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Yet another time I wake up at Nate’s house with a pounding headache. I remember everything instantly, and I wish I’d stayed asleep forever.
I’m not in his basement this time, but I can already feel the restraints on me. I squint down at my body.
A chair.
Handcuffs.
And my red dress. He put me back in that fucking red dress.
“Nate,” I rasp, dehydration forcing my voice into a whisper. My wrists are bound to the arms of the chair, and the sturdy handcuffs dig into my skin.
I’m in our—his bedroom—and everything feels familiar. Too familiar. I shouldn’t feel at home when I’m bound to a chair in my captor’s house.
“Nate…”
I let my head fall forward until I hear keys in the door.
The bastard locked me in!
“Hello, little sunflower.”
His voice sends a chill down my spine. I don’t know this man anymore. Cold, calculated Nate disappeared last week. I’m not ready to face him again.
Leaning against the doorframe, he slowly pushes his glasses up his nose before putting his hands in the pockets of his suit.
He’s such a calm man for the chaos he causes. My body trembles, anticipating whatever he’s got in mind. Subconsciously, I’m already submitting to him, no matter how much I want to fight it.
But that’s not something he only does with me. Everyone knows Nathan White gets what he wants, one way or another. After all, when a force of nature walks into a room, everything bends to its will.
“Nate, please. Undo these.” I pull at the cuffs, making sure he knows what I mean.
He shakes his head, his face impassive. I should be used to it by now, but it never gets any less terrifying. What goes on in his mind?
I’m sure he feels angry, deceived, but how am I meant to know for sure?
“What do I have to do, Kayla?”
I lick my lips as I try to make sense of what he’s asking. “What you have to do?”
He nods slowly, but refuses to give me any other clue.
My body is hot, cold sweat gathering at the base of my back. “I don’t—I don’t understand.”
Tilting his head to the side, he takes one step toward me, his body relaxed. “No?”
My god, he scares me. How can someone look so shockingly beautiful and chilling at the same time?
His hair is messy, like he ran his hands through it over and over again. Strands are falling over his glasses, but he doesn’t bother to push them away. And that’s when I notice the other details. His jacket is gone, his sleeves are down, cuffed around his wrists, but they’re wrinkled. He’s been pulling them up, like he does when he gets agitated, when he doesn’t find a solution to an issue. And the first few buttons of his shirt are undone, like someone who’s been suffocating in it.
“Tell me.” His voice is thick, his steps heavy as he approaches. “What do I have to do?”
The question is clearer now that I’ve observed him closely, so clear I don’t understand how I did not get it before.
“To keep me, you mean?”
“So you did understand the question.”
My head shake is painful from the throbbing in my neck. “Not the first time. But I know how to read you now.”
