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)
My cons seemed fairly weak. The Kidnapped me! stood out, but I was having a hard time holding on to my anger. I chewed the end of the pen, wondering if I was suffering from Stockholm syndrome. Or, more accurately, Dante Delusion. Either way, it was bothersome.
Giving up control to Dante was a major point. I’d had only myself to rely on my entire life. I decided where, when, what I was doing. Now, he would be in charge. Deciding when I could leave the estate, who I interacted with, when I slept or ate. Yet somehow, I knew it would all be done with my best interests in mind. And he would want me to be happy.
Baking a cake a day seemed a petty point since I was used to working much harder than that. Even adding in decorating time, it was a pretty light schedule.
I left it there anyway. It made the list look balanced.
I couldn’t put missing Roomba. The cock-a-doodle-doo had catnapped her too. I mean, what kind of cray cray thought of that? The Dante kind, I decided. Anyway, she seemed all in favor of remaining.
I looked at the other lists I had written. What I needed. My own lists of demands.
I put the pad of paper on the nightstand and slid under the light covers. I wondered what he would counter with.
I could only imagine.
I guessed I would discover that soon enough.
I curled up, falling asleep quickly.
I needed to add this comfy bed to the list of pros.
I’d do that in the morning.
Chapter Ten
DANTE
I leaned in the doorway, watching Brianna sleep. In the early morning light, she looked like an angel, though I knew she was anything but. Sassy, proud, strong, and independent, she tried my patience like no other woman before her. Perhaps that was what attracted me to her so strongly. Why I was acting this way. Like some degenerate. Staring at her as she slept. Worrying about her eating.
Kidnapping her and bringing her here.
Despite her beliefs that I did this all the time, I had never behaved in this fashion. I was high-handed. Focused and determined. But usually with women, they came to me. I was always honest with them, and we used each other until we were no longer interested—often me breaking it off first. I had never taken someone without their consent, with the intent of my own pleasure.
But with Brianna, all the rules were out the window. The thought of leaving her behind had been unacceptable. The certainty she would tell me to go stuff myself or some other polite expression was high. I couldn’t take that chance.
I spied her notebook on the nightstand, and the urge to peek into her notes was strong. Gia had told me Brianna had sought her out, asking in slow, carefully mimed actions for a pen and paper. She had given Brianna what she requested, and I had assured Gia it wasn’t an issue, although my curiosity burned hot, wondering what my little bee was writing.
“Speak English to her if you can,” I instructed. “She will be here a while.”
“So pretty,” Gia said.
“Yes. She’ll be baking a lot. She’ll need some instruction on how to use the ovens.”
“Okay,” she agreed with a surprised look on her face. But she knew better than to ask questions.
I tore my gaze from the paper and the mysteries it held and pushed away from the door. I had to leave before the lure of Brianna’s wild hair and the outline of her supple body drew me closer. Simply the glimpse of her bare leg and shapely calf peeking out of the blankets drew my attention. I wanted to crawl into that bed with her and wake her up in a fashion she’d never experienced. Since learning she was a virgin, I’d found my mind filled with all the things I wanted to be her first with. I was like some overgrown frat boy with one thing on his mind.
Getting the girl.
Thoughts of the other day drifted through my head. After giving in and eating the picnic I had brought out, she had fallen asleep on the blanket, still exhausted. I watched her for a while, wondering why she fascinated me so. Nothing about her screamed spectacular, yet I found her endlessly engaging. I enjoyed her reactions. The way her dark eyes emoted her inner feelings. How her cheeks flushed when she was angry. Her use of odd expressions to relay her feelings, never swearing, but her anger raging.
I had packed up the food, then stooped and carried her to the golf cart I used to get around the estate quickly. She made a small sound in her throat, burrowing into me. I hated to set her in the passenger seat but did so, and I drove carefully down the winding drive to the house. I carried her up the stairs, marveling at the fact that she didn’t wake or stir, instead nestling close again, her hand fisting my shirt. She showed so much trust to me in her sleep. Trust, I hoped, that would extend to her waking hours soon enough.