Page 27 of My Favorite Kidnapper

I frowned. “For sixty days.”

“Yes.”

“Why can’t I just make you all sixty and freeze them for you?”

“I want them fresh.”

“So, where is your kitchen? Is it close enough I can take the bus?”

“No. You’ll come with me.”

“To where?”

“Italy.”

He said it so matter-of-fact. As if it was no big deal.

I blinked. “Let me get this straight. You expect me to leave my life, travel with a stranger to Italy for sixty days, and bake you a cake every day?”

“Your life is not so great at the moment. You’ll be perfectly safe with me, and yes.”

The man was deranged. There was no doubt about it.

“Why?”

“I liked your cakes. Very much. I like you. I want to spend some time with you.”

“And you’ve decided sixty days is the right amount of time?”

“Yes.”

“I’m not for sale.”

“I know that. But your cakes are. And I’m buying them. Your presence is the added bonus.”

“No. I’ll work off my debt somehow. Tell me your terms, and I’ll figure something out.”

He drew back his shoulders, his gaze becoming serious. It reminded me of the first time I saw him. Intense and focused. “I just did. Those are the only terms I’ll accept.”

“No.”

“I’m not sure you have a choice.”

“Then contact the bank and withdraw your payment.”

“That isn’t possible.”

“Ask your brother to take it on. I’ll work out terms with him.”

“Not happening.”

Suddenly, he was looming over me, his hands resting on the arms of my chair, trapping me.

“I want you. In my villa, baking me a cake every day. I want to watch you create your art. I want to smell the aroma of it. Taste it. I want to hear you sing as you bake. Then I want you in my bed, so I can taste you. Devour you. Get my fill. I need you to satisfy all my cravings.”

My breathing picked up, and I had to swallow down my whimper. I shook my head.

“I won’t sleep with you for money.”