kidn*pped while running from my arranged marriage

Chapter 5

The oversized T-shirt felt like a man's, the fabric soft but the implication unsettling. Rihanna's mind reeled as she tried to recall anything, but her memories were hazy. Had Denzel undressed her while she slept? The thought made her skin crawl. She threw off the covers and swung her legs over the side of the bed, her feet dangling in the air. She needed answers, and she needed them now. Where was Denzel? And what did he plan to do with her?

Rihanna's eyes widened as she took in the sight of Denzel standing in the kitchen, his broad back and muscular shoulders on full display. The dim lighting highlighted the contours of his physique, and for a moment, she forgot to be scared. He was cooking something that smelled amazing, and the domesticity of the scene was jarring. She felt a flush rise to her cheeks as she quickly looked away, trying to process the mix of emotions swirling inside her. How could her captor seem so... normal?

Rihanna's voice trembled slightly as she asked, "W-who... got me in this?" her eyes darting to the oversized T-shirt she wore, her gaze lingering on the unfamiliar fabric. Denzel turned off the stove, his movements economical, and turned to face her, his expression unreadable. For a moment, he didn't respond, his eyes simply holding hers, and then he said, "I did." His voice was low, matter-of-fact, but it sent a shiver down her spine.

Rihanna's face burned with indignation and outrage, her voice rising in anger. "You p*****t! How dare you!" she spat, her words tumbling out in a furious rush. Denzel's expression didn't change, but his eyes seemed to gleam with a hint of amusement, which only fueled her fury. She took a step forward, her hands clenched into fists, her body trembling with rage. "How could you do that? she demanded, her voice shrill with emotion.

Denzel raised an eyebrow, his gaze drifting from her face to her clenched fists and back again. "I was trying to be a gentleman," he said dryly, his voice a calm contrast to her fury. "You were sleeping. I didn't want you to have to wear that... dress anymore." His words were pragmatic, but the gleam in his eye suggested he was enjoying her outrage. Rihanna's anger seemed to amuse him, and that only made her angrier. "You have no right," she seethed, her voice low and venomous.

I closed my eyes while doing it though there's not much to see Denzel teased further.

Rihanna's face turned beet red with rage and humiliation. "Shut up!" she snapped, her voice trembling with fury. "You have no right to talk about this, no right to touch me, no right to anything!" She took another step forward, her eyes blazing with anger. Denzel's teasing had crossed a line, and she was ready to explode. The air between them crackled with tension as she waited for his response, her heart pounding in her chest.

Denzel's gaze had drifted to the delicate necklace around Rihanna's neck, his eyes narrowing as he took in the intricate design. Instead of responding to her outburst, he took a step closer to her, his movements fluid and controlled. His fingers reached out, and he gently lifted the pendant, examining it with a curious expression. Rihanna felt a jolt of surprise at the sudden change in his demeanor, her anger momentarily forgotten as she watched him study the necklace with an intensity that seemed almost...familiar.

Denzel's eyes snapped up to Rihanna's face, his expression urgent. "Take it off," he ordered, his voice low and commanding. Rihanna's eyes widened in confusion, but Denzel's gaze was fixed on the necklace, his fingers still grasping the pendant. "Now," he added, his voice firm, as if every second counted. Rihanna's hands instinctively went to the clasp, her fingers fumbling as she tried to comply with his demand. What was wrong with the necklace?

Denzel's eyes locked onto the necklace, his expression grim. He knew exactly what that tiny device meant - Rihanna had been tracked to this location. Whoever was searching for her would likely find her soon. His grip on the pendant tightened, his mind racing with the implications. "Get it off, now," he repeated, his voice urgent. Rihanna's fingers moved quickly, trying to undo the clasp as Denzel's anxiety seemed to grow by the second. The stakes had just escalated, and Denzel knew they had to move fast.

Rihanna's fingers finally managed to release the clasp, and the necklace fell into Denzel's waiting hand. He quickly pocketed the device, his eyes scanning the surroundings as if searching for an escape route. "We need to get out of here, now," he said, his voice low and decisive. Rihanna's eyes darted around the room, her heart racing with fear. Denzel's urgency was contagious, and she felt a surge of adrenaline as she followed him towards the door. "What's going on?" she demanded, trying to keep up with his long strides. Denzel didn't answer, his focus fixed on getting them to safety.

Rihanna's mind was racing as she followed Denzel, her knowledge of the situation adding to her fear. She knew her father's men and Richard Snr's men were after her, and being with Denzel might not be the safest option. Yet, she had no other choice but to trust him for now. As they moved swiftly through the house, Rihanna's thoughts were a jumble of questions and fears. What did Denzel plan to do with her? Could she trust him? And what would happen when they were caught? The stakes were high, and Rihanna's senses were on high alert as they neared the door. She could feel her heart pounding in her chest, her breath coming in short gasps. Denzel's hand closed around her wrist, his grip firm as he pulled her along, his eyes scanning the surroundings with a mixture of caution and determination. "Stay close," he whispered, his voice barely audible, and Rihanna nodded, her eyes fixed on him as they stepped out into the unknown.

Denzel's long strides ate up the distance as they sprinted across the open beachside, the wind whipping Rihanna's hair into a frenzy as she struggled to keep up. The vast expanse of sand stretched out before them, with no buildings or structures to provide cover. Denzel's gaze swept the horizon, his eyes scanning for any sign of rescue or escape. The sound of waves crashing against the shore filled the air, but Rihanna's ears were tuned to the sound of pursuit, her heart racing with every step. She could feel Denzel's hand like a vice around her wrist, pulling her along as they fled across the sand. Where were they going? And what lay ahead?

The sun beat down on them, casting long shadows across the sand as they ran. Rihanna's breath was coming in ragged gasps, her legs aching from the exertion. Denzel's pace didn't falter, his eyes fixed on some point in the distance. Suddenly, he veered sharply to the left, pulling Rihanna along with him. She followed his gaze and saw a small boat bobbing in the waves, a figure standing at the helm. Denzel's plan became clear - they were going to make a break for the sea. Rihanna's heart skipped a beat as she realized their escape route. Would they make it? Or would their pursuers catch up?

The yacht loomed closer, its deck crowded with men in black suits, their faces cold and unyielding. Rihanna's heart sank as she recognized the telltale signs of her father's and Richard Snr's men - the ruthless efficiency, the calculating gazes, the unmistakable air of menace. They would stop at nothing to capture her. Denzel's hand was like a vice around her wrist, his eyes locked on the yacht with a calculating intensity. Rihanna knew they had to act fast - the yacht was gaining on them, and their chances of escape were dwindling by the second. "What now?" she demanded, her voice barely audible over the sound of the waves. Denzel's gaze never wavered, his jaw set in determination. "We get out of here," he growled, his eyes fixed on the small boat waiting for them.

Denzel's hands moved swiftly, retrieving the guns and bullets from their hiding place. Rihanna's eyes widened as she took in the sight of the firearms, her mind racing with the implications. They were going to fight their way out. Denzel's gaze met hers, his eyes locked on hers with a serious intensity. "You know how to handle a gun?" he asked, his voice low and urgent. Rihanna nodded, her heart racing with adrenaline. Denzel handed her a gun, his fingers brushing against hers as he did so. "Let's move," he growled, his eyes fixed on the approaching yacht. The stakes had just escalated, and Rihanna knew they were in for a fight.

Rihanna's eyes widened as Denzel handed her the gun, her fingers closing around the grip hesitantly. She had lied about knowing how to use a gun, and now she was faced with the very real possibility of having to fire one. Denzel's eyes locked onto hers, his gaze intense. "Safety's off," he said, his voice low and even. "Just point and shoot." Rihanna's heart was racing, her mind reeling with fear. What if she couldn't do it? What if she hurt someone? Or worse? The yacht was closing in, its occupants mere yards away. Denzel's voice was calm, but his eyes betrayed a sense of urgency. "You ready?" he asked, his gaze never leaving hers. Rihanna nodded, trying to hide her fear. She wasn't ready. Not even close.