Total pages in book: 85
Estimated words: 82247 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 411(@200wpm)___ 329(@250wpm)___ 274(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 82247 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 411(@200wpm)___ 329(@250wpm)___ 274(@300wpm)
Lifting his gaze to mine, he says, “Stay,” before leaving the room.
I hate how much I’m shaking. I hate how powerless he makes me.
The cabinet door slams in the bathroom, and a moment later he returns with my medicine kit. He didn’t have to ask where it was. The bastard went through my things. He invaded my privacy and searched my place, just like he did before.
Crouching in front of me again, he reaches for my bleeding foot. His fingers locking around my ankle makes me feel like a trapped animal.
In a knee-jerk reaction, I shove him away. “Don’t touch me.”
A smile curves his lips. Slowly, he pushes to his feet. His gaze is level on me, those steely eyes hardening enough to contract the skin on my arms. “My mistake. It seems kindness isn’t what you need.” He moves so close I have to crane my neck to look up at his face. “It seems a different approach will work better with you.”
I lean as far back as the couch allows. “Excuse me?”
“Take care of that cut before it gets infected.” His smile is unwavering, but it never reaches his eyes. Taking the kit, he shoves it into my hands. “Is that easier for you to understand?”
Yes. I’m well educated in his lessons. He offered to take care of me. Since I rejected the kindness, he’s retaliating by being cruel, but I’m done with his games. If it’s not real, I don’t want it. “If your caring comes with a price, you can keep it.”
“If by that you’re suggesting I don’t care, you’re wrong.”
“Caring isn’t selfish. Caring is giving without expecting something in return.”
“Is that so? Then tell me how that doesn’t make you selfish. If you love me like you claim you do, shouldn’t you give it without expecting my love in return?”
If you love me like you claim you do… “Fuck you!” How dare he demean my feelings by questioning them, feelings he is solely responsible for? It was damn hard for me to admit those feelings. He has no right to use that against me. “The problem with you, Maxime Belshaw, is that you don’t understand anything about love. To love means putting someone else’s needs before your own. To love someone else, you must first love yourself and loving yourself means not letting a toxic relationship destroy you. I think that is the problem with you. You don’t know how to love yourself.”
His eyes narrow to slits. “You think you’re the expert on me? You think I’m selfish?” His laugh is cold. “You have no idea what I’ve sacrificed for you.”
“I never asked you to.”
Gnashing his teeth, he knocks the box from my hands. It falls on the floor with a thump. “Do not be ungrateful for what I’ve done.”
The violence jars me, locking me in place.
Dragging both hands over his head, he tilts his face to the ceiling and walks away from me. “Fuck.” He stays at the far end of the room for a moment before turning back to me. His hair is even wilder than before when he finally drops his arms to his sides. A war rages in his eyes. For a minute, he’s not my kidnapper, but the man who cares about me. He’s just a man making himself vulnerable by opening up and dropping his defenses. “I don’t want to scare you, Zoe. After your father—”
“Don’t.”
Sighing, he comes back and picks up the medicine box. “I’m going to tell you a story. A young man goes to a market and sees a beautiful woman admiring a precious object. He can see she wants it, but when she opens her purse, she doesn’t have enough money. This man, he was paid to abduct that woman. He has two choices. He can either grab her, tie her up, and drag her away, or he can go up to her and tell her how beautiful she is and buy her that precious object she wants so much. He can do that for her and be kind, inviting her to dinner. They can have a good time, have great sex. He can ask her to go away with him and knows she’ll say yes. Tell me, Zoe. Which man is kinder? Which man is the most selfless?”
“The honest one,” I whisper.
A shutter drops in front of his eyes. The man who was reaching out to me a second ago retracts back into his shell. I mourn the loss, the almost-intimacy, but I can’t lie to him. I can’t betray myself. I can’t strengthen his warped belief that lies can smooth over his crimes.
“You better take care of that,” he says flatly, pointing at my foot and handing me the medicine box.
I act on autopilot, taking out disinfectant and a Band Aid. My hand shakes when I pull out the piece of glass. The sting burns all the way to my heart. I glance up at him. He’s watching me quietly, his face an unreadable mask.