The dog runs to me. I scream and jump on a marble kitchen island.
“That’s not sanitary, Bella,” he warns. He has his back to me while he looks through a set of French doors on a stainless-steel refrigerator.
“Stop calling me that.” I look around the kitchen, and it looks like something you would find in a showroom or in a magazine. All the cabinets are white, and the marble is white with grey flecks. It’s so big that you can fit the house I grew up in inside this kitchen and still have room.
“Should I call you Pandora instead?” He closes the doors and faces me. “Or Pandy?” He walks toward the island, and Iback away, ready to jump off and run, but then I hear the dog growling behind me. He stands before me and strokes my cheek. His hand is much softer than I thought it would be. His touch would feel nice against my skin if he weren’t a maniacal lunatic who just kidnapped a helpless woman. “You’ve certainly opened the box, haven’t you?”
My breathing is rapid but uneven as I wait for what he will say or do next. Only, no more words come out. He shakes his head and gives me his back. Moments later, he places a cutting board on the island.
I watch as he puts a skillet on the dual-range stove and starts cutting spinach.
I decide to try a different tactic. “Can you let me go, please? My mom is expecting me. She’s in a wheelchair and needs help.” I clear my throat. “My help.”
“Your womanly help?” He sounds amused by the question, but I decide to go with it.
“Yes. That’s it exactly. I knew you’d get it.” I try not to choke on the lie.
“We both know what’s not true.” He slams the knife through the spinach leaves hard enough to make me jump. “The part about the wheelchair is, but she doesn’t need your help today.” Having had enough of this, I decide it’s time to escape. The door is only a few feet away, so without thinking it through, I jump off the island and make a run for it. He doesn’t run after me. I manage to get my hand on the doorknob, twist and pull, but it’s locked.
I hear a whistle, followed by footsteps. The mongrel reaches me, gets on its hind legs, and puts its front paws on me. I scream, and the dog jumps and licks me. I scream again. The monster bites the bottom of my shirt and pulls.
“Get off me, you dingo bastard bitch.” But she doesn’t. She slams her body into me, knocking me down. Then she gets ontop and licks my face while I scream and try to cover it with my hands.
“Off, Finch,” his commanding voice booms inside the large room. The dog whines and walks away, but not before it licks me one final time. I remain on the floor, and he looks down at me and shakes his head as if he’s ashamed. He leaves, returns moments later, and helps me to my feet. A warm and soapy washcloth hits my face, and he wipes the drool and doggy smell from me. He rinses the cloth and wipes my face again. “You can’t get out, Bella. I suggest you save your strength.”
“Save it for what?” I ask, horrified. He doesn’t answer, but he pulls a chair out from the kitchen island and gestures for me to sit. To my shock, he pours me a glass of white wine. I eye the bottle, and it looks like the expensive stuff, not the five-dollar crap I buy, but I make no moves to drink it. I don’t know what this psycho put in it, and I’m not about to find out.
He pours himself a glass and sips it.
“Delicious,” he says. “From a winery in Napa Valley. Maybe I’ll take you there someday.”
“Can you let me out of here, you fucking psycho?”
“Let’s not name-call.” He starts to dice a clove of garlic. “And if you want to talk about psycho, I’d take a look in the mirror, sweetheart.Youtargetedme.” He points the knife at me. “Don’t play victim now.”
He whistles while he chops as if he hasn’t just kidnapped me and trapped me in this house. He finishes his wine and pours himself another.
“Cheers.” He raises his glass to me. I pick mine up, pretend I’m going to drink it, then toss the contents in his face. He puts the knife down and turns his back to me while he gets a paper towel. That’s exactly what I was hoping for.
I take the knife, ready to plunge it into his neck, but he turns, grabs my wrist, and twists until the knife falls out of my hand.He didn’t hurt me, but I rubbed where he touched me as if he marked me.
Undeterred, I slap his bicep, and it feels like hitting a wall. He doesn’t flinch, so I hit him again. He puts the knife down and stands there with a stoic look on his face. I lift my leg, ready to knee him in the balls as hard as possible, but he wraps his huge hand underneath my kneecap. I punch his chest instead.
“Shit,” I hiss. I shake my hand as if that will make the throbbing disappear. I kick him in the shin, but I remember I’m barefoot when my foot starts to throb. Instead of hobbling away as I should, because this man is tall and strong, I shove him. He laughs at my attempts. I swat his chest and start to rain slaps on him. I grab his collar and pull, but he’s immobile. He’s fast, too, because he snakes one strong arm around my waist and pulls my body into his.
The breath leaves my lungs in one loud whoosh. He looks down at me with a predatory smile.
“No,” is all I’m able to utter, but I can’t look away from his dark eyes and his perfect face.
“No, what, Bella?” he practically coos. “No, what?”
I can’t think of a single thing to say. His eyes are hypnotic. Dark brown with lighter flecks that I can stare into for days. He could get me to do almost anything with those eyes. I wonder if this is how he convinces people to join his criminal empire.
“Let me go.” My voice is but a whisper. As much as I try to break our gaze, I can’t.
“Now, it’s my turn to say no.” There’s a hint of a predatory smile on his face. He finally breaks our stare, leans down, and his soft lips land on mine. My eyes widen in shock at the sudden movement. His mouth smothers my protesting moans. His other arm goes around me, and his body softens and molds into mine. I clamp my mouth shut, but his lips move against mine. I open to breathe, and his tongue finds its way into my mouth.He kisses me as if it’s his right, and he’s not a man who abducted me from a public street. He kisses me as if he’s been doing it for years. He kisses me as if I belong to him and only him. He kisses me as if I’ve never been kissed in my entire life.
Unsure of what else to do, I kiss him back. I wrap my arms around his neck, press my breasts into his hard chest, and kiss this man as I’ve never kissed another man. He moans, and I do the same. He pushes me back into the island and rubs his entire body against me. Mine becomes alive at the feel of the hardness pressed into my stomach.
