Yield to Me (6 page)

Brent grinned. The senator had told
him Sophie hardly ever lost control, and so far, he’d seen it happen more than
once. “I’ve been called worse.”

For a moment something about his
mouth seemed to captivate her, before her gaze moved away to meet his. Was that
fear in her eyes? Brent was willing to bet there’d been nothing in her life to
prepare her for the mess she suddenly found herself. Although, according to the
paper, her father had been the object of many such criminal attempts. One of
which he’d been called in to help.

“You won’t get away with this,” she
said quietly, peering at him from beneath the sweep of long lashes. He tried to
pretend her innocent look wasn’t sexy as hell. He reached for his pants and
slipped them on, carefully zipping them up over the bulge of his arousal. He
had to give Sophie credit; she refused to break eye contact with him, even when
he was forced to adjust himself.

“I already have,” he responded
smugly, smiling in the face of her disdain.

She pressed her lips for a second
before voicing, “I’d like nothing better than
to wipe that smile off your face. The security guards couldn’t
have gone far.”

Brent watched as she glanced about
the room. He could just imagine what was going through that conniving mind of
hers. There wouldn’t be much he could do were she to suddenly let out a scream,
or jump off the bed and begin throwing things. He was thankful there were no
pictures, lamps or knickknacks of any kind. Besides a bed and practical dresser,
the only other furniture in the room was a small table and chair in front of
the bay window. He doubted she could throw a chair very far.

Finally, her gaze came back to him,
the expression on her face giving her away. She was going to try something
stupid. “Don’t even think about it,” Brent warned, his stare narrowing on her
threateningly. “Maybe you should consider the fate of others before acting
carelessly.” His brutal reminder quickly cleared the purpose in her eyes.

In time, Brent would tell her
everything but right now the less she knew the better. He needed her convinced
this was the real thing, instinctively knowing if she knew her kidnapping was a
scheme concocted by her own father she wouldn’t remain manageable for very
long.
Especially if she was anything like her father.

“It takes a brave man to control
someone by threatening to hurt innocent people. Your mother must be very proud
of you,” she said in a voice laced with venom, her eyes snapping defiantly at
him.

“Let’s leave my mother out of this,
princess.” His tone was deceptively soft.

“And stop calling me princess,” she
demanded. When Brent leaned toward her, she nervously pulled the coverlet up to
her chin as though it offered protection.

He laughed softly, putting a long
finger beneath her chin and tipping it up. Her lips parted slightly; he was
close enough to feel the warmth of her breath against his face. “What do you
want me to call you?” In spite of her attempt to jerk away he held her firmly.

“Miss Adams,” she replied smartly.

Her comment produced a bark of
humorless laughter from him. She was serious. “I think we’re past those
formalities, don’t you?” His gaze dropped, traveling from the startled
expression in her eyes to her lips. She had a sassy mouth, just begging to be
tamed. The memory of what she felt like squirming beneath him surfaced,
hardening his resolve to ignore her appeal. “Consider yourself our guest until
Lord pays up.” His tone became as cold and sharp as a glacier. She shuddered at
the mention of Jonathan’s name, a reaction that didn’t go unnoticed by Brent.

“What makes you think Jonathan will
pay any ransom to get me back?” she finally voiced.

His brows rose with surprise. “The
fact he loves you. You were supposed to become his wife tomorrow.” Brent
watched her reaction carefully, his gaze narrowing. “Weren’t you?”

Brent schooled himself not to show
any interest by the transformation that came over her face. Her expression suddenly
revealed precisely what she felt for her soon-to-be husband, which confirmed
the senator’s suspicions. She wasn’t exactly ecstatic over the prospect of
marrying the millionaire. The million-dollar question was why. So far the
senator had yet to fill him on all the details. He reached inside his pants
pocket and pulled out the engagement ring he’d snatched off the table on their
way out of her place.

“Maybe wearing his ring will give
you some comfort.” The ring felt heavy in his hand. He glanced down at it, seeing
the many facets of color catching the varying shades of light in the room. He’d
always considered diamonds were cold stones resembling a chunk of ice. He
glanced back at Sophie; she made him think of fiery opals and warm pearls.

Her gaze dropped to his palm and the
truth became transparent in her lovely eyes. If he flushed it down the toilet,
she wouldn’t care. Only he knew she’d never admit to that. She was too well
bred and private, too proud. She raised her chin, meeting his quiet gaze with
the swell of tears swimming in her eyes, exposing her vulnerability. Brent
forced down his protective instincts.

“That stone is worth millions, why
don’t you just keep it and let me go?” she asked, breaking the silence.

He continued to hold the ring toward
her. “Where would be the fun in that?”

She took the ring with obvious
reluctance. “Thank you.” Her low tone exposed the degree of emotion running
through her. For a second Brent was sure he saw how much she detested Jonathan
reflected in her eyes before she masked it. She curled her hand around the cold
stone until her knuckles turned white. “What now? You gag me and tie me to the
bed?”

“That’s up to you. If you give me
your word you’ll behave, you can have the freedom to move around the room. Double
cross me, and I’ll be forced to keep you drugged.”

“Drugged!”
Her eyes grew round. It was clear she didn’t like the thought, yet
she didn’t say anything more. It didn’t take a genius to realize she was
weighing her options. Did she think his offer of moving around freely would
lead to escape? “Do you have any clothes for me?”

Brent’s gaze took in her ruined
gown. Bending, he scooped up his shirt and tossed it to her. “Put this on for
now.” She caught it against her, but otherwise didn’t move. The silence between
them grew.

“What now?” He didn’t try to
disguise the impatience in his tone.

“Surely you don’t expect me to put
this on while you stand there watching?”

“Why not?
A minute ago I had my mouth on your nipple and my hand close to
your pussy.”

“You could do the gentlemanly thing
and turn around.”

It was clear she was going to ignore
the lustful episode between them. Brent couldn’t help it. He burst out
laughing. “You take the cake, princess.” He released a resigned sigh when she
didn’t show any signs of budging, and spun around so she could slip into his
shirt. “Don’t try anything cute; Tom’s in the other room.”

“You could leave the room…”

“Don’t press your luck.”

Brent grinned at her huff, and then
nearly swallowed his tongue when he caught sight of Sophie in the mirror over
the dresser. Neither of them had given it a thought. But he could clearly see
everything the lady had to offer. She released the comforter, and his gaze
rapidly took in her full breasts, the nipples still hard, narrow waist, and the
flare of her hips.

Before he had time to fully
appreciate what he was looking at she quickly slipped into his shirt, doing up
every button from the neck to the hem. She started to slide the ring on her
finger but opened the nightstand drawer instead. He watched her drop it inside.
Then, just as she was about to close the drawer she hesitated, and he knew her
gaze had fallen on the gun he’d placed in there earlier.

Her gaze flew to him. It was clear
she was still unaware that he could see her in the mirror. He recognized the
indecision on her expression, right before she made a desperate grab for it. As
she brought the small, black revolver up, Brent swung around. And before he
knew it, he was staring down the barrel of his own weapon.

Another time and he would have been
amused at how badly the gun was shaking in her small hand. It appeared heavy
and awkward, and he suspected she’d never handled one before. That could be
dangerous, if the safety wasn’t on. Their stares met, and clung. Fear churned
in her pretty eyes, yet not enough to cause her to drop the gun. She pointed it
at Brent as though she had experience handling it.

“For a man with a gun pointed at him
you don’t look very concerned.” She had the guts to say.

Brent could tell his grin unnerved
her. “What are you going to do with that?”

Her expression revealed his lack of
response wasn’t exactly what she’d been hoping for. She was more frightened
than he was and she was the one with the gun. Testing her, Brent took a step in
her direction; she took a step back in reaction. She gasped when the back of
her thighs came up against the edge of the bed. It shouldn’t have, but the look
in her calculating eyes set his blood on fire. He never could back down from a
challenge.

She wet her lips before saying,
“Please, don’t make me shoot you.” Her stare clung to his. Brent took another
step forward, knowing there was nowhere for her to retreat. Nowhere to go
except back on the bed, and he doubted she’d do that willingly. “All I want to
do is leave.”

Brent shook his head slowly. “Sorry,
princess, no can do.” He halted within a foot of her, taking in the fact her
hand was already weakening from the unaccustomed weight of the gun. “I guess
you’ll just have to shoot me.” He held his arms out as if offering her an easy
target.

Instincts warned Brent she’d never
shoot him, even if she could. He probably stood a better chance of having the
gun thrown at him. As the silence stretched between them, he saw tears of
frustration slip from her eyes and that sexy bottom lip tremble slightly. He
swore beneath his breath and clenched his teeth, unprepared for the feeling her
vulnerability had on him. A poised, spirited Sophie he could deal with.

“Damn you!” she sobbed huskily,
surprising them both by the passion in her tone.

Brent reached forward and took the
gun from her hand. “You couldn’t have shot me anyway. The safety is still on.”
In spite of the tears slipping down her face, she held her ground. Reacting to
her softness, Brent surprised himself by gently wiping her cheek with the back
of his hand. “I’m not going to hurt you.” He felt compelled to promise.

“I don’t believe you.”

The mistrust in her eyes said it
all. Brent didn’t blame Sophie for not believing him.
Why should she when everything I’ve done so far led her to presume I’m
a villain?
A sucker for redhead, blue-eyed females in distress, he knew if
he didn’t force himself to walk away from her, it was just a matter of time
before he took her into his arms to comfort her. And what kind of a kidnapper
would that make him? Not a very credible one, that was for sure.

“I can’t help that.” He tucked the
gun in the waistband of his pants, opening the closet door and reaching for a
shirt. He slipped it on, buttoning it as he faced her again. “Just remember, I
could have hurt you at any time and didn’t.” To prove how ruthless he could be
Brent’s gaze raked over her, visually stripping her naked. “I could have forced
myself on you when we were putting on that little show.”

“You practically did.”

“Oh no, princess.”
He let his gaze slowly drop over her. “I clearly remember how
responsive you were. And I bet my fingers would have found you wet and hot down
there. Be glad I didn’t take you up on it.”

“Thank you for restraining yourself;
that was gentlemanly of you.”

That haughty little tone rubbed him
the wrong way and he clenched his teeth to keep from telling her to go to hell.
It was apparent she wasn’t going to give him credit for anything. He decided to
do the
gentlemanly
thing and ignore
her statement. “This will be your castle for a few days. There’s a bathroom
through that door.” He indicated the direction with a nod. “The TV…”

“What about a phone? I’d like to
call my father and let him know I’m all right.”

She was kidding, right? Brent didn’t
have time for her smart mouth, which was only going to land her in trouble.
“I’ll be in touch with daddy,” he said with cool authority.
“But
what about Lord?”
She didn’t seem to care about his feelings.

A knock at the door saved her from
having to respond. Tom’s voice came through loud and clear. “You have a phone
call to make.”

Brent’s eyes darted to the clock on
the dresser. It was almost twelve.
“My cue to leave,
princess.”
He stared at her long and hard, trying to decide if he should
tie her to the bed and forget about anything else. “You could probably scream
your head off and no one would hear you, but I’m not willing to take that chance.
I’ll take your word you’ll behave and won’t make any noise. What’s it going to
be?”

“Why should you believe me?”