He snorts. “Too bad.”
He’s the one who asked, but I bite my lip to keep from pointing that out. The goal for today is to stay alive. And to escape, if at all possible. Judging from my last attempt, the handcuffs I’m currently sporting, and the way Andriani is keeping his gun on me, it may not be that possible.
“How long are you planning to keep me here?” I ask instead, trying to distract myself and him.
“As long as it takes.”
He moves to an expensive espresso machine featuring a color display. I have a feeling, unlike the decor, this didn’t come with the cabin.
“Latte?” he asks me.
My eyes narrow on him. “Lucky guess.”
He flashes me a sinister smile that shows off his dimples. “Or not.”
“So we can add stalking to your résumé as well, Andriani? A man of many talents.”
He starts grinding the beans. “You have no idea how many.”
I watch his hands moving in efficient motions and try not to think about what they’re capable of. How they’d feel on my skin, caressing me instead of the cold metal of his gun.
“That’s what they all say.”
He doesn’t answer that, instead swiping at the screen to make selections for the temperature and microfoam. Then he attaches the coffee, adds a cup, and hits another button. It’s plain that this isn’t his first rodeo. I addmakes his own coffeeto my mental list of pros for Andriani. He only has one other—hot. The rest is a book-length version of cons, starting with kidnapper and ending with arrogant jerk, with a whole lot of chapters in between.
The coffee finishes brewing, and he presses another button on the touch screen, making the foam. He gives it an expert pour and then brings it over to me.
“Don’t burn your tongue. I may have to cut it out and send it to yourstronzobrother. I’d rather it not look like I was torturing you.”
“Funny.” I take the cup in both hands, and it’s hot, but not so hot I can’t hold it.
“I wasn’t joking,” he tells me, unsmiling, and then goes back to the espresso machine and starts making himself a cup.
He tucked his pistol away, I notice for the first time. He doesn’t think I’ll try anything. And to be honest, I’m not inclined to at the moment. Not until I have a better plan for if I do get free. Hiding in the generator shed isn’t it.
As I sip my latte and watch him at work, I silently and reluctantly add two more pros.Makes an excellent latte. Has a sexy ass.
Not that either matters. There will never be enough pros to make Andriani anything other than a psycho Mafia kidnapper.
He finishes his espresso and turns back to me, taking a sip as he eyes me over the cup. “You like?”
“You care?”
He shrugs. “No, but I’m bored, so I figured I’d make small talk.”
“I didn’t know insane kidnappers bothered with that.”
“Who said I’m insane?”
“Me.” I take another sip of my latte.
I almost think I see a smile before he hides it in his cup. “You’re mouthy for a prisoner.”
“So you said before.”
“I can always get the duct tape and put it to use again.”
“You were the one talking to me. I was just being a good hostage.”
