Total pages in book: 87
Estimated words: 83881 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 419(@200wpm)___ 336(@250wpm)___ 280(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 83881 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 419(@200wpm)___ 336(@250wpm)___ 280(@300wpm)
“I’m going to get to the police,” I insisted.
“I’ll drive you in the morning.”
I stopped halfway to reaching for one of the decadent pastries. “What?”
“I’ll take you to the police. You can make your report.”
“What’s the catch?”
“Nothing. You can tell them your side of the story. I will tell mine. Whatever they decide to do, I will abide by.”
I narrowed my eyes. Something was off about this offer.
“I don’t trust you.”
“You probably shouldn’t. But you have no choice. Now, how about lunch?”
He unpacked the basket, and I eyed the food hungrily. Fresh bread, wonderful cheeses, and rich, pungent meat appeared in front of me. Small containers held olives, sliced cucumber, and tiny tomatoes. Another had more pastries.
Dante handed me a plate. “Eat, Little Bee. Please.”
I was starving, and I filled my plate, then sat back and ate. The bread was crusty and delicious. The cheeses sharp and rich. The meat unlike anything I had tasted before.
“Why are these so sweet?” I asked, holding up a tomato.
“They are sweeter here. The soil, the climate,” he explained.
I ate until I was full, including two more pastries. Dante ate, watching me closely. He filled my glass, first with water, then a sparking liquid that was tasty and refreshing.
I patted my lips with a napkin and sighed. “That was incredible. I almost forgot I was eating with a kidnapper.”
“Your host, you mean.”
“Not after tomorrow.”
“We’ll see. Maybe I drugged you again. You never had me check the food you ate.”
I glared at him.
He began to laugh. “Teasing. God, your face is expressive. Maybe you won’t tell me to fuck off, but your glare does. It’s mesmerizing what you say with those dark eyes. You are so easy for me to read.”
“Most people think I’m closed off.”
“They aren’t looking close enough.”
I shook my head and shut my eyes, lifting my face to the sun. The warmth sank into my body. I was tired, the events of the last few days catching up with me. I startled at the feeling of Dante lifting my head and sliding a pillow under it. “Relax a little and let your food settle.”
“Stop telling me what to do.”
He pressed his lips to my head. “Okay, Little Bee. Whatever you say.”
“I hope they put you in a cell with someone named Bubba and he likes the looks of you,” I mumbled, turning onto my side. “Enjoy your last day of freedom, you son of a biscuit.”
Gentle fingers stroked my head. Dante chuckled, the sound low and sexy. “Okay, Little Bee. Okay,” he said again.
I woke to the sunshine again. I sat up in bed, blinking and confused. Beside me, Roomba slept, stretched out and enjoying the softness of the bed.
How had I gotten back into bed? The last thing I remembered was the picnic lunch with Dante after trying to find a way out of his estate. The wonderful food. His good company. Lying back in the sun. I must have fallen asleep, and Dante somehow brought me back and put me to bed.
I was shocked. I was usually a light sleeper. I had to be, given where I lived. More than once, someone had attempted to break in. A small fire in the hall one time. I had learned to sleep with one eye open, so to speak, in case I had to defend myself or get out fast. I never felt safe in that apartment, but it was all I could afford.
Here, though, I felt exactly that. Safe. Which was odd, considering the fact that I was here because Dante kidnapped me.
Except, it didn’t really feel like a kidnapping. It felt as if I’d been given a reprieve of sorts. And I wasn’t sure how to feel about that.
It was early morning, about eight, I judged. I pushed back the covers, noticing a bandage on one knee where I had scraped it. I recalled Dante kissing the injury. How his lips felt on me.
I shook my head. I couldn’t think like that. I couldn’t fall victim to his manipulative ways. I would develop Stockholm syndrome and fall for my kidnapper. That wasn’t happening. He’d promised to take me to the police today, and I was making him stick to that promise. I’d be home in a couple of days. He could go to jail.
I used the shower in my bathroom, delighting in the multiple jets. The steam rose around me as I used the fragrant shampoo and conditioner and lathered myself with the sweet-smelling soap. I wondered if I could sneak the products into my suitcase. They were luxury brands—way nicer than I could ever afford. I was sure he wouldn’t miss them.
I changed into my pink overalls and a flowered T-shirt, ignoring the new ones hanging there. I added my pink sneakers and rolled up the cuffs on the pants. Taking a deep breath, I headed downstairs, following the scent of coffee to the dining room.