Chapter 4: Bringing Her Home

Ethan's POV

The car drove through empty streets, city lights flashing past the window. Isabella huddled beside me, her face as white as paper, eyes filled with fear.

Her appearance reminded me of the first kidnapping—she had fought like a wildcat, causing my men to lose their composure. But none of that mattered now. She was in my hands. Aria had destroyed my family, and now it was her turn to taste suffering. Isabella was my pawn, and every ounce of her fear was worth it.

"Please, Ethan," she whispered, her voice trembling severely, "I don't want trouble. My mother... she doesn't care about me at all."

I gave her a cold glance. "This is the consequence of being Aria's daughter. She crossed the line, and now you must suffer in her place."

She fell silent, her hands shaking on her knees. The tension in the car was almost palpable. I could see her eyes darting around, searching for any possible escape route. But without a doubt—she had nowhere to run.

The car climbed up the hillside, slowly approaching my estate as the city lights grew dimmer. The gates opened silently, and we drove along the long driveway, stopping at the entrance. I got out first, then roughly pulled Isabella from the car.

"Move," I ordered, dragging her toward the door. She stumbled, struggling to keep up, each step filled with fear.

I pushed the door open and led her inside, the bright lights illuminating her tear-streaked face.

I forced her down onto the living room sofa. Her eyes were frantic, looking around everywhere, yet not daring to move. Footsteps sounded from outside the door. My grandmother Nora stood in the doorway, frowning as she looked over at us.

"Ethan, you're back!" she exclaimed, her eyes bright. "Who is this?"

I sighed, rubbing my temples. "Grandma, it's late. Why aren't you in bed?"

She ignored my question, her gaze fixed on Isabella. "Is she your friend?"

I laughed coldly, without humor. "Just a stray cat I picked up off the street."

A flicker of hope crossed Isabella's eyes, but it quickly vanished as she realized the futility of her situation.

"Grandma, you should go home," I said, signaling to the guards. Her villa was right next door.

Grandma didn't move, her gaze shifting between Isabella and me with a frown. "Ethan, what have you done to this poor girl?"

"Don't worry about it," I replied firmly. "You should be in bed at this hour."

Isabella suddenly stood up and rushed toward my grandmother, falling to her knees. "Please, help me! He's going to hurt me!"

Grandma's eyes widened in shock, her face filled with concern. "Ethan, you can't bring people here and treat them like this. Let her go."

I felt a surge of irritation. "Grandma, this doesn't concern you. Please go home."

She hesitated before reluctantly allowing the guards to escort her out. As the door closed behind them, Isabella's last hope disappeared.

The moment Grandma was out of sight, Isabella desperately tried to run. I caught her easily, gripping her arm tightly.

"Where do you think you can go?" I growled, pulling her back.

"It's the middle of the night," I deliberately lowered my voice. "What should we do to pass the time?"

She swallowed hard. I could almost see the thoughts racing through her mind. She knew she was trapped.

She remained silent as I ran my finger across her lips, feeling them tremble beneath my touch.

"I wonder how Aria would react if I slept with her precious daughter?"

"Please, Ethan, don't do this," she begged, tears welling in her eyes.

"You know what?" I said, "Seeing you look this pathetic makes me want to torment you even more."

I lifted my wrist, showing the bite mark she'd left earlier. "Look at what you did to me."

"I'm sorry," she stammered, staring at the wound, filled with regret. "I'm really sorry..."

I felt my lips curl into a smile. "Lick it."

Her eyes widened with fear. "No, please..."

"Want to leave this place?" I interrupted, watching hope flash in her eyes before she tried to hide it. Smart girl, but not smart enough.

She went quiet, biting her lip as tears gathered in her eyes. She was really going to cry.

"If you won't cooperate..." I let my fingers trail down her neck, feeling her pulse quicken under my touch. Her skin was warm and soft. I moved toward her collarbone, enjoying how she froze. "Maybe I should be the one doing the licking. How does that sound?"

Isabella jerked away as if I'd burned her, stumbling backward until she hit my sofa and collapsed onto it.

"Please don't touch me," she said, her voice small but with unexpected resolve. "If you force me, I'll go to the police. They won't let you get away with it."

I couldn't help but laugh. Actually laughed. God, was she serious?

"Darling, the world isn't black and white. There are many shades of gray." I leaned in closer, watching her press herself deeper into my sofa. "Did you really think I brought you here for a chat?"

I planted one arm on the sofa beside her head, trapping her. When I reached for the buttons on her silk blouse, her eyes widened with panic.

"No!" she finally broke down, blurting out. "No, I'll... I'll do it. I'll lick it."

I straightened up and extended my wrist again. She hesitated, her eyes flashing with one last plea for mercy. Too bad, useless. Her tongue touched my skin, hot as fire, wetly licking over the bite mark. She moved so slowly it seemed almost defiant, and my whole body shuddered, blood rushing to my head. Damn, she shouldn't affect me like this.

She kept her eyes tightly shut, her face red as if burning, her chest rising and falling rapidly against that thin blouse. I should be satisfied now, but all I wanted was to push her down and take her right there on this sofa. I clenched my jaw, suppressing that urge, letting her tongue torture me on my skin.

I yanked my arm away, feeling it tingle as if scalded. This wasn't the plan. She wasn't supposed to make me lose control—she was just a pawn, Aria's offspring, nothing more!

"Enough," I managed to say, my voice rough as if I'd swallowed sand. I turned toward the bar, poured a drink and gulped it down, trying to extinguish this damned fire.

I downed another glass, then another, trying to erase the memory of her tongue on my skin, the softness of her lips, the warmth of her body. No woman had ever affected me like this. I was always the one in control—always. Yet here I was at my own bar, struggling to maintain composure, merely because a woman I was supposed to hate had licked my wrist.

"Damn it," I growled, my voice catching in my throat.