"Miss me, Mrs O'Brien?" Marco's voice dripped playfully from the other end of the phone. It was smooth, dangerous, and intimate in a way that made my skin crawl.
"How did you get this number?"
"I have resources. Surely you've figured that out by now."
"What do you want?"
"To congratulate you on your escape. That was quite a performance at the estate. Very impressive."
"Performance?" Anger flared hot in my chest. "You, your father and his men had me. I could have died."
"But you didn't. You survived. You fought. That's why you're so fascinating, Layla. May I call you Layla?"
"No, you may not."
He laughed softly, clearly amused. "So formal. Even after I sent you a gift."
"I didn't ask you for any gift. In fact, I don't want your gifts."
"The bracelet doesn't suit your taste? I can send something else. Rubies, perhaps? Emeralds to match your eyes?"
"I don't want anything from you. Don't send me anything, and don't call me."
