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Hard eyes locked on hers. “Come. Here. Don’t make me ask again.”
She took a couple of tentative steps into the small room. When she was close enough, he grabbed her wrist and pulled her over to the tub. “Tell me if the temperature is okay. Too hot? Too cool?”
The toughness leeched out of her as the realization of how much danger she was in finally registered. “I-it’s fine. But, I-I can’t take a bath here. The door doesn’t latch, you could come in, and...”
He stood, towering over her. He must’ve been six feet five and solid muscle. “When you’re finished, you’ll put on the bathrobe hanging on the back of the door.”
She looked down at the tile floor. “Please, I-I can’t.”
“Honey, we’re in the middle of bumfuck in case you haven’t noticed. I’m about ten times stronger than you. I could have you at any moment I chose, no matter what you started out wearing or what you were doing, so get in the goddamn tub. I know you’re tired and exhausted and stressed, just soak for awhile, and I’ll make us some food.”
He mercifully left her then.
She sat on the toilet lid while the water ran, and finally shut it off when she couldn’t stall any longer. She heard clanging about in the kitchen. She’d have to bathe eventually. If the door didn’t latch, it didn’t latch. Did she believe she was going to be able to go long here with all of her clothes on? She’d seen the way he’d looked at her in the diner that first day. He’d no doubt been planning to take her even then. Losing her job was just an excuse for him to take advantage of a bad situation.
Finally she pushed the door shut and peeled her clothes off. She took a washcloth from a basket on the floor and wet it to wash the dirt off her feet, then she sank into the hot water, careful to keep her wrapped arm out of the tub. Whatever plans he had for her, he hadn’t lashed out in anger when she’d run. Even after she’d kneed him in the groin, he’d only subdued her struggling. He’d tended to her wounds. How bad could he be? And he wasn’t repulsive, at least, which was much better than she would have gotten on the streets.
Something deep inside her rose up, growling over the fact that she’d rationalize and stop at anything short of killing him. He couldn’t do this to her. Whatever century he was living in, she wasn’t his chattel.
A soap dish with homemade peppermint soap had been attached to the edge of the tub. She lathered up and closed her eyes, breathing in the scent, trying to calm her heart rate and form a plan. She jumped when the door was pushed open and rushed to cover herself.
Luke stood in the doorway in jeans and bare feet, his cowboy hat, boots, and shirt long gone. “That’s a syndet bar so you can use it for your hair, too. It’s got goat’s milk and coconut oil in it. It makes your hair soft.”
If he’d been using the soap for that purpose himself, he was an excellent advertisement for it. She flushed and looked away. “Don’t look at me.”
“I’ll see you soon enough.”
The tears started again, but he ignored them.
“I’m making burgers, so be quick about it.” He shut the door softly behind him.
Her legs shook as she stood and pulled the drain on the tub. Whatever he planned to do to her, she wished he’d just do it. The anticipation was scaring her more than whatever he intended. She dried off with a towel from the basket and then put the bathrobe on. She wanted to put her normal clothes back on, but she was afraid he’d stop being nice. His kindness might be a mask, but the longer he wore it, the longer she lived.
Except for tying her up in the truck, he hadn’t been cruel to her. He’d let her use the bathroom, given her a snack, patched up her scratches...
She tied the belt as tightly as she could, even though she knew it wouldn’t stop him. The old hardwood floors creaked as she made her way into the kitchen. It was a throwback to the past, with appliances that looked like they were from the fifties and a green-and-white tile floor. The walls were a bright, sunflower yellow, and there were green gingham curtains on the windows. It was what she imagined a farmhouse kitchen would look like.
“Sit.”
He brought over the burgers and some chips and sodas.
“Eat.”
“Stop barking orders at me.”
He arched a brow. “I saved you from starving in a ditch, I’ll bark all the orders I want. Now eat.”
Veronica stared at the burger. Every tiny demand she gave into was one step closer to... something. She didn’t know what, exactly, but it felt that each time she did what she was told, they moved further along some plan known only to Luke. A plan to rebuild her? To unmake her? Part of her thought he might not kill her. What would be the point? If he were a serial killer, wouldn’t she already be locked in the basement?
“I’m losing patience, Veronica.” His voice had dropped a register, and it was the first time he’d spoken her given first name.
“What if I say no?”
“Then I’ll spank you.” There was no hint of teasing or amusement in his voice. The statement had been matter-of-fact as if it were an obvious conclusion that any thinking person would reach. What did you do with a woman who didn’t eat her burger on command? Of course you spanked her.
She gawked at him, her mouth dropped open. “Excuse me? You’ll WHAT?” Like hell he was going to spank her. She’d fight him until he killed her.
“You heard me. Eat your burger. There’s no need for things to be unpleasant.”
