Page 34 of My Favorite Kidnapper

Instead, I sat down. I was exhausted.

He sat next to me, handing me a cold water. I guzzled it down gratefully.

He tugged up my leggings, tutting over the bruises forming on my knees. He traced the small cut on one.

“Tore my flipping leggings, you jerk,” I muttered. “Are there more of those pastries?”

He bent and kissed one knee, then the other. “I’m sorry you hurt yourself, Little Bee. I told you that you couldn’t leave the grounds.” My breath stuttered in my chest as he pressed his lips to my skin. I felt a shiver race down my spine at the feel of his mouth on me. I refused to think about where else his mouth could go.

“I’m going to get to the police,” I insisted.

“I’ll drive you in the morning.”

I stopped halfway to reaching for one of the decadent pastries. “What?”

“I’ll take you to the police. You can make your report.”

“What’s the catch?”

“Nothing. You can tell them your side of the story. I will tell mine. Whatever they decide to do, I will abide by.”

I narrowed my eyes. Something was off about this offer.

“I don’t trust you.”

“You probably shouldn’t. But you have no choice. Now, how about lunch?”

He unpacked the basket, and I eyed the food hungrily. Fresh bread, wonderful cheeses, and rich, pungent meat appeared in front of me. Small containers held olives, sliced cucumber, and tiny tomatoes. Another had more pastries.

Dante handed me a plate. “Eat, Little Bee. Please.”

I was starving, and I filled my plate, then sat back and ate. The bread was crusty and delicious. The cheeses sharp and rich. The meat unlike anything I had tasted before.

“Why are these so sweet?” I asked, holding up a tomato.

“They are sweeter here. The soil, the climate,” he explained.

I ate until I was full, including two more pastries. Dante ate, watching me closely. He filled my glass, first with water, then a sparking liquid that was tasty and refreshing.

I patted my lips with a napkin and sighed. “That was incredible. I almost forgot I was eating with a kidnapper.”

“Your host, you mean.”

“Not after tomorrow.”

“We’ll see. Maybe I drugged you again. You never had me check the food you ate.”

I glared at him.

He began to laugh. “Teasing. God, your face is expressive. Maybe you won’t tell me to fuck off, but your glare does. It’s mesmerizing what you say with those dark eyes. You are so easy for me to read.”

“Most people think I’m closed off.”

“They aren’t looking close enough.”

I shook my head and shut my eyes, lifting my face to the sun. The warmth sank into my body. I was tired, the events of the last few days catching up with me. I startled at the feeling of Dante lifting my head and sliding a pillow under it. “Relax a little and let your food settle.”

“Stop telling me what to do.”