Page 134 of Captivated

Shit just added up and it was like a light bulb going off in her head.

“Now you get it,” Rich said, grinning again. “You made a call while in Chicago—to Gordo about your dancing. You needed a few weeks, you said. Apologized because you knew how important the upcoming shows would be. He had the stand-in waiting, though. They always have someone to replace you, don’t they?”

“That’s the nature of the business,” she replied, keeping her tone level and emotionless.

“Shame,” Rich muttered, “he should know better, Lilibet. No one can be as captivating as you on that stage. You know that’s what drew me to you, don’t you? The way you danced, and moved. So graceful, and beautiful. Free, really. All I thought about was how I could cage you.”

Don’t respond.

Don’t react.

Don’t give him anything.

Liliana stayed silent.

“Anyway,” Rich said, waving a hand, “I got the call, too, since I had the phones tapped, and the number you called from which was how I knew it was Chicago. Given I already knew about your fancy with the Chicago man, it didn’t take too long to put it all together. It was just shit luck that I showed up in Chicago about an hour late to grab you before he did. Couldn’t get a flight in time, you see?”

“Didn’t think of using a private jet?” she asked.

Rich’s gaze flashed with something Liliana didn’t understand. “If you must know, I thought I had time to spare. My mistake—don’t think I’ll make another.”

Duly noted.

“But I was not so far behind that I couldn’t follow you both, or try,” Rich said, finishing up his tale, “and so here we are. You with me, and him without. I like it better this way. Don’t you?”

Not at all.

And where was Joe?

Had he woken up, yet?

Figured out she was taken?

Or … thought she just left him?

Fingers snapped in front of her face before Rich’s aggravated features clouded her vision. “Are you paying any attention to me at all?”

“Not really, no.”

Honesty was the best policy.

Except in Rich’s case.

His hand came up faster than Liliana expected it to. The slap connected hard with the side of her face, and sent her head spinning to the side, and crashing into the passenger door. Blood bloomed in her mouth, and the coppery taste made her want to puke.

Before, she might have cried.

Asked him to stop.

Begged, even.

Apologized, likely.

Not this time.

No, this time she laughed, and straightened a bit in the seat. She laughed, knowing he was sadistic and easily provoked. She laughed even fully aware that it would only goad him into hitting her again and again until she stopped.

It didn’t matter.