Sentenced to Marriage by MadlainQ

Reckless

I stood in front of the door of some conference room. My hand froze in the knocking gesture, an inch away from the door’s surface. I could just act like an idiot and open the door just to see that guy’s face, but all of my instincts were telling me to run the hell away from there. My heart thundered as I wondered if I should take a gamble and face the person who wanted Aren and me dead. Finally, instead of barging inside, I leaned against the wall right by the door crack and tried to hear more…

“I cannot guarantee that this method will work in this specific situation.” I heard another voice coming from that room. The voice seemed calm and much softer than the voice of my kidnapper. “What we can be certain of is that the suggestion will stay engraved inside that man’s mind, and he will react to the keywords in a certain way.”

“What way?!” my kidnapper roared. “The whole mission is useless if we cannot even lead him the way we want to!”

Whatever it was that they were planning, it couldn’t be anything good. They mentioned keywords and suggestions like they were planning to manipulate or brainwash someone… But who, and what for?

Suddenly, I heard the heavy footsteps of several people walking through the corridor. I had no idea who they might be, but my brain screamed danger. I started running further along the long and spacious corridor, hearing the footsteps getting closer. It sounded like those people were just around the corner, leaving me a few seconds at most to hide.

“‘Think, Cora! Think!” I tried to motivate my brain to fight against the increasing panic. All of a sudden, I noticed a closet room a little further away, on the opposite side of the room

per was. I lurched at the door, praying that it would be open. I jerked the door handle but with no effect. The sound of the footsteps was getting more and more vivid; it was my only chance. As I rammed the door with all the strength that I had, I somehow forced it open. Thankful for the instant rush of adrenalin, I jumped inside the tiny space between the brooms and mops and closed the door, leaving only a small gap to glimpse through.

A second later, I saw five men in black suits walking through the corridor. They resembled bodyguards. Was I acting like a lunatic? There could be many people at this party who had brought their own security. Perhaps assuming that they were dangerous was a bit too farfetched. Then I started to think how idiotic a girl with a fifty-million dollar diamond on her neck hiding in a broom closet looked… While I inwardly mocked myself, those five men walked closer and then stopped in front of the door where my kidnapper was. I gulped as I discovered that my assumptions were rather correct. One man from the group stepped forward. He was shorter than the rest but had the most intimidating aura. He had short black hair, and his posture was terrifyingly familiar. I didn’t have to see his face to recognize him.

mumbled under

The rest of the men stepped aside as if they feared

closet, trying to steady my breath and prevent myself from

a single step out into the corridor, terrified to get caught by someone from Max’s

a series of deep breaths, calming my mind enough to think about what I had just witnessed. It became clear that Max was either working for my kidnapper or working with him. It meant that the man who kidnapped me and Mr. C. could be the

act recklessly. You are no superwoman, and you should use your brain instead of muscles…. which you don’t possess,”

and waste this opportunity. I took the phone out of my purse and called Aren, marking that as an

staring at the phone, which kept losing reception. It looked like I was out of cautious ideas. I took another deep breath, leaned my head out into the corridor, and walked out after I found it empty. I took a few quiet steps closer to

shithead. I’m seriously tired of hearing about this fucking great plan when it would

the mess you left behind,” Max hissed. “You are lucky that the old Winton is wise enough not

the situation with my kidnapping. But what about the old Winton that Max mentioned? Was he talking about James or Augustus? Did the Wintons know about this man who kidnapped

anymore. You can tell him that, shithead.” It sounded like the one

“Do you have a death wish, Haskett? Play nice or

kidnapper’s name? I knew that standing by that door was reckless, but we needed to at least find

snapped.