When I came to, I was pissed. My head was throbbing and I suspected that a spectacular bruise was undoubtedly blooming. Of course, when I tried to inspect it, I found that the bastard had tied me up while I'd been unconscious. I shivered with distaste at the thought of him touching me when I wasn't aware of anything and wouldn't resist. For touching me without my permission, that man's got a target on his back now.
Craning my neck, I get a look and layout of my surroundings. I'm lying on a four-poster bed, hung with burnt golden gauzy curtains. The walls are painted a toned-down pink with small golden crisscross patterns intricately painted. The room is simple but seems grand. Probably because of the color combination. It's feminine but also not too feminine. I grunt and strain against my bonds. A thick rope is twisted around my wrists and feet with complicated knots; the work of an expert kidnapper. I squirm and drag myself towards the edge of the bed and slipping my knotted hand over the small turret I pull, the rope straining and straining.
I don't notice anything else as I attempt to free myself until a cool voice mocks me from behind. "It would be better to save your energy rather than waste it on an impossible task." He says. "Believe me, I've tried too but Castor is quite the knotting expert."
Panting heavily, I pause. Feeling a little self-conscious I take a moment to assess myself without seeing my reflection. From what I can perceive, my head cover is askew, allowing a few wayward curly strands of my coal-black hair through.
Yazaan, I remember him giving me his name, politely and pointedly looked away from me allowing me a semblance of privacy; well as much privacy as I could get in this disheveled state. When I don't move, he sighs and walks over to me pausing at a respectful distance.
"Can I come closer?" He inquires, "To untie your bindings." He clarifies. I give him a curt nod. He moves closer and I train my eyes on him, zeroing in on his handsome features. He was attractive, I'll admit, but this attribute applied only to his face. His manner of treating a woman as well as his personality? That would be a serious debate.
I leap back as soon as I'm free. He only watches bemused. "You are going to pay for this insult with your life." I hiss at him.
"What?" He pretends, innocently, "I was only paying you back." I narrow my eyes at him, his green ones blinking innocently, and then it all comes to me in a rush. I exclaim." It's you! You're the masked person who got in my way at the north aren't you." I ask him, and then remembering how I'd left him there I can't help but grin widely. "What? Is your head still sore?" I laugh at the memory. So that's what he meant by payback. But had yet to find out his reason to kidnap me.
"If memory serves me right, all I did was knock you out. I didn't even touch you so why am I being kidnapped?" I demand. "Because I'm being paid to kidnap you." He replies indifferently.
"Who's paying you?"
"My employer."
"Who's your employer?" I interrogate.
"It's nine of your damn business. You're my prisoner and the prisoner keeps quiet or she'll be very sorry." He snaps.
Instinctively, I heed his words and lean back, glaring at him with hate. He just offers a smug smile and walks out of the room. Exhausted I fall back on the pillows, mentally cursing him and his damned employer.