Page 35 of Not Another Dark Romance

The telltale squeak of the door opening steals my attention. Finally! “Murder Daddy!” I call out to him, desperate to see him and break up the monotony of my time alone here. I can’t imagine what I’d do without Piet to keep me company.

Zane’s footsteps get louder as he gets closer to the door, and the old floorboards creak under his feet. As soon as he’s in my line of view, I notice he’s soaked.

“Daddy, why are you all wet?”

“I decided to hose myself off before coming in the house,” he deadpans. “Obviously, it’s raining out. And I’m not your fucking Daddy.”

“It’s not obvious to me. I’m trapped in your basement with no window, remember?” I nod toward the plywood that’s hidden the only natural light from me. I also sigh at the Daddy dismissal once again. Clearly, I need to find a title he likes more…

“Yeah, yeah. Do you actually need something, or did you just call me down here for fun?”

“Okay, rude. Why are you being so grumpy?”

“I’m not,” he dismisses quickly, looking away, but once again, I know he’s lying.

“Whatever. I don’t want to talk to you anyway.” Now I’m a liar. But I was excited to see him, damn it, and his dismissive behavior hurts my feelings even if it probably shouldn’t.

“Sure you don’t.” Zane turns to retreat back up the stairs, the heavy thuds of his feet reminding me of his total freedom and annoying me even more.

Two can play at this game, though. If he wants to be grumpy when I’ve been the perfect kidnappee, I’ll give him a reason to be. I can’t keep sitting down here alone doing nothing all day and night, or I’ll actually go crazy. He might have told me I was psycho before, but he hasn’t seen anything yet.

I need to get him to admit he isn’t going to kill me so we can figure out what our next steps are. And to get him to do that, maybe I need to push him a little more.

Or maybe he will panic and kill me, but that’s a risk I’m willing to take.

I pout because there isn’t much I can do in my position, unfortunately. But I can definitely ignore him, and I can demand my art supplies until he gets them for me. Maybe I should see how long I can scream before he comes back down. It’s not like I can withhold sex when he pretends he wouldn’t be into it in the first place. Ugh, but screaming would bother Piet and probably me too, so that doesn’t seem worth it.

It feels like hours pass when the door finally creaks open again, but honestly it could have only been a few minutes. Who knows. Time doesn’t exist down here. Zane descends the stairs, carrying a bowl with what looks like pasta and bread.

“Eat,” he demands gruffly.

I cross my arms and turn away from him.

“Mason, what the fuck do you think you’re doing? Don’t start shit.”

“I’m not starting anything,” I snap, turning back to face him.

“Jesus fucking Christ. Look, it’s been a long day. I just… there’s a lot happening right now in my life, and I’m not exactly handling things well.”

I snort. “Join the fucking club. At least you get to leave the basement.” For a moment, I think he might actually apologize or explain, but instead he just sighs and squats down to set the food in front of me. I give him an unamused look. “Seriously? Nothing else you’d like to say?”

“What now, Mason?”

“My art supplies,” I demand, crossing my arms, but he looks puzzled as he stands. “If I’m going to be your permanent basement decoration, the least you could do is let me paint while I’m alone down here.” His expression is almost unreadable, but he doesn’t shut down the idea. I think he’s considering it, so I push. “That is unless you want to pay my bills for me?”

“Fuck!” he shouts. “Why is kidnapping someone so fucking complicated?”

“Need I remind you that you’re the only one making this complicated. You could’ve let me go. You also could’ve pinned me down and fucked my throat, but I officially rescind my offer now that you’re being a grumpy asshole. I don’t like it.”

“You know I can’t let you go.”

“Either you go to my house and get my supplies, or I’m going to make your life hell,” I say, my voice dropping to a serious tone. “I’ve been an absolute angel so far, but I can show you just how psychotic I can be. I will sing at the top of my lungs in the middle of the night, bang my chain against the metal beam. I’ll refuse to eat, I’ll⁠—”

“Fine!” he explodes. “I’ll get your damn art stuff.”

A triumphant smirk spreads across my face. “See? That wasn’t so hard, was it?”

“Don’t push your luck.”