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There was a softness about each corner of her mouth when she quirked them into a smile. She was pleased with herself, and the glitter in her eyes displayed confidence that made him straighten up to walk around the desk. For some reason he could imagine having her in a bed would be all sorts of fantastic. She was very clearly the kind of woman who knew what she wanted and knew how to ask for it. In his experience, they made for the best sort of bedfellows.
Putting that observation aside, he reached into a desk drawer and took out a pair of strong scissors.
For a second her eyes rounded, but then she looked down at the plastic tying her wrists together, back at the scissors, a hopeful expression on her face.
“I still don’t know what to do with you,” he said, heading over to take a knee next to the chair, reaching for her hands as she held them out to him, expectantly. “But I don’t think these will be necessary.”
“Thank you,” she said.
He could tell she meant it.
He snipped the bonds around her wrists and ankles without much trouble, leaving her to pull them off and discard them as he retreated behind his desk again. He had a seat, watching her reach down to massage her ankles, then straighten, hands grasping at the angry red marks at her wrists.
“Ow,” she muttered.
She didn’t look quite as much the mess as she had when she’d first been put on the chair. Her long hair was now sleeked back out of her face, her full lips weren’t tugged back in a makeshift grin by the bandana, but the pajamas remained. What was that on it?
“Are those cats?” he asked.
“Yes,” she said, straightening her back slightly, as if trying to preserve some dignity. “Kittens, actually,” she added.
He rested his gaze on hers for a breath before offering a half smile.
“Charming.”
He could tell she could tell he didn’t mean it. How could he compliment kitten pajamas and do it wholeheartedly? They looked like something a child would wear. He wondered what her apartment looked like. Was it all unicorns and rainbows? How could she be so laser-focused that she barely blinked under his gaze, and yet choose to go to bed looking like an advert for cough medicine? He couldn’t get a handle on her.
“Let me call my father.”
The simple statement made him focus away from her attire and back on her face. Her blue eyes were large, open, innocent. She was slender, attractive. In fact, she was beautiful, even in that outrageous kitten print, but he still didn’t trust her.
“No,” he said.
Her eyebrows rose and she looked away from him in quiet annoyance. At least he thought it was annoyance, it could just as easily have been frustration. As in, either she wanted out of there and was annoyed about being denied an exit, or she wanted to put the next stage of whatever plan she had into action and was frustrated over not having him completely fooled by her appearance. It would make more sense to him that the pajamas were chosen to deliberately throw him off than that they were something she liked wearing to bed.
But how could he ever be sure of her reasoning without outright poking and prodding it out of her through a direct line of questioning? Perhaps he should come clean about his stance, his mistrust. Her reaction to the truth of his hesitation might be as good an indicator as anything, and in any case, they were at an impasse.
Time for a new direction.
“I don’t know why you’re here,” he therefore said.
Her expression changed, understanding sinking in much more quickly than he would have expected. He made a mental note never to underestimate her.
“You think this is a setup?” she asked.
“I don’t know what to think,” he replied.
It wasn’t a lie.
Her irises lit up in the distinctive Kumarin dark red, like the last glowing embers of a fire. He knew better than to blow on them.
“I was drugged, bound and brought here,” she said, voice strained, as if she was controlling herself out of screaming the words at him. “And you think I planned it myself? Or what? My father did? Jesus Christ.”
“You wouldn’t have questioned it?”
“If you’d shown up gagged and blindfolded in the back of some woman’s car? Yeah, I probably would’ve raised an eyebrow.”
Her sarcasm was enough to tug at his mouth, but he kept the smile down this time. He wasn’t about to be charmed out of learning the truth. He still didn’t know how skilled an actress she was.
