Total pages in book: 61
Estimated words: 56576 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 283(@200wpm)___ 226(@250wpm)___ 189(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 56576 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 283(@200wpm)___ 226(@250wpm)___ 189(@300wpm)
“Until it’s safe, and I’m ready to leave.” I stop us directly in front of the door. Her cheeks are a soft pink, and her bee-stung lips are begging to be kissed. My attraction to her is spiraling out of control. I’m going to need to get a grasp on it.
Reaching for the door handle, I twist the knob and push the door open. I revel in the audible gasp she releases at the sight. I wasn’t lying when I said I built this place with her in mind. Her love for reading was front and center when I designed the bunker. In fact, she’s the only constant in my mind. The only person that matters.
Walking inside, I watch her face, the way her gaze widens, and her lips part. She’s both shocked and in awe. I knew she would love this room.
Turning to me, she asks, “You built this for me?”
My heart lurches in my chest because, for the first time, she’s looking at me like I’m more than her captor. Some deeper feeling swirls in her eyes, and right then, I wish she could remember me. Remember that night. Remember where it all started.
13
The rest of the day is tense. I try to keep myself busy reading and watching movies, but nothing holds my interest because my mind is too exhausted trying to make sense of my situation. I still catch myself thinking that this can’t be real, that I must be asleep in my bed. That any minute now, I’m going to wake up and laugh about the crazy dream I had.
Curled up in the large recliner in the library, with Max cuddled up next to me, purring away, I do my best to focus on the book I’m reading. Looking at the pages, I read the same paragraph for the third time. This is pointless. Zane has left me alone for the last few hours, giving me space, he said. As if that was the issue here.
When I hear approaching footsteps, my head snaps up, and I drop the book I’ve been trying to read for thirty minutes into my lap.
“Would you like to work out with me?” Zane asks while leaning against the door casually.
“What… how?”
He chuckles. “In the gym. Do you want to work out? There is a stationary bike, a treadmill, and a rowing machine.”
“Oh…” I’m about to decline, but then I remember that there are probably heavy weights in the gym, weights I can use as weapons. “Sure, I’ll come.”
Looking pleased about me taking his invitation, he nods and starts to walk away. “Come, let me show you the rest of your closet. I got you some workout clothes as well.”
I’ve been wearing these thick pajamas all day, which are comfortable as hell, and it’s not like anyone will see me here, so there really isn’t a reason to change, though I guess I won’t be able to wear these while working out. Getting up from the recliner, I follow him through the apartment and into the bedroom.
Pulling out the drawers, he shows me what’s in each one, then he walks to the large mirror that spreads from floor to ceiling. He pushes a button—I hadn’t noticed—on the side of it, and the mirror slowly swings open.
“Oh, wow,” I exclaim as the enormous walk-in closet comes into view. He walks inside, and I follow behind him, too curious not to.
“This side holds all of my clothes, and these two sides hold yours. Workout attire is over there.” He points to the far right of the wall.
“Wow,” I repeat because, really, it’s the only thing I can think to say. This whole thing is so unreal. He bought all of these things for me? People don’t just spend money on other people, not unless they care about them, so why did he spend all this money on me? Why did he build this fortress and bring me here? Is it because he’s obsessed with me?
I snap out of it when he grabs something from his side of the closet and starts to walk out. “I’ll give you a minute so you can get dressed and meet you in the gym.”
All I manage is a nod, still baffled by the number of clothes and shoes he got for me. I wish I could say that I don’t care about any of this, that material things don’t matter to me, but that would be a lie. The sad truth is that these things do mean something to me. They mean a lot. Growing up poor, I never had pretty clothes or even new clothes. I was simply glad when I got clothes that would somewhat fit me and didn’t have huge holes or stains on them.
Having him buy all this stuff for me, providing me with the things I need, has my stomach in knots. I’ve never been so conflicted in my life.