Total pages in book: 66
Estimated words: 64835 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 324(@200wpm)___ 259(@250wpm)___ 216(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 64835 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 324(@200wpm)___ 259(@250wpm)___ 216(@300wpm)
“Twenty-two.”
He ponders that, his eyes growing hooded and almost relaxed. “Anyone waiting back home for you?”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, when you get out of here, will you go running back to your Prince Charming and have him attempt to hunt me down?”
I snort. “If there was, I wouldn’t send him your way. Even I’m not that stupid.”
He grins, eyes flashing in a way that makes my tummy do a backflip. “You’re learning, but you didn’t answer my question.”
“No, Johnny, there isn’t anyone. Men are overrated.”
He doesn’t flinch. Doesn’t even show a smidge of emotion.
“Are you finished with the small talk now?” I ask, stirring the chicken. “I’m not in the habit of chatting to my kidnapper.”
He smirks, and I look away. This man has split personalities, I’m damn sure of it. I boil some spaghetti on the stove and then serve up the meal. My stomach grumbles, because I haven’t eaten something that looks this good since I’ve been here. I slide a plate toward Jagger, and his eyes move over it before looking up at me. “Not bad.”
“Don’t get used to it.”
He ignores my scolding tone and takes a mouthful of food, his eyes flashing as he swallows it. He looks up at me, and I can see he’s enjoying it. The intense expression on his face makes my already twisted mind go to a place I refuse to let it. A sexual place where he’s giving me that look as he fucks me slowly.
God damn.
I need to go back to my room, right now.
“Are we done?” I ask, voice tight.
“Sit with me.”
It’s not a question, but a demand.
I stare at him, lips purses. “Why, dare I ask, would I ever want to do something like that?”
“It’s simple, Willow. Sit with me and eat, or go back to your room and starve. The choice is yours.”
Fucking. Men.
I take a plate and sit down beside him, taking a mouthful. It’s so good, and it takes everything inside me not to moan with delight. I don’t, but my god, I enjoy every second of it.
“What happened with your ex-boyfriend?”
Has this guy lost his god damned mind? Why is he asking me this? “What is it to you?”
“Just answer the damned question,” he growls.
“He was an aggressive dick,” I mutter.
He drops his fork, and I dare to peek up at him through my lashes.
“Fuckin’ trash men,” he mutters.
“Seriously? You’re going to judge another man for laying his hands on a woman?”
He glares at me. “I’d never hit a woman I loved.”
“No, but you’d take a woman from her home and her life to fulfill your own needs. It’s no better, Jagger.”
He’s silent a moment, and his eyes are focused intently on mine. “As I said, I’d never hit a woman I loved. I’d never hit a woman if I didn’t have a reason to.”
“Oh, wow, what a hero,” I snap, shoving my fork down.
I’m suddenly full.
I stand and pick up the plates, taking them to the sink. As I drop them into the soapy water, I stare down at the knife on the side of the sink, wondering if I could ever gain his trust enough to get hold of that and stab him with it? The thought of actually having to hurt someone makes a sickness deep inside me stir to life, and I shove it back down. I never want to be in the situation where I have to do something like that, but if it means I get out of here, I’ll do whatever I have to.
Jagger might be standing here, saying he wouldn’t hurt a woman, but I have no doubt in my mind if it comes down to it, he’ll do whatever he has to, including hurting me.
“Go back to your room. I have business to take care of.”
I turn and walk off without acknowledging him. I walk into my room and shove the door closed behind me. My bottom lip trembles, and I’m fighting with everything I can to keep it together, but I don’t know how much more I can take.
I’m breaking.
Soon, I’ll snap.
TWO MORE LONG, DREADFUL weeks pass, and the routine is the same. I get up, spend all day in the room, go out at night and cook for Jagger, clean up, and then go back to my room. The hilarious thing is, I could have stabbed him so many times when preparing the meals, but I’m not ready for that yet. No, when I make my chance at escape, I need to ensure it’s done properly. I need to catch him off guard and, to do that, I need to let him believe he’s got me right where he needs me.
I think a lot about my dad during my days sitting in this god forsaken room. I wonder if he’s truly alive, and if he is, has he given any indication of coming to save me? Will he risk his life to help me or will he leave me here to rot? Because, as far as I can tell, he’s in no hurry to help his daughter. I’ve been here for close to a month now, maybe even more, and I haven’t heard a single word about him since the first week.