Page 35 of My Favorite Kidnapper

He pressed his lips to my head. “Okay, Little Bee. Whatever you say.”

“I hope they put you in a cell with someone named Bubba and he likes the looks of you,” I mumbled, turning onto my side. “Enjoy your last day of freedom, you son of a biscuit.”

Gentle fingers stroked my head. Dante chuckled, the sound low and sexy. “Okay, Little Bee. Okay,” he said again.

* * *

I woke to the sunshine again. I sat up in bed, blinking and confused. Beside me, Roomba slept, stretched out and enjoying the softness of the bed.

How had I gotten back into bed? The last thing I remembered was the picnic lunch with Dante after trying to find a way out of his estate. The wonderful food. His good company. Lying back in the sun. I must have fallen asleep, and Dante somehow brought me back and put me to bed.

I was shocked. I was usually a light sleeper. I had to be, given where I lived. More than once, someone had attempted to break in. A small fire in the hall one time. I had learned to sleep with one eye open, so to speak, in case I had to defend myself or get out fast. I never felt safe in that apartment, but it was all I could afford.

Here, though, I felt exactly that. Safe. Which was odd, considering the fact that I was here because Dante kidnapped me.

Except, it didn’t really feel like a kidnapping. It felt as if I’d been given a reprieve of sorts. And I wasn’t sure how to feel about that.

It was early morning, about eight, I judged. I pushed back the covers, noticing a bandage on one knee where I had scraped it. I recalled Dante kissing the injury. How his lips felt on me.

I shook my head. I couldn’t think like that. I couldn’t fall victim to his manipulative ways. I would develop Stockholm syndrome and fall for my kidnapper. That wasn’t happening. He’d promised to take me to the police today, and I was making him stick to that promise. I’d be home in a couple of days. He could go to jail.

I used the shower in my bathroom, delighting in the multiple jets. The steam rose around me as I used the fragrant shampoo and conditioner and lathered myself with the sweet-smelling soap. I wondered if I could sneak the products into my suitcase. They were luxury brands—way nicer than I could ever afford. I was sure he wouldn’t miss them.

I changed into my pink overalls and a flowered T-shirt, ignoring the new ones hanging there. I added my pink sneakers and rolled up the cuffs on the pants. Taking a deep breath, I headed downstairs, following the scent of coffee to the dining room.

Dante sat at the table, holding a cup of coffee and the paper. Dressed casually in a Henley and jeans, he was devastatingly handsome. He had on simple black frames that highlighted his eyes. He peered at me over the top of his rims. “There you are, Little Bee. You’ve slept for hours. I trust you feel rested?”

I approached the table, shocked to see Roomba curled up on his lap. “What are you doing with my cat?”

He lifted his hands. “Nothing. She came to me. She likes me.”

“Maybe you can get one when you get out of jail.”

“Still want to take me to the police and report a crime?”

“Yes.”

“Mind if we have breakfast first? The food in jail is bland, I’m told.”

A woman walked in, holding two plates. My stomach grumbled at the scent of food. She smiled at me and spoke to Dante. He nodded in my direction, saying something.

“He kidnapped me,” I said. “Can you help?”

There was no response, except she chuckled and patted his shoulder, then took the coffeepot and refilled his cup and poured another cup at the place beside him. She left the room, and he indicated the chair. I sat down, unable to resist the aroma.

“No help there,” I mumbled.

“No English,” he said mildly. “Eat your breakfast.”

I picked up my fork, cutting off a mouthful of the fluffy omelet. “Delicious.”

He smiled. “Not your usual Italian breakfast. But it is a carryover from living in Canada. I like eggs in the morning. I tend not to eat again until dinner, unless it is a snack.”

“You ate a picnic lunch with me yesterday.”

“You would be surprised what I would do for you, Little Bee.”

“You carried me to my room.”