Jasmine shifted slightly in a chair, trying to get out of the cords that bound her wrists without attracting attention of the guards.

Cristiano enters the room and she freezes as he approaches.

He looked down at his prisoner. Tied up with a soft silken gag over her mouth. Jasmine was glaring at him with bright sparks of hatred in her eyes. His eyes traced her body. She was wearing tight skinny jeans and a white shirt. The shirt dropped from her shoulder revealing a flash of lacy bra strap. Knowing she was wearing the sexy lingerie he had purchased for her before her arrival at the castle underneath.

His body tightened.

He said softly, "What am I going to do with you?"

Jasmine answered him in a muffled, angry voice, and he had a feeling she was telling him what he should do with himself.

With a sigh, he reached down and untied the white sash from her mouth.

"Scream all you want."

He than takes a blade from one of his guards and rips the ropes, loosening the knots. He tried not to notice the alluring softness of her skin as he grasped her ankle as he held her, slicing through the rope tied around her–tried not to imagine the white lacy bra and panties looked beneath her clothes.

Jasmine rubs her sore wrists and gives him a dirty look.

"You were driving my men crazy. They've seen a lot and done a lot but they have never come across a young lady with a foul mouth such as yours."

And there she goes again, insulting his manhood, his intelligence, his lineage and that of his men.

"Oh, Yasmina, my fierce one." He said, regarding her with interest. "I'm beginning to think you're not quite the innocent I thought you were." He touched her face, trying to make her look at him, but she jerked her chin away, scowling. He lowered his hand, gazing at her while she stewed. "You're very beautiful when you scowl."

"I hate you!"

"Those were some fight moves." He comments, referring to the successful attempt at evading his men.

She fought very well. So well in fact, one of the soldiers was at the hospital with a broken arm. Another had two fractured ribs and the third got a black eye from a hefty punch she delivered.

She lifted her chin proudly, straightening her back, giving him a disdained look. "Annie and Julien St. James made sure their children received the best self-defense instructors. What I did to your men is only a preview of what I'm capable of."

"And here I thought you were an innocent angel that couldn't hurt a fly."

Jasmine scoffed. "Men can be so stupid. All of you want an angel. But you don't realize to have an angel, you must create heaven for her. Angles don't live in hell." She shot back looking ready to leap like a tigress and claw his eyes out.

Her anger amused him.

"Oh, don't fret cara, I meant no insult." He said, giving her a mocking but indulgent smile. "Your chances of escape are slim and any chance of anyone finding you are even slimmer." He went on. "The castle is remote. We're well manned. I'd advise you next time to think before you act irrationally or you'll find yourself hurt or dead in some ditch."

"Anything is better than staying here!"

Cristiano noticed his men's furtive glances at the goddess. He sent the soldiers back to work with a menacing glare, bristling with a surge of the possessiveness he felt around her. He glance at her pale face. Even tied up and angry with rage at getting caught, her beauty got him every time he looked at her. His gaze floated forward over the expanse of her chest, modestly revealed by a v-neck shirt. He looked straight at the lush swells of her breasts lifting with her panting breaths. He saw her nipples were erect, pressing against the soft, light cotton.

He dropped his gaze, his mouth gone dry. He might as well just die because he couldn't handle lingering in the same room with her where such breasts could exist but he could never kiss them, fondle them. At that moment, he regretted even more his promise never to kiss her.

His word of honor, he internally scoffed.

It meant his lips and tongue couldn't suckle her full, ripe breasts. His hands could not part her virgin thighs. He couldn't stroke and kiss her until he lost himself deep, deep inside her hot wet core. He took a deep breath and it took every ounce of will not to glance at her breasts.

He wanted to rip the clothes off her body.

She watched him with narrowed eyes, eyes ready to kill him. That look nearly snapped his control. He loved watching her defy him. It turned him into a wild barbarian wanting to bend her to his will and teach her a lesson she'd never forget.

He clenched his hands at his sides, his body tight and aching for what he could not have.

"Is being here with me so awful to you? It's not as if I've shackled you to your room in chains like some animal. You are a guest and ordered my staff to treat you as such but after this little stunt you pulled I might as well resort to that plan."

"A guest?" She echoed. "Screw you! You kidnapped me, remember?!? Someone will help me! Even if I have to hitchhike to the nearest town I'd do it! Even if I die, it'd be worth it than staying here with you!"

His sensual mouth curled in a devastating smile. He looked every inch a ruthless Italian Prince, his cold eyes darkening like a brewing storm approaching.

"Wrong." He said softly.

Their eyes locked, and shivers went through her.

"How long do you plan on keeping me here? What do you want?" Jasmine knew she'd asked the same questions before, but she couldn't help but ask again.

Cristiano lifted a fine dark brow. "I am a man who does not like repeating himself. I want Zayn. As soon as he gets back from his little getaway which has prolonged this ordeal, he will be brought here just as you and your little friend. I have men ready and waiting for his arrival, he will pay for his mistakes and if he refuses. . . ". He takes a short pause. "I will have his head on a platter."

"You sick monster!" She shouted, angry tears misting her eyes. "How can you be so cruel?"

"I have an agenda to fulfill. That does not make me a monster nor cruel."

"Release Sammy. He does not deserve to suffer. Let him go, he has nothing to do with Zayn."

Cristiano shakes his head. "I'm afraid I cannot do that. He will only bring me trouble if he's released. He should not have poked his nose where it's not wanted." He warned, watching her.

"This place is huge! At least let him stay in one of the guest rooms, where he can bathe and change his clothing." Although her words were pleading, her eyes were the exact opposite. They spit poison. "Where he can have a nice hot meal and sleep on a real, clean bed not littered with dirt and grime! It's the least you can do for dragging him into this hell!"

"I will do no such thing." He answers her calmly watching her with calculated eyes allowing her to believe more doubts about his humanity.

No matter what he said, or did, she would always see him as a monster. It was best, he thought, because there were moments lately when his feelings for Yasmina shadowed the strictly professional plan he set in place. Sometimes he forgot the reason she was here. Before her escape attempt, he hadn't been thinking as he should. He'd been thinking like a man besotted with a woman, the yearning to win her approval and be in her good graces. The first emotion on learning she escaped and was found with her pretend fiancé had been a stab of bitter resentment at the sudden reminder of why she was under his roof.

Besides, she had nothing to offer him in return for her request. Absolutely nothing.

"You are better separated from one another." They were a dangerous pair. If they came together, he was positive they would plot and plan an escape. "Do you take me for a fool? You will just try and run away again."

"I hate you so much." Her words were said so quietly, so lethally, Cristaino could feel the full impact of her words stabbing the impenetrable wall he set in place. Her features set in a look of calm acceptance. But Cristiano could feel the tension in her, belying her casual stance. "You will never have Zayn, you will never keep me here willingly. You can't stop me no matter what you do to me. I swear to make your life, as long as I'm here, a living hell in any way I can." She promised.

Jasmine stood, and hurried ahead to the foyer.

"Don't you walk away from me. I am not finished speaking to you."

She didn't pause, ignoring him, sparing him a lethal glare over her shoulder and almost reached the staircase when a hand clapped on her arm. Any words she might have uttered were stilled as he swung her round and caught her close. Her eyes took on a defiant gleam as he pushed a hand beneath her hair and captured her nape.

He was much too close. His cologne teased her nostrils and melded with the musky male fragrance that was his alone.

"Your claws are showing, Tesoro." His warm breath teased the tendrils of hair drifting close to one ear. Her eyes glittered with inner anger, their depths darkening to deep silver. His eyes were dark, fathomless as he stared at her lips hungrily. "I can think of a way to expend all that pent-up energy you seem to have back."

Imprisoned in his arms, she began to beat against his chest. "Don't touch me!"

"Si." He urged. "Hit me. Hit me if it makes you feel better."

"Bastard!" She slapped him.

He took her furious slap without flinching. She made a little roar of rage while she drummed and pushed against his chest until she had no energy left, imprisoned in the tiny enclosed space in his arms. He didn't even move. Didn't even flinch. His chest was iron hard and her fists throbbed.

Any fight she had left in her depleted. Every muscle in her body ached. Her knuckles were sore from attacking his men. She shook her head, giving up, her hands falling as she looked up into his eyes.

"I can't do this right now. Let me go. Leave me alone."

Those dark eyes regarded her, changing, glittering heat replacing the raw hunger from earlier.

There was nothing she could do to halt the descent of his mouth or deny it possession of her own. Hard, hungry almost punishing. It defused her anger and shocked her down to her toes, electrifying all her senses. As she struggled to free her head, his hand clutched her hair and held. Shock immobilized her for an instant, and then anger flashed through her like a jolt of lightning. Her body coiled, preparing to strike. But when she attempted to hurt him, she found that Cristiano still held her with ease, his grip on her loosening. His arms held her, but they didn't hurt her, and his lips on hers was an insistent pressure, not an act of domination like earlier.

He deepens the kiss as she slowed her efforts to resist, and was very aware of the pressure of his body against hers. Warmth crept over her skin. Her hands, pressed hard against his chest to ward him off, released their tension. His only response to her weakened surrender was to deepen the kiss. Something in Jasmine responded to the feel of him. She opened her mouth to his kiss. It was insane, stupid, irrational, but one she couldn't resist. She wanted to kiss him. As much as she hated herself and him, right now, she finally allowed the fantasy of his kiss to consume her.

She could not fight the desire any longer.

He was an experienced kisser, his lips and tongue sensually dragging out their kiss. His hands roamed her back, squeezing for a moment than caressing as if he couldn't get enough of the feel of her. Her arms twined around his neck. Her fingers caught in his devil black hair. The blaze of white-hot passion was instantaneous.

He uttered some Italian curse under his breath. Those muscled shoulders rising and falling as he fought to control himself. Her breasts were pillowed against his chest. Jasmine just panted and stared at him. Completely stunned.

Jasmine woke up panting, her forehead and throat damp with perspiration staring at the ceiling in horror. Her hands were clenched on the bedspread on either side of her like she was hanging on for dear life. Her grip loosened and she touched her lips immediately in search if they were swollen from Cristiano's kisses.

She sat up quickly, ran to the dresser mirror and looked at her reflection. There was a crazed glint in her dilated eyes. Her gaze slipped down to her lips. They weren't swollen. She hadn't been kissed. It was all a dream. Jasmine immediately slumped against the dresser, her body bended over the counter.

The last thing she remembered she said to him, "I can't do this right now. Let me go. Leave me alone."

For a moment, she thought she saw him take another step towards her as if to touch her. He had shifted his body within centimeters of hers. Though they made no physical contact, she could feel the warmth of his body. Instinctively, she knew his touch would be her undoing. The hungry gleam in his eyes snapped her out of the strange spell that seemed to enshroud them.

Once the trance shattered, she quickly bent her head, scared to look at him in case she got sucked in by him again, and took the steps of the stairs two at a time. Although she never glanced back, she could feel his eyes burning into her with every step she took as rushed to the bedroom that had been her prison for almost two weeks and quickly collapsed on the bed in her clothing.

She must of passed out, slept and dreamt of the alternate scenario, after he freed her restraints. The brush of his fingers against her ankles scorched her skin alive and the contact made her despise him even more.

She was sick of herself. Sick of this attraction, the static and heat that formed between them. Her only reaction was to be cruel and verbally insult him, promising to make his life miserable. It was the only thing she could do to keep him at arms length before he sensed how he made her feel.

Damn her body. Damn his amused face as he watched her anger grow with every breath she took.

Pure revulsion consumed her. She knew what kind of man he was. What he was capable of. This undesirable attraction she felt for him was toxic. She had to find a way to escape again. She had to in order to save herself before she succumbed to the weakness of her traitorous body. She didn't know if she would be strong enough to continue repelling his appeal. He made her feel things she did not want to feel with him.

He was so handsome, so masculine it was difficult not to find him appealing. He possessed a confidence Jasmine had never felt before from anyone. Any girl would admire his looks and physic. But that wasn't enough to hide what an evil monster he was.

What was more frightening than him was her deepest desires. She was afraid of herself. Afraid of what she was struggling to contain. It killed her knowing she found his dark side sexy and alluring. She wanted him with a passion she had never felt towards anyone before. Perhaps she was one of those girls attracted to dangerous men. Girls who liked the excitement, fed off the power those type of men demonstrated.

He was like wolf, waiting in the shadows, stalking her as his prey until she gave up the chase and let him devour her. She knew he would eagerly accept her into his arms. He'd made his intentions plain and clear on numerous occasions. He'd crack her, his obsession with her would leave her broken.

Oh, why couldn't she be normal? Why didn't she fall for a honorable man who treated her like his equal? Why him of all people?

A crushing sense of being trapped descended upon her.

Jasmine helplessly closed her eyes, hoping, praying for strength. She was not a coward. Never ignored a challenge but her bravery was wavering. But she was drawn to him like magnet to metal and it was getting worse. Every time she saw him, she couldn't help be pulled into his stare, trapped.

Jasmine listened to the strangled cry she released, barely recognizing herself. She dropped her head in her hands. She was going crazy. Feeling crazy. Perhaps all this stress was finally causing her to lose her mind too not just her health. Weak and shaking, she closed her eyes closed feeling like she was on the brink of a meltdown. She had to find another way to escape her captor.

For every second she spent with Cristiano was weakening her resolve and the rock solid wall surrounding her heart which was reserved for holding hate and bitterness for him. A moment of weakness could cost her everything she's worked so hard on preserving.

Her mind. Her body. Her soul.

******

After a few minutes of congratulating his men on their swift work, he took his time making a few quick phone calls and finishing up some paperwork for his businesses. Cristiano wandered up the stairs meaning to pass her room and go into his when he stopped before her door. Without a thought, he opened it, and paused for a moment, eyebrows raised at the sight of her curled up in a ball on the carpet.

He closed the door quietly behind him and stood over her, hand on his hips as he looked her over. She was a mess. Her har was tangled, her shirt stained with dust, her face puffy from crying. She appeared like she had been through war, her face blotchy, her hair sticking to her face.

"Tesoro, you will not do in such a state." He told her with a frown.

She did not stir, her exhaustion keeping her unconscious. Lifting her limp body up in his arms, she still did not wake, as he strode to the bed and gently set her down on the deep mattress. He went to the bathroom and found a porcelain basin. Filling it with lukewarm water, he added scented rose soap and grabbed a washcloth, returning to the bed.

He took his time undressing her, ignoring his thickening arousal. She lay full-length on the bed now, clad in only a bra and panties. He stared down at her, studying the curving lines of her slender, elegant figure. His mouth watered at the sight of the soft white lace.

She was exquisite. A body that would put shame to Aphrodite herself.

He wiped her tearstained and sweaty face first, and she stirred a little, but then she merely nestled against the pillow. He raised the cloth, stroking her white throat and chest, rounding her shoulders and taking his time as he traced the line of her slender arms with the wet, scented cloth.

He rinsed it again, swallowing hard at the sight of her erect nipples against her bra. The lace showed enough. Her nipples were peach colored. Her breasts were full and proud, the rounded curves had him gripping the cloth so hard his knuckles turned white. Shaking his head at himself, he worked the cloth over her chest, to her navel, when he paused to gaze at the creamy expanse of her flat belly.

He laid his hand on her stomach. It was hard with muscle beneath the taunt skin.

Sweat began accumulating on his temples.

"Cristiano." She whispered, in a tiny groan, clutching a handful of the bedspread with her fingers.