14 June 2021

Hey, everyone! Here's the third chapter, I hope you all like it! Sorry for such a long wait! 

"Our greatest joy and our greatest pain come in our relationships with others." - Stephen R. Covey

Liyana's POV

I'm still trapped. It's been three days, and I'm still stuck here. There's no way out. I've checked everywhere. There's no secret door in this room, there's nothing. It's been three days, and I don't think I'll be getting out of here anytime soon.

But that doesn't mean that I'm giving up.

Every time I think back to Mum and Shehryaar Bhai, my eyes fill up with tears and I get so angry. Although they, too, have never shown too much love towards me because they're afraid of my father, I know that they love me dearly. Mum doesn't know where her daughter is, or what state she's in. I know how guilty she must be feeling, and upset too. But she won't dare to ask my father. She's never, ever spoken up to him. She'd never dare.

I had made up a plan in my mind, to be 'nicer' to my kidnapper. To that mysterious man who's holding me captive. But I haven't seen him again after that day. I'm glad I haven't seen him. He infuriates me. He doesn't tell me why he's keeping me here, what I ever did to him that would explain why he's kidnapped me. And also, I'm glad I haven't seen him because he scares me. He scares me a lot, but I'm never going to admit that.

I've been making use of the shower, and the clothes that are in the walk-in closet. The closet is full of designer clothes from all over the world. Only the best brands. And what scares me, is that every single item of clothing in the closet is of my size. Everything fits me perfectly, like everything was bought for me. I don't want to think too much into that, though. Not right now.

I've just finished taking a shower, and I've changed into a pair of maroon silk pyjamas. The maroon button-up shirt has half sleeves that reach my elbows, and it fits me nicely. It's paired with maroon silk pyjama trousers that fit my curves and petite size comfortably. I walk out of the bathroom, drying my hair roughly with a thick, soft white towel, when I see a tall, broad-shouldered man standing in front of me. He looks at me briefly, before his gaze moves to the wall behind me.

I frown. I've never seen him before. He's tanned, and he must be in his late thirties. I wonder who he is. I look towards my bed. Dinner hasn't been brought to me yet. It's usually here by now.

I cross my arms over my chest, uncomfortably.

"Boss wants to meet you. He's downstairs, in the living room," he says, professionally.

I raise an eyebrow. 'Tell your boss he can go- okay. Let me get changed. I assume you'll wait for me until I change, in case I escape through the open door?' I say, sarcastically.

"He needs to see you right now."

I frown. 'Like this? I'm in my pyjamas,' I scoff, getting annoyed.

He nods. "He doesn't like to wait."

'Got it,' I mutter, taking a deep breath. I'm afraid to be seeing him again after three days, but at the same time, I'm glad to be finally getting out of this room, even if it's for a short while. I wonder what he wants with me, though.

Fear starts to run down my spine. Does he want to hurt me? Why else would he want to see me? It's bad enough that he's kidnapped me and is keeping me here against my will, but does he want to physically hurt me too, now?

Goosebumps form all over my body as I leave the room, following the man who's walking a few steps ahead of me. He doesn't look back once. He knows very well that I'm following him. What else would I do?

I follow him down several corridors, down several flights of stairs, walking for over five minutes until I reach the same room as I was in the other day. The large, warm, dimly lit living room with the huge fireplace.

My heart rate picks up as I see him. The man who brought me to this room leaves without another word.

He's standing near the fireplace, looking away from me. Once again, he's dressed in black from head to toe. He's wearing a form-fitting black shirt that clings to all his muscles, black dress pants and black dress shoes. He's tall, he's so tall. He's definitely over six feet tall.

My palms start to feel sweaty, and I wipe them on my pyjama pants. My heart's pounding wildly in my chest, my heartbeat loud and clear, ringing in my ears. My feet are rooted to the spot. He scares me a lot.

He slowly turns to face me, and my eyes widen slightly. He's my damn kidnapper, I shouldn't be finding him hot. Or sexy.

Liyana, get a grip on yourself!

His dark hair is tousled, his eyes dark as they assess me. As they run over me. I wet my dry lips, my gaze falling to the ground. If I look at him for a little too long, I start to lose myself. What on earth? He's kidnapped me, and I'm... I'm pretty sure he has this effect on every girl, though.

My eyes travel back up slowly to look at him. His shirt fits him a little too nicely, his muscles pressing tightly against it. His biceps look huge, he's so big compared to me. I look tiny compared to him.

'Liyana. Delicate, tender, soft,' he whispers huskily, walking towards me in his confident stride. He knows what my name means.

He's in front of me in three steps, his legs long. He towers over me, he's way taller than me. I'm a small girl, but he's at least a foot taller than me.

I don't speak. My mouth dries at the sight of him. He's the epitome of perfection, of masculinity. I can smell his signature scent, a mixture of sandalwood, vanilla and musk. He smells delicious.

"W-why did you want to see me? Are you letting me go?" I stutter, my heart thumping loudly in my chest.

'You're having dinner with me,' he says, casually.

I frown, my eyes locking with his hard ones. "W-what?" Is all I'm able to say. I'm dumbfounded. Why on earth does he want me to have dinner with him? It's definitely another part of his twisted plan, but why?

"Follow me," he whispers huskily, as he starts to walk out of the room. I have no choice but to follow him. I don't think the consequences would be good if I didn't listen to him. My plan from earlier enters my mind. I have to be 'nice' to him, in the hope that he'll let me out of here. If I don't listen to anything he says, he won't let me go anywhere.

I follow him into a large dining room, with the biggest and longest dining table I've seen. The table is entirely covered with all sorts of food.

"Sit," he orders, nodding over to a chair near the one he takes. However, I sit two chairs away from him. I want to be as far from him as I can. He intimidates me.

He takes a seat at the head of the table, and he raises an eyebrow at where I choose to sit. He doesn't speak, though.

I stare at the food on the table, and I shift uncomfortably in my seat. I don't know why he suddenly wants me to have dinner with him.

"Eat," he orders, placing some food into his plate.

I nod, placing a small piece of baguette and some roasted vegetables into my plate. He looks at my plate, but doesn't speak.

He starts to eat, and I follow. I take a small nibble of the baguette, which is delicious. However, I'm not very hungry right now. I've lost my appetite. I was hungry earlier, but not anymore. How am I meant to eat in front of him?

I place the piece of baguette back into my plate, and I look over at him, trembling in my seat. It's scary, it's so frightening. He scares me even more than my father ever did, and my father's a terrible person.

'W-why did you want me to eat with you? Were you bored?' I blurt, my voice shaking. My eyes widen when I realise what I've said. How dumb am I, asking him if he's bored?

He lifts his eyebrow a fraction of an inch, his face not showing any emotion. "You do not have the right to ask me any questions."

What a moron? What an asshole!

I frown, biting my tongue to not answer him back.

"I'm the only one in this room who can ask questions. Do you understand?" He asks slowly, before taking a sip of orange juice.

I nod quickly. I want to get out of here as soon as I can, so I have to listen to him. I have to agree to everything he says.

"Eat," he mutters, glancing again at my plate.

'I'm not hungry,' I whisper, inaudibly. However, he hears me very clearly.

"Do you want to get out of here or not?" He asks, his eyes cold and emotionless.

I nod, my eyes filling with tears. I miss home. I never thought I'd ever think this, but I do. I feel homesick. I want to be at home, with my family. I don't even know where I am. Am I even in London? I don't think so.

I force myself to eat, swallowing the food down with water. It's delicious, but I'm not hungry.

Ten minutes later, we've both finished eating. Well, I've eaten as much as I could without being sick. I'm starting to feel nauseous. I put down my fork and peek up at him through under my lashes.

His eyes are on me, he's assessing me silently. He puts down his fork too, before speaking.

'Once a week, you'll have dinner with me, and then we will have a... session,' he speaks confidently.

I frown, my eyes meeting his. "W-what? Once a week? I'm here for more than a week? And what session?" I ask, rambling. I don't like the sound of this. I don't like the sound of this at all. What is he talking about?

'Our first session is today, now. A session where I ask you questions, and you must answer truthfully. I'll know if you're not telling me the truth. If you want to get out of here, you'll have to tell me the truth. The whole truth,' he says coldly, running his index finger over the light stubble on his jawline.

"W-why?" I ask, confused as hell about all of this. Now he wants a question session with me? He wants to know every tiny little detail of my life? I know he'll use everything I tell him in these sessions against me.

'Do you want to get out of here or not?' He asks, quizzically.

I nod silently.

"Good girl. I don't think this is the right place for our session. You need to be comfortable," he speaks.

I frown, but I don't say anything. Now he wants me to be comfortable? I'm confused as hell.

'Follow me,' he speaks, before standing up. I rise to my feet, my legs trembling underneath me. I follow him out of the dining room, down several corridors, and up a flight of stairs. We walk down another long, dimly lit corridor and then up another winding flight of stairs. We've been walking for almost ten minutes, and it's hard to keep up with his pace. I'm out of breath, and my legs are starting to ache.

I don't know what part of the building this is, but I've never seen it before. Not that I've seen much at all of this mansion, castle, whatever it is. I've been trapped in one room. This building is eerily beautiful.

We reach the end of another long, dimly lit corridor, and there's no one in sight. Goosebumps form on my arms, and all over my body. I'm all alone with him here, he could do anything to me and no one would find out. I'm terrified.

I hug myself, running my hands up and down my arms. It's cold.

We come to a stop, and he takes an old-looking, rusty key out of his pocket. I frown, but I don't speak. I have to listen to everything he says, if I want to get out of here.

He unlocks the door and pushes it open. We step inside, and he turns on a light. I relax very slightly when I realise that we've entered what looks like a living room. A small, cosy and thankfully warm living room. The walls are high, made out of the strongest stone. The room has a rustic feel to it, and I'm pleasantly surprised. The sofas are made out of what looks like plush, maroon leather, and all the rest of the furniture is made out of brown hardwood. The two armchairs that he leads us over to are also made out of maroon leather.

He takes a seat in one of them, and motions over to the other one with his hand. I reluctantly take a seat, my heart rate accelerating again when I see him staring at me. His eyes, as usual, hold no emotion. I can't tell what he's thinking, at all.

My gaze falls to my hands in my lap, and I nervously play with the hem of my shirt. I can't seem to keep still. He scares me so much.

'Why am I here?' I whisper, frightened as hell.

He's silent for a few seconds before he answers. "As I said before, you're not the one who will ask questions. You'll only answer my questions, truthfully and fully. I'll know if you're hiding anything from me, and it won't be good for you." A shiver runs down my spine at his words.

I stay quiet, not daring to ask him another question. I have a million different questions running through my mind, though. But I won't be getting any answers.

'Tell me about your studies,' he says, his eyes fixated on me.

I frown, confused. Why does he want to know about my studies? That's so weird, and so random.

"Erm.. my studies? Okay, then. I'm studying a psychology and business joint honours degree," I tell him, trying to keep my voice even. I'm trembling, though.

'Psychology, maybe, but you don't seem like the type to study business,' he says, raising an eyebrow at me.

My eyes widen slightly. "Because I'm not," I answer truthfully.

He continues to stare at me, demanding for an explanation. 'I enjoy the psychology part of my degree, but not the business part. I wasn't... born to study business.'

"Then why are you studying it?" He simply asks, crossing his arms over his chest. His biceps are pressing against the cloth of his shirt, they're huge. I can't stop staring at him.

'I had no choice,' I blurt out, before my eyes widen in shock. Should I have told him that? Why am I blurting out everything to him? He's kidnapped me.

"Continue," he orders, his voice calm and cool.

I swallow, staring down at my hands again. I sigh, and I force a smile. 'Since I was a child, I wanted to study medicine. I wanted to become a doctor, and I got the grades, too. But.. no. I wasn't allowed to study medicine, I don't know why. My father wanted me to study business, which I didn't want at all. After months of trying to convince him, he signed me up for a psychology and business joint honours degree. So that's what I'm studying today,' I say, with a shrug.

"He forced you to study a degree you were not interested in? What kind of father does that?" He asks, his eyes on mine.

I laugh humourlessly. 'My father,' I whisper, my throat dry and hoarse. I cough to clear my throat.

He's silent for a moment or two. "Tell me about your fiancé."

My heart stops in my chest, and my eyes widen in fear. I shake my head furiously, but he speaks. "Talk."

I close my eyes shut tightly, forcing myself to take a deep breath. 'Ayaan Abdullah,' I mutter, my expression changing into one of fury and disgust as I say his name. 'He works with my father, and he's a multi-millionaire too, like him. Ayaan's my father's business partner, my father's always thought of him as family.'

"He's quite well known in the city, for the bad reasons," he speaks. He knows everything, yet he wants me to tell him everything myself.

I scoff. 'That's him.'

"Love marriage?" He asks, raising an eyebrow at me.

I laugh humourlessly. 'I don't think it's possible for any girl to fall in love with Ayaan.'

"Then why are you engaged to him?" He asks me, smirking.

'Don't you have anything better to do than quiz me?' I ask, getting annoyed.

"Answer me," he demands.

I sigh, shaking my head. 'My father,' I mutter, helplessly.

"He forced you to marry Ayaan?" He asks, his jaw set.

'You came at the right time, you know? You kidnapped me at the right time. I had just gotten engaged that evening...' I trail off.

He smirks. "You should be thanking me, then."

I take my gaze to his face, and I sigh. 'Never.'

He cocks an eyebrow at me. "You should be afraid of me."

'I am. You kidnapped me, you're keeping me hostage, against my will. But...' I trail off, frowning.

"But?"

'But you're not that kind of monster,' I say, sighing. I don't know why, I don't know how, but I know that he's not that kind of monster. He's not as bad as my father.

His expression falters for a second. "Oh, Liyana. I'm worse than any monster you've ever experienced in the past."

A chill runs down my spine, but I lock eyes with him, gathering my confidence. 'You're not,' I say, standing up.

"Where do you think you're going?" He asks, raising his voice.

'Stretching my legs. I'm sure you want me to be comfortable,' I speak, before taking a seat opposite him again. My legs are trembling with fear and nervousness.

His jaw tenses, and he takes me in fully, from head to toe. He stands to his feet, and he strides over to me, leaning down. He whispers into my ear, "I'm going to break you little by little. You should be more afraid of me than you are."

I'm terrified, but I won't show it to him. I know he's a monster, but he's not as bad as my father. He's not as bad as my fiancé. I lift my gaze to meet his eyes, his face inches away from mine. 'What are you going to do? You're going to hurt me? Hit me? Punch me? You're going to starve me and beat me? Do it then. Do it now, I've had worse,' I whisper, challenging him.

His gaze falls to my lips, and I shiver. He takes a hand to my face, caressing gently. I didn't know he had it in him to be gentle, in anything.

What the hell is wrong with me? Why am I not hating his touch? I move my face back, making him smirk. "I have something else in mind for you, angel. Something you'll never have imagined."

I frown, giving him the dirtiest look I can muster. 'Why are you doing this to me? What have I ever done to you?' I mutter, quietly.

"Shh, shh, shh. I'm sure you don't want to make things more difficult for yourself, do you angel?" He whispers, staring into my eyes, his emotionless and cold. 

He moves his face close to my ear, and he breathes in my scent, closing his eyes. When he opens them again to look at me, they're darker than ever. He stares at me for a few seconds, before he goes back to his armchair and takes a seat. 

He scratches the stubble across his jawline, his eyes fixated on me. Even his hands are beautiful. 

My heart hammers loudly in my chest as I look everywhere but at him. He makes me too nervous. I'm afraid of him, but not as afraid as I am of my father. 

'He's sent out a search party for you. Your father,' he tells me, smirking. 

I swallow, afraid. "He'll find you, and he'll make you suffer," I reply, daring to look at him.

He laughs loudly at this, and it makes me jump. 'We'll see who makes who suffer. Only time will tell.'

I frown, deep in thought. "Why do you hate me so much? What did I do? And who even are you? I don't even know your name," I say, in a hurry. 

He's in front of me in a second. He towers over me, looking down at me. He's standing dangerously close to me, and my breath hitches in my throat. He's so close, I can feel the heat radiating from his body. 

"I told you, you do not have the right to ask me any questions," he mutters, angrily. 

I tilt my head up to meet his gaze. He's so much taller than me, so much bigger than me. I'm tiny in front of him. But I won't give up. I need to get out of here. 'I have the right to know,' I say, looking into his dark, emotionless depths. 

He pulls me up by my shoulders, his fingers digging into them. His hands are so large, so strong. I groan, trying to pull away from him, but he's much too strong. 

'Let go of me,' I mutter, trying to pull him away. But he won't listen. 

"I suggest you listen to me. I could do anything I wanted with you, in one second. One second is how long it would take for me to harm you. I'm your worst nightmare, angel. You don't even know where you are. No one knows you're here, and your father will never find you here," he says, his voice cold.

'You could harm me in one second? Then hurt me. Kill me, what are you waiting for? Why haven't you already? Because you won't. That's not why you have me here,' I challenge, glaring at him with all the confidence that I have. My legs are trembling underneath me, though. I'm scared of him. 

I'm pushed up against a wall, his fingers digging into my shoulders. It's painful. 

'Let go of me!' I yell, thrashing and kicking, but he won't let go of me. What the hell does he want?

He smirks, taking a step closer. I'm almost pressed up against him now. I'm surprised when he does let go of me. He lets go of my shoulders, but he takes his right hand to my face, pushing back a strand of hair behind my ear. His touch sends a jolt of electricity through my entire body. 

Then, he speaks. "You have no idea how badly I want to hurt you right now." 

Fear runs down my spine, and I'm trembling. But I can't show how afraid I am. 'But you won't,' I whisper, looking up at him. His jaw is tense, and he's staring at me with so much hatred. 

"Not yet," he says, laughing evilly. "Go back to your room." 

I frown. How on earth am I supposed to know the way back to my room? I've never been in this part of the building before, and it's a huge, huge building. I'm definitely going to get lost. 

I guess it's time to explore my new home. 

********

Hey, everyone! How are you all? It's been a while!

What did you think of the third chapter? What do you think of our characters so far? I'd love to know! 

Don't forget to vote and comment if you liked the chapter! 

Question: What are your favourite clothing brands?

Bye guys!