Ripping the blindfold from her face, Jasmine cries out more from shock than from anything else. She squints her eyes, a glare of light floods her vision as if meeting the light for the first time. As her eyes clear and her vision produces shapes she finally adjusts to the light and finds herself in a very large Victorian style room and sprawled on a very plush four poster bed with a canopy and silk sheets.

Where the hell was she? The room was dark except for sconces spread out along the walls.

The position she was in left her stiff, and her muscles begged and pleaded to be stretched. Lifting herself on her hands she pulls her body upwards and sits on her bottom and quickly noticed she was still in her dress she wore at the club and drenched with sweat.

My God, she thought.

This wasn't a bad dream. This was real. She was kidnapped from the back of the taxi by men in masks. She remembered kicking and screaming at her assailants but she soon passed out afterwards. Jasmine rubbed temples feeling a light throb of the remains of a headache.

Where was she?

Her eyes roamed the room clearly now. While her previous penthouse was big and very comfortable, the accommodations in the room looked like a presidential suite. There was a small alcove with a wide window. The little nook had a small wooden desk in the corner and a little window seat with long beige cushions across the length of it. A large sitting area was furnished with velvet-coerced couches, Oriental rugs and antique chest and tables. Cheery wood tufted chairs flanked a wood mantle- brick fireplace.

The paint was a warm brown with a cool tan trim around the windows and doors. There were pictures of unique oil paintings of various flowers lining the walls. She could only imagine what it looked like on the outside. It felt like she was in another country, but there was no way she'd been out that long, was there?

Jasmine reluctantly slipped her legs over the edge of the mattress and stood. Her body shivered violently as she tried to stand, her over heated skin dropping in temperature and finally feeling how cold the room really was. She almost collapsed. Her legs felt like jelly from the lack of use. She turned her head carefully–drained, tired and nauseated and wondered again for how long had she been unconscious.

She was able to stand and fight off the last of the lightheadedness.

Walking slowly across the large expanse of the bedroom, she approached the window seat and looked outside. It had the perfect view of a large maze like garden. Shrubs were perfectly shaped, rose bushes bloomed in an array of colors. Stone benches patiently waited beneath trees ready to be sat upon. Greek statues stood immobilized, frozen in stone almost ready at a touch to come to life.

It was one of the most beautiful grounds Jasmine had ever seen. Not something she'd ever caught of glimpse of except in magazines which only confirmed she was in another country because the scene and setting was not customary. She should have been afraid. But she felt nothing but a million questions running through her head. After staring at the garden for a few more minutes, she felt her exhaustion return as she sat slouched, weak and confused as to where she was and who went to so much trouble to bring her here by force.

Her eyes flickered to the door.

It was shut and there were no movements outside that she could hear. Sitting there alone did nothing to ease her mind about the odd situation she was in. The longer she sat there, the more she worried she became for herself and Sammy. What ever happened to him? Did they let him go? Was he safe?

A bad feeling like a heavy weight settled over her chest.

Her stomach growled embarrassingly loud, and for once she was glad she was alone. Her throat was dry and she needed water but she didn't trust her legs to work properly as she sat there helpless to do anything.

The door slowly opened. Jasmine chocked back a gasp of surprise as a head peeked around the door.

"Are you awake, Miss?" An older lady enters holding a tray in her hands and smiles warmly.

The woman was much older than her by at least two decades and yet, she had called her 'Miss.' It almost sounded like she was being treated as a guest.

"My name is Lola and I'm here to serve you, Miss. You must be hungry and thirsty. I brought you water and food."

The glass of water made her throat blaze with need, eyeing the tray warily and the strange woman as she glided inside smoothly, balancing the tray on the flat of her palm. Jasmine almost recoils, finding the woman far too close for her liking.

As if reading her mind, she handed her the glass first. "You must be parched. Please, drink as much as you need." Her gaze turned serious when Jasmine made no move to take the offerings. She obviously read the distrust in her eyes saying, "Please eat and drink. His highness insists. We don't want to make him angry."

His Highness. . ?

Lola made him sound like some cruel dictator, someone you wouldn't want to cross paths with. The blood drained from her face, but she managed to keep her chin up. For it was only a reaction of her doubts in the unknown not the reality. Fear would do her no good. Fear makes the wolf bigger than he really is.

Without even thinking of the action, Jasmine took the cup from her numbly, initially wanting to deny the offering but her thoughts were conflicted and she found if difficult to speak feeling her throat closing.

Once she finished the entire cup of water, the woman replaced it with the tray. At that moment, her stomach growled loudly at the sight of the beautifully laid out fruit of fresh strawberries, grapes, bananas and orange slices. Neatly sliced bread, cheese and green olives submerged in olive oil in a small round bowl were beside the offerings.

"It's a light snack. We assumed your belly couldn't handle a large meal." Lola explained. For the first time, she noticed the woman had a heavy accent.

Jasmine blushed profusely and pushed the tray away. The woman pushed it right back at her.

"No. Now eat." She demanded. "And I shall start the fire to warm you."

What and who would gain from her disappearance? What was their motive?

Seeming to have lost her voice and ask her questions, she watched Lola stop before the fireplace, kneel and begin to build a fire. Straightening, she took the fire poker and used it to nudge at a log–the fire roaring to life.

Jasmine watched the older woman amongst the over-elaborate furnishings and decorations. Allowing the fire time to build, Lola began tidying up the bed before going back to the fireplace to add more logs to small roaring fire and returning the poker to its stand. Her movements appeared memorized, the routine done so many times she wasn't even thinking about what she was doing.

Lola straightens her back and looked over her shoulder at Jasmine with a slightly disapproving expression. Caught staring, Jasmine flushed slightly and blinked profusely in embarrassment.

"Hurry now, I'm sure you're eager to bathe and change out of that dress."

Jasmine lifted an beautiful antique fork which looked expansive with its deep designs, and sighed as she began nibbling on some fruit. She was dying to shower.

"I do not have any other clothing to change out of." Jasmine informed, speaking for the very first time since the woman entered the room.

Lola smiled with a nod and went to open a door beside the bathroom. It was a closet. Jasmine set the fork down and stood, walking towards her. Peeking past her, she saw a large closet full of woman's clothes, all with tags from expensive designers.

"Whose are these?" She asked doubtfully.

"Yours. They were purchased before your arrival, Miss."

Jasmine stiffened. Dread filled her body.

Lola couldn't meet her stare. She could have sworn the look she gave her was pity.

Whoever kidnapped her was planning for a while to do it. She must have been watched every second of the day she was in public which explains the uneasiness she felt on more than one occasion. Her home was broken into as she slept. Drawers were rummaged through–especially the drawer filled with lacy underwear and bras. The person who ordered her kidnapping was her stalker.

"Who brought me here?" She finally asked, backing away slowly.

"You will find out soon enough, Miss. You will find undergarments in the drawers in the dresser." Lola smiled politely, bowed silently and left her alone again, making sure to close the door.

In the next instant, she heard a click.

"Wait!" Jasmine pleaded, rushing to the door and turned the knob. Just as she suspected, the door was locked holding her prisoner. "Let me out!" She pounded against the rigid barrier. But no one answered, and she stopped after a few moments.

Frustrated, her fist hit the door.

Closing her eyes, Jasmine pressed her cheek against the smooth wood. Convulsively, her hand fumbled for the knob once more and twisted one way and then the other. It was useless, the door was locked. She was trapped.

The food long forgotten, she dashed to the bathroom and locked the door, sagging against it. The bathroom was massive. A tub large enough for two people was supported on claw feet with a circular shower curtain. The sink was porcelain and marble with a matching white toilet. A square shaped window gave plenty of light but she found the need to flip on the light.

Peeling off her clothing she entered the tub and turned on the knobs testing the waters temperature before she climbed in. Toiletries were provided as she examined a shampoo and conditioner bottle that had a label she didn't recognize. They smelled good, though. Like roses and vanilla. There was soap too.

The water felt blissful against her skin as she prolonged her shower as much as she could. However, eventually, reluctantly, she stepped out. Wrapping a neatly folded towel around herself, she found a comb placed on the vanity and combed her hair.

She realized too late she'd forgotten to grab clothes. Not knowing what to do and not wanting to step out in a towel or back in her dirty clothes, she was relieved when she spotted a white plush robe hanging on a hook. Slipping it on and tying the sash tightly on her waist she unlocked the door and slowly opened it.

Jasmine was briefly thunderstruck.

Standing in the center of the bedroom stood a dark avenger of a man with his back turned and his hands clasped patiently behind his back. Recognition blasted through her, taking in the tall, six foot three, broad shoulders and hard-muscled body. The expensive cut of his dark suit spoke of money and power.

Jasmine's hand flew to her lips in horror as she stared at him.

Her skin turned to ice. She shook her head in hopeful denial. The man standing before her haunted her waking thoughts and troubled dreams for the past couple months. Jasmine stiffens, bracing herself as he slowly turned around, her heart beginning to flutter wildly in her chest.

Cristiano.

Looking into his darkly handsome face, she almost forgot to breathe. His face was hard–like granite. Disbelief filled her as she shook her head not believing this was really happening, the shock settling in her bones. He went to the trouble of kidnapping her because of her brother.

Why else would he bring her here? Unless he wanted to . . .No, she shook her head. There was no other explanation. He was going to use her as leverage against her brother. It had to be the only explanation.

Cristiano slowly looked her over, from the tips of her toes to her robe and then landed on her face. Jasmine took an unwilling step back from the icy glitter in his dark eyes.

"Yasmina."

Anger washed over her at the sound of his voice.

"Where am I?"

"Far from London." He paused, his gaze tracing her face as he waited for her reaction.

Arrogance radiated off him.

"Where?"

"On an island." He answered simply and vaguely. "My Island. My home."

Her heart dropped between her legs. Just before she was about to ask him to clarify, Jasmine searched for any hint of the lie on his face. But she didn't see his signature smirk. His features were frozen. She found herself focusing on his dark eyes, staring at them intently and believing every word from his mouth.

Pure terror washed through her when she realized what he said meant. There were hundreds of islands in the world she thought, hopelessness surfacing within her. How did he chart her away undetected?

"Why?"

"I have no interest in you but as a pawn in my revenge." His words stung and she felt a flush of humiliation rise up her neck and flood her cheeks. "You are mine now. Understand that. You and I are bound by your brother's mistake, whether either of us likes it or not. I will not hurt you Yasmina. Unless, of course, you do not cooperate."

Jasmine looked at him, feeling as though she were seeing him for the first time. He was a man who stood for everything she despised–vendetta and violence. "You are a devil." She replied in a tone like a small steel knife.

"It is nothing I've never heard before." He stated in a bored tone and cold eyes.

"Where is Sammy? What have you done to him?"

He cocked a perfect eyebrow. "Is your lovers name Samuel or Sammy?"

"What have you done with him!" She shouted, breathing hard keeping her fists at her sides wanting nothing more than to go to him and slap the mocking amusement she detected on his face.

He smiled at her–the way a predator does to a prey before it leaps. He reminded her of a deadly poisonous snake.

"Do not worry, he is well. He's getting exactly what he deserves."

The tone of his voice was so calm and caress-like, a shiver nearly shook her body.

"If he's harmed in anyway, I will kill you."

"Are you scared?" Cristiano looked directly at her for an answer, expression impassive, arms folded over his chest.

The hot headed Cristiano was accustomed to was nowhere present. This calm and relaxed Cristiano kept her on the edge of her seat. If possible, he appeared even more dark and dangerous than ever.

Jasmine raised her chin. "No."

She turned away and strode to the window as the lie spilled from her lips. Of course he expected her to be afraid and she would be damned if she let him win. Maybe it was her pride but the urge to not admit her fear weighed heavily on her chest as she did her best to regulate her breathing. She didn't want to admit out loud her heart was beating a mile a minute, that her hands were clammy.

She was holding on to her guns. Her courage would overcome the fear. It had to because she didn't even have the faintest clue as to what Cristiano planned by her abducting her and how she was going to escape.

"Who are you?" She asks. "Lola referred to you as 'your highness'. Is this some sort of sick joke?"

Cristiano tapped his chin thoughtfully, a small smile hovering over his lips.

"I am a long descendant line of the Kingdom of Italy–the house of Savory to be more specific. The last true King Umberto II–my grandfather, was exiled in 1946 when Italy became a republic after World Word II. The Italian monarch ended and was never restored but our titles have remained in the family. My grandfather gave birth to a daughter–my mother princess Elena of Montenegro she married and had my sister and I. It wasn't until 2002 all male heirs were barred to the defunct throne from ever returning to Italian soil."

Jasmine was unable to conceal her shock. He was a royal. Nothing in the research she and Sammy read revealed anything of his roots. The aristocratic air she always sensed had never been more evident than it did at that moment. It emitted from him like a thick fog. Still reeling from what he revealed and completely unprepared, she couldn't even think straight. Her throat went dry again, her mouth so parched that she could barely get a word out.

"When I became the head of the family after my father and mother's deaths, the family's business interests came into my possession. We own property over most of the globe, in addition to vast vineyards in Italy. I have the time, money and power to do as I please. Surely you can see I am unstoppable."

How the hell was she to fight Cristiano on his own territory? A man who liked to use his title as control over people. Using his power and wealth to control her. Well he had another thing coming if he thought she was impressed with his title and wealth.

It filled her with rebellion.

"What? So I'm supposed to feel privileged? Your title is meaningless. You don't act like a refined, royal, gentleman. You act more like a criminal. You kidnap me for what? Your stupid revenge? Grow up!" She snapped eyes blazing, shooting fire.

He ignored the blow to his masculine pride and shrugged. "You are too young to understand, Yasmina. Too naive. You have not seen life like I have, you haven't experienced it first hand. You've never been in a hardship. Never felt betrayal. Life is beyond what you read in books and watch on television."

"Go to hell." She began slowly, "your grudge will cost you more than what you assume you're going to gain."

"'One thing that separates good from evil is evil's unending patience.'" He quoted.

"I pity you."

"I don't want your pity." He roams his eyes slowly over her body. "I do, however, want your body. Beneath me. All day. All night." He smiles darkly as he sauntered toward her.

Jasmine felt her blood run cold as she took a step back wishing she could escape his unsettling sexual scrutiny. His eyes traveled down over her legs and hips in admiration and it was almost like he could see past the robe.

"You selfish bastard." She started quietly and calmly. "My life is not a game! I have feelings! I have a heart! I'm a human being not a pawn! Going to extremes for your stupid vendetta and using me–"

"Your brother took my sisters innocence. He impregnated her. He will do right by her and answer to my demands or I will never let you go. You will be my prisoner forever if he doesn't accept my terms and does right by her. I intend to make him pay for his reckless mistakes. You will pay for his mistakes. One way or another."

"I would rather die than touch you! I'd rather die then let you use me for your perverse pleasure! You're nothing but a criminal. You're no Prince. Prince's have honor, they're not ruthless and evil like you." She sneers in his face.

Cristiano gave a bored, one-shoulder shrug and stopped before her. "I wouldn't have to force myself upon your person. I have my ways, you know." He raises his hand as though to touch her arm.

"Don't you dare touch me." She said quietly, staring him directly in the eyes. "If you have a shred of honor–"

"Now you think I have honor?" His handsome face was stark as he looked down at her.