Bad Saint
De (autor): Monica James
I was kidnapped on my honeymoon by three masked men.
Blindfolded.
Bound.
Destination unknown.
I was told to stay silent and abide by their rules. But they didn't realize I wasn't a victim...not anymore.
The open sea was my backdrop for nine torturous days. During that time, glimmers of my fate were revealed by a man with the mysterious chartreuse-colored eyes. He should have scared me, but he didn't.
He intrigued me. And I intrigued him.
He punished me when I didn't listen, which was every single day. But beneath his cruelty, I sensed he was guarding a grave secret.
I was sold.
And in a game of poker, no less.
My buyer? A Russian mobster who likes to collect pretty things. Now that I know the truth, I only have one choice.
Sink or swim.
And when one fateful night presents me the opportunity, I take it. I just never anticipated my actions would leave me shipwrecked with my kidnapper.
He needs me alive. I want him dead.
But as days turn into weeks, one thing becomes clear--I should hate him...but I don't.
My name is Willow.
His name is Saint.
Ironic, isn't it? He bears a name that denotes nothing but holiness yet delivers nothing but hell. However, if this is hell on earth...God, save my soul.
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I was kidnapped on my honeymoon by three masked men.
Blindfolded.
Bound.
Destination unknown.
I was told to stay silent and abide by their rules. But they didn't realize I wasn't a victim...not anymore.
The open sea was my backdrop for nine torturous days. During that time, glimmers of my fate were revealed by a man with the mysterious chartreuse-colored eyes. He should have scared me, but he didn't.
He intrigued me. And I intrigued him.
He punished me when I didn't listen, which was every single day. But beneath his cruelty, I sensed he was guarding a grave secret.
I was sold.
And in a game of poker, no less.
My buyer? A Russian mobster who likes to collect pretty things. Now that I know the truth, I only have one choice.
Sink or swim.
And when one fateful night presents me the opportunity, I take it. I just never anticipated my actions would leave me shipwrecked with my kidnapper.
He needs me alive. I want him dead.
But as days turn into weeks, one thing becomes clear--I should hate him...but I don't.
My name is Willow.
His name is Saint.
Ironic, isn't it? He bears a name that denotes nothing but holiness yet delivers nothing but hell. However, if this is hell on earth...God, save my soul.
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