AllFreeNovel
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“I’m not giving in,” I gulp but the more time I spend with him the closer I’m pushed to the edge. What happens when I fall off? Will he be there to catch me? Or will I keep falling.
“You’re safe with me.”
My eyes flare. “You kidnapped me. I’m your hostage”
“Hostage is an ugly word. Think of it more as you being my guests. Besides, hostages aren’t usually allowed to go to restaurants.”
“And guests are usually allowed to leave whenever they like.”
“You can’t take care of yourself. You get in trouble when you’re on your own. With me you’re protected.”
“It’s not true,” I say, clenching my fists. “I can take care of myself.”
“Didn’t look that way to me when I found you passed out in the street outside of a skanky bar.”
My cheeks heat with degradation. “That was a one time thing.”
“Forgive me for not wanting to take any risks,” he replies and he’s so brash that I don’t know if I want to slap him or grab his hand and put it on the inside of my thigh. Looking around for the waiter, I tense when I see him coming, carrying two trays brimming with plates and glasses and I figure that this is my chance.
This is my moment to do something. He puts the tray down, smiling and telling us something about how sorry it is that it took such a long time but I can barely hear what he’s saying. My brain feels like it’s stuffed with cotton and Husband’s face is turning blurry. And yet somehow I manage to open my mouth and blurt,
“I’m...” I begin and my voice comes out more as a squeak and the waiter turns to me in surprise, “I’m a...he’s holding me...” I’m slurring because I can’t properly form my words and my eyes go to Husband’s hand. It’s lying next to his plate, fisted around his knife and again he shakes his head in warning.
Is he going to use the knife on the waiter? Cut it into his throat if I say something?
Now I fear for the waiter’s life. With my mouth still open, I jerk when Husband snaps,
“This is it. You can leave us. Thank you.”
The waiter nods and runs off but not before throwing me an inquisitive glance. Can he tell that something is going on? Does he care? Whenever he spoke to Husband his voice was filled with respect. Admiration. The kind of admiration that can make a person turn a blind eye.
“If I scream for help, what will you do?” I ask and Husband’s face hardens.
“Silence you.” There’s no hesitation in his voice. “Eat your food,” Husband says, nodding at my plate, “I want us to share a normal meal together.”
He’s holding the knife as a utensil now and not as a weapon and I slowly breathe out. Inhaling I grab my knife and my fork and stare down at the food. It smells good and I need to curb my hunger. I might as well eat.
Husband’s face exudes contentment when I move the food to my mouth and chew but I notice something strange. Despite his impressive presence and physique that makes him seem worldly, he doesn’t have the best table manners.
He cuts up his food and then eats with one hand instead of two. Almost as if nobody taught him how to do it properly. I feel something tugging inside of me and he looks up, mistaking my staring for reprimand.
“I’m not a villain, Daphne,” he says calmly and my eyes go to his, “I don’t want you to hold what I’ve done against me.”
“Then help me see that. You can make everything right again.”
He silences and he swallows, looking serious. “Do you know my name yet?”
“You know I don’t, Mr. Haw...Mr. Hawes...Mr. Hawkins.”
I viciously throw those last names out, just in case but apparently they’re all wrong because he doesn’t react.
“Then I can’t let you go.”
“You mean you don’t want to.”
“Same thing.”
I shake my head. “That is so...,” I trail off when my attention goes to the TV up in the corner. It’s showing the evening news and I perk my ears, tensing and I slightly lift off of my seat. They’re talking about the robber.
