused on me I thought he was about to shift into a wild animal and eat me whole.

"Should I?"

His question threw me off. He squeezed me so hard that I couldn't breathe for a moment. My arms were completely restrained, so I couldn't fight him. I opened my mouth to say something but stopped. Something electrifying was in the air between us. It was dangerous. It bit, and it burned. The bubble of want and need that had existed from the first moment I saw him in his company.

"Rogue."

His full, red lips tightened. His other hand was fisted in my hair, holding my head arched back. His mouth took on a ruthless slant. "I told you, it's Mr. Slade for you." He let go of me abruptly and stared down at me, his gaze flat and dark. "Don't run," he issued me a startling command. "It won't end well for you."

Being a rich asshole, he was used to issuing orders and having everyone obeying him. Unfortunately for him, I was as stubborn as they come.

My head was pounding, and I just needed a minute to sit and recover. However, I needed to stand my ground, even if I was feeling a bit dizzy. "As soon as I get the chance, nothing will stop me," I declared, throwing him a pleasant smile I knew would piss him off.

"Are you ready to talk now?" He ignored my snide comment. Turning away from me, he went back to slid gracefully into his chair and arranged his napkin. Back to his lunch. Leaving me standing there. With another chance to run.

Seriously, who kidnaps someone and gives them so much freedom to run through the house?

His face was cloaked in shadows, the candles flickering only a few angles. He looked like he belonged in the darkness. He forgot the knife and picked up his fork.

"I'm going to say what I said earlier because apparently, you're choosing to ignore it, but don't worry. Every time you ask me, I'm going to repeat it over and over again until you have drilled it into your head. I don't have Hanna. I don't know what happened to her. It had nothing to do with me. I would also like to know what happened to my friend."

Rogue wasn't looking at me anymore, as he readjusted his silverware, running his fingers over the sharp knife as if he could jump out of his chair and murder me before a scream was uttered.

"Are you ready to talk?"

"I just said—"

"Are. You. Ready. To. Talk?" he demanded, his voice vibrating with ruthless energy. When I didn't speak up, he sighed. "Very well. I have all the time in the world."

My gaze danced between the knife he was wielding in his hand and his face. "But does Hanna?"

That got him to look at me. He lost interest in his lunch.

"Careful, Bethany," he warned.

I glared at him. "It's Beth. Don't call me Bethany, Rogue." If he intended to call me Bethany, there was nothing stopping me from calling him Rogue. He may hum with authority that terrified me, but I also held stubbornness that made me want to defy him.

"Sit." He didn't gesture because there wasn't an additional chair to gesture to.

"There's no place to sit," I said in a tone that hinted at the stupidity of his remark. However, I had the awful feeling that I knew where his next words would head, but I also wanted to see if he would dare say it.

He arched back against his seat, his hands disappearing under the table, and I could imagine them clasped tightly on his lap as if he didn't trust himself to keep his restraint. "On the floor, beside me," casually, the words left his luscious lips.

So he did dare to say it.

"I'm not a fucking dog," I lashed out. My breathing turned shallow. His lingering stare threatened me. I wasn't stupid not to recognize how dangerous he was. I had seen it, maybe not everything, but I had seen enough to know Rogue Slade was a tsunami waiting to happen.

"My favorite pets are humans. Such delicate little things. Fragile. Easily broken."

The statement alarmed me. He alarmed me. Everything that left his mouth made me terrified. Yet, there was just something alluring about him. Something captivating. He was a mystery. Something fascinating that I couldn't figure out. The reserved calmness he had, yet there was an underlining danger to it.

"You're a sick man, you know that, right? I pity those who worship you, or think you're a good man."

His lips spread just a little. "Did you use to be one of those?" His voice, such silkiness with a rough edge to it. "My worshippers?" He looked intrigued now. His gaze scalded me. But there was something else in his eyes. A spark of something secretive, but not secretive enough. We both knew what he was hinting at, and it was enough to make me flush.

It was enough for me to fire out, "I never have, nor will ever worship you, or any other human." I didn't want to shake underneath his gaze. Yes, I had been fascinated and was still fascinated by him. He didn't have to know that.

"Hmm," was all he said. He didn't believe me. "Bring another chair." At the command, a maid abruptly came out of the shadows, holding another chair that she set across from him. My eyes narrowed. Had she been there the whole time?

Taking my cue, I slipped into the seat, and right as I sat, a plate was set in front of me. I didn't look down at it. I was more interested in the man sitting across from me. It was more like I didn't trust what he was giving to me. What if he intended to knock me out again? Yeah, fuck no.

"How long am I going to be held hostage here?" I asked, watching him direct a fork to his mouth. "I have friends and family who would worry. You don't think they'd be alarmed if they don't hear from me? Your life would be over before you know it." I didn't mention that I had a connection with a powerful man back in England, but it wasn't wise to mention that yet. I couldn't show all my cards.

He slowly licked his lips. I felt like a volcano had erupted inside me. "About that...." he chuckled in amusement. "The ones you're hoping will find you are under the impression that you're on holiday in Palawan."

My eyes expanded. "They're not that stupid to believe it without proof."

He grinned. "How long do you think you've been here?"

His question attacked me, giving me a large dose of anxiety. My heart continued to flip. Sweat drops rolled down my chest. But he wasn't waiting for me to ask.

"Five days," he revealed, and my heart actually stopped. "Enough to take a stop in Philippines. You were out cold, of course. Took some shots of you in different locations, all wearing sunglasses and different clothes. I have enough to save for the remaining days you will be here."

It wasn't the fact that I had been kidnapped that got my heart rolling around, it was the fact that he said I had been wearing different clothes for his pictures.

"You changed my clothes."

"Don't worry, I didn't look."

I fought panic and anger as I kept my gaze locked on him. "Does that excuse the fact that you dressed me while I was unconscious?"

Rogue placed his knife and fork on either side of his plate with an eerie calmness. "Are you implying that I will take advantage of you?" His gaze never tore from me when he stated, "I don't get sex by force, Beth. I can get it anywhere I want, and at any time. I'm not that kind of a monster."

Couldn't he just see that it didn't bloody matter? He changed my clothes while I was unconscious. That would never, ever be okay. No matter if he had looked or not. Swallowing hard, I dared to look away.

"Don't be under the impression that I'm not a gentleman. I assure you that you'd never find anyone as gentlemanly as me. I was raised right."

"You were not raised to kidnap someone or have them dangled from the ceiling. Along the way, you must have diverted from the path you were set on."

Lowering his voice, Rogue whispered, "Eat your food."

"I'm not hungry," I insisted.

He bared his teeth, his hand fisted around his knife. "I'm not asking."

"That's not my problem," I bit out, holding the same threat.

His fingers steepled with poise and power as he exercised his power and command into one look. Rogue's eyes sparked with black violence, glittering harder as he looked me up and down. He stood so fast his chair screeched against the marble floor, alarming me.

"Miriam will escort you back to your room."

My mouth opened as he stormed toward the stairs.

"Wait!" I didn't know why I said that. But he paused by the railing, his hand on the knob. His shoulders remained tight and bunched. I took a gulp of air, not knowing what to say. Why did I stop him?

Rogue turned, and his smoldering gaze locked onto mine. Power, danger, and intensity swirled like a toxic fog around him. When he realized I had nothing to say to him, he turned and was climbing up the stairs with careful movements and such ease only reserved for one who had more power than he could handle.