Page 11 of Captivated


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“For kissing me!” I snap.

“Nope. Now come on.”

I stare at him in disbelief. “I beg your pardon?” I snap at him. I know this is an act, in a way. I know Ineedto sound incensed and outraged that he stole that kiss from me. But my heart isn’t in my performance. And I think Max can tell.

“I said no,” he chuckles. “I’m not going to apologize for that.”

“And why is that?!”

He shrugs. “Because I’m not a liar.”

“Just a kidnapping thief?”

“Exactly.” He sighs and glances at his watch. “Now come on, phone call time.”

“Not until you apologize for kissing me like that!”

Max growls. His eyes darken as they bore into me, and I tremble. “I’m not going to apologize, because I’m not sorry. And also, because I’d do it again in a fucking heartbeat.”

I bristle. But inside, my core is tightening and thrilling at the threat. A blush comes to my face, and I purse my lips.

“You would not,” I whisper.

Max grins. “Watch me, sweetheart. Now let’s go.”

He beckons, and I hate that I stand and walk towards him. It makes me feel like a puppy dog.

“Good girl,” he chuckles.

“Watch it,” I hiss with a warning tone. Max grins. God, why is his grin so sexy and melting? I scowl at him and march past him into the big loft area of his little hideout.

“Do you live here?” I wrinkle my nose. It’s actually not that bad. Or, it wouldn’t be if it wasn’t in what is clearly an abandoned factory or something.

“Sometimes,” he shrugs. “I’d have cleaned up if I knew I had a mob princess stopping by.”

“I’m sure,” I mutter dryly. I walk through a living room area that is actually somewhat tasteful. At the big factory windows, I peer through the grime at the city skyline I can half make out.

“Where are we, Brooklyn?” He hesitates. I turn to glare at him. “Do you really think it’s going to make a difference if I know what borough I’m in?”

Max frowns. “Queens.”

“Really? I don’t think I’ve ever been to this part of Queens.”

“That doesn’t shock me in the slightest,” he grunts. “Come on, sit.” He nods at an old leather sofa, and I sit. Max pulls a cell phone out of his pocket and then glares at me. “You’re going to be on speaker. But you’re not gonna speak until I say so. Got it?”

“Fine.”

“If you do, there’s going to be trouble.”

“I said I got it,” I mutter.

Max eyes me, and then he dials a number. The ringer is on speaker, and I wait. Suddenly, the phone picks up, and I hear my father’s voice.

“Hello?”

“It didn’t have to go down like this, Dino.”

The phone is silent for a second. Then my dad starts to chuckle. “Well, well. Max Ryan. I was wondering when I was going to hear from your punk ass.”

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