Just as she turned around, she heard the cellar door at the top the stairs close with a soft "click", then slow, steady footsteps coming down the wooden stairs until Craig appeared in the chamber below, looking impeccably dressed in a black suit and crisp white shirt. His hair looked mussed, as though he'd run his fingers through the strands, but it was the eerily calm yet calculated look in his eyes that sparked a sense of unease deep inside her stomach.
"Hey," she said, forcing a cheerful note to her voice and acting as though nothing was wrong. "I just finished picking a bottle of champagne and was coming back up to thank you."
With his hands tucked into the front pockets of his dress pants, he slowly, gradually, strolled toward her, a wholly sexual smile curving the corners of his mouth. "You can thank me just as well down here." His dark gaze raked down the length of her, not bothering to disguise the fact that he wanted her.
His meaning was clear, and as frantic as her heart was beating beneath her breast, she refused to panic or allow him to get the upper hand in the situation if she could help it. She had to get out of there and away from him, pronto.
"It's a bit cold in here, and the party is upstairs." She smiled and visibly shivered for effect. "How about we take this champagne with us and celebrate where it's nice and warm and my teeth aren't chattering?"
She moved to the right to go around him and bolt for the stairs, but he countered the move and blocked the way with his body.
His stare turned hot and predatory. "I thought we could have our own private party down here in the cellar, where it's nice and quiet and we can be all by ourselves."
Oh, God. She couldn't believe this was happening to her. She hugged the chilled champagne to her chest, her fingers gripping the neck just in case she had to use the bottle as a weapon. It was the only protection she had.
"I really need to go, Craig," she said, asserting a firm, confident tone to her voice, despite the fear nearly strangling her. "Ben is waiting for me."
As he moved even closer, he casually ran his finger along a rack holding bottles of wine. "Well, he can wait a bit longer, now can't he?"
Christine lifted her chin, wishing she was taller. Craig was a big, substantial man, and as he neared, he made her feel too damned small and vulnerable, which she hated. Finally, Craig stopped, leaving only a few feet between the two of them. Behind her was a rack of wines, and in front of her, much too far away, were the stairs leading to her freedom. She knew she had to distract him in order to get there.
"Ben will come looking for me if I don't get back to him," she said, knowing it was true.
"He can look for you all he wants, but the cellar door is locked from the outside, and he doesn't have a key." He smiled in a way that made her skin crawl. "According to Jodie, nobody knows you're down here but her, and me, and I made sure she's much too busy to bother us."
Then that meant she was on her own, and she figured the direct approach was all she had left in her favor. "But that doesn't stop me from leaving."
Curling her fingers even more tightly around the neck of the bottle, she stepped around him and headed for the stairs, but he grabbed her upper arm to stop her. Just as he pulled her back around, she swung the bottle of champagne at his head.
He saw it coming and ducked, then came back up just as she aimed it at his head from the other direction. He caught her wrist before the bottle could connect with the side of his face and squeezed tight, until the crushing pain he exerted was too unbearable and she dropped the champagne. The bottle crashed to the floor, exploding in a spray of bubbly liquid and shards of glass that pricked and cut at her bare legs.
He shoved her against a nearby wall, so hard that her head hit the concrete surface and she swore she saw stars. When her vision came back into focus, she realized that he'd braced his hands on either side of her shoulders and had wedged a thigh between hers to keep her trapped against the wall and his body. His face was right in front of hers, and he looked pissed.
His jaw clenched tight, and anger flashed in his eyes. "That was a very expensive bottle of champagne."
If he expected her to apologize, he had another thing coming. "Go to hell," she hissed.
She struggled against him to get away, aiming her nails at his face and eyes, but he was so much stronger than she was, and he managed to subdue her much too easily. He caught both of her hands in one of his, then reached toward a nearby shelf and grabbed a long, thin piece of rope he must have left there earlier. He yanked her arms behind her back and within seconds had the rope wrapped around her wrists and her hands tightly secured.
He was breathing hard by the time he was done, a quiet kind of fury brewing within him. "You really shouldn't be so rude and unappreciative, Christine." He pressed her up against the wall once again, then framed her jaw with one of his big hands so that she couldn't move her head at all, making her all too aware of just how truly helpless she was. "I planned this little surprise birthday party down here just tor you and me, and you're not going anywhere until we're done celebrating. So, you might as well relax and enjoy yourself."
She shuddered, and it had nothing to do with the chill in the air, and everything to do with what his words implied. "If you don't let me go, I'll scream so loud your eardrums will break."
He laughed, the sound arrogant. "You go right ahead. It won't do you much good. Between the cellar being soundproof, and how loud it is upstairs with the band playing, you can scream all you want and no one will hear you." The pressure of his hand on her face eased as he trailed his fingers down her chest to the slope of her breasts. "In fact, I'm fairly certain that by the time I'm done with you, your throat will be raw from screaming."
Bile seemed to fill her mouth. "You're sick."
Her words didn't affect him at all. He was too caught up in his own madness to care. "I've waited patiently for you to come around. For months, I dealt with your rejections. For weeks, I've watched you with Ben, waiting for you to tire of him and come to your senses about me." His voice rose with anger. "I'm tired of waiting, Christy. I'm tired of you fucking another guy and being a whore when you should be mine." In his rage, he grabbed one of the thin rhinestone straps holding up her dress and yanked it hard, ripping it off and sending those small crystals bouncing to the floor.
Terror spiked through her. She could see what was coming, knew that if she didn't keep him talking and distracted that he was going to rape her. Or worse. "Why are you doing this, Craig?" she asked, her calm question belying the fear clawing inside her. "I thought we were friends."
"Friends?" His voice rose incredulously as he pushed away from her, his expression filled with disgust. "You used me, Christy. I've helped you with your business and given you contacts. I was there for you after your nasty breakup with Jason, ready and willing to be the man you needed in your life. But all you did was take and take and take, then discard me like a piece of trash when you no longer needed me."
His bitter words broadsided her, and she suspected that they stemmed from a whole lot more than just her. She was most likely just the catalyst that had sent him over the edge. "You know that's not true," she said, trying to reason with him. "I've appreciated everything you've done for me."
He reached out and caressed the backs of his fingers along her cheek, and she tried not to cringe in revulsion at his touch. "Maybe you'd like to show me just how appreciative you are."
She desperately tried to wrack her brain for some kind of stall tactic. "Not here."
"We're not going anywhere else. We're going to stay right here until I'm done with you." That depraved light in his gaze shone brighter. "Until I've used you the way you've used me. Do you know how long I've waited to get you alone and have you all to myself like this?"