Rosalie was seated on the floor of the room, arm crossed against her chest. There was a haughty expression on her face, and it was obvious that she was not pleased with the present arrangements. But there was no fear on her face; there was only the rebllious look of someone who had no idea what was truly going on.<br/><br/>Her father had instilled the belief in her that the weak were ruled by the strong. And she had always thought herself to be one of the strong. She had passed through school with barely a blemish on her record and top marks in every subject she had studied. She had poured her existence into making sure that she would never be one of the weak whose existence were subject to the whims of another.<br/><br/>And yet here she was. She ran a hand through her dark brown hair and sighed. She was presently garbed in a pair of form fitting blue jeans with a scarlet blouse. It was what she had been wearing at the time of her capture.<br/><br/>The young woman could barely recall what had happened. She had been talking with someone in a bar and then the next thing she knew was she had woken up in this room. Rosalie could tell that the room was very nice, but she hadn't been able to get out. No matter how much she banged on the door nobody had come.<br/><br/>Rosalie had searched her pockets for her cell phone but it had apparently been taken. She knew something wasn't right, but she simply couldn't find it within herself to be afraid. She was only angry. She was angry at herself for going to the bar and getting drunk, and especially angry at herself for putting herself in a situation where she was vulnerable.<br/><br/>The time had ticked by and she had grown tired of banging on the door, so she had seated herself on the floor as if out of protest.<br/><br/>Perhaps due to being lost in her reverie Rosalie hadn't noticed the voices outside her room. But she did notice the door being opened. She got to her feet. Her eyes glared at the male as he made his way into the room.<br/><br/>"This isn't worth it," Rosalie growled. "My father doesn't cut deals with petty kidnappers. You're wasting your time." Obviously this was the only thing she could assume she had been captured for. Her father was a wealthy man who had worked in pharmaceuticals his whole life. Rosalie was aware of the underhanded things he did on the side, but that had nothing to do with her. "Of course, you can let me out now and we'll never have to talk about this again. Simple, right? I just want to go home."<br/><br/>If she was afraid-and she most certainly was deep down-of this man, none of it showed on her face. Any sign of weakness would put her at a disadvantage, and that would only make things worse.