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“Is that how you justify this?” Her lip quivered, but I felt it was out of anger rather than sadness. “Are you just going to tell that man downstairs that you kidnapped me, and he’s not going to care at all because we’re all just a little fucked up?”
“I don’t have to justify myself to Tennessee, you, or anyone else. I stopped answering to anyone a long time ago.”
“It shows,” she snapped. “If you weren’t surrounded by yes men your entire adult life, you actually would be able to see how absolutely insane this entire situation is. And that man downstairs allowing this is just as insane as you.”
I reached for the handle to her room and opened the door. “Well, there is one thing I better warn you about Tennessee. And you better take this warning fucking seriously if you know what is good for you.” I leaned in so I could whisper the words into her ear. “You better not be late for supper or he’ll tan your hide.” I then leaned back and gave her a wink and half smile.
Yes, I was a fucking bastard.
11
Aria
I needed a shower. Bad. I also couldn’t wait to put on clothes and then burn the robe I was wearing. I could smell Matthew on me. A spicy, rich aroma that was not only intoxicating but infuriating. I wasn’t about to be one of those martyr captives and refuse to shower, eat, or sleep. I was stuck here, and until I could figure out what to do next, I might as well make the best of the situation.
The room—my room—was warm and inviting. A queen-sized bed sat in the middle of the room covered in a quilt with deer and bears on it. There were pillows stacked in an orderly fashion that read Welcome to the Cabin, and Home Cabin Home. The rustic chic of the furniture and room accessories belonged in a ski lodge somewhere. I was pretty sure that Matthew didn’t decorate the place himself but rather hired some expensive interior designer, but regardless, it was done well. It was how I had always wished our home in Aspen was. The antler chandelier cast a warm light that wasn’t too bright, but strong enough that I could curl up in the fluffy flannel sheets and read a good book.
Comfortable.
Inviting.
Not the dungeon or miserable surroundings one would expect when being kidnapped and held for ransom.
Opening the closet door, I was surprised to see that not only had Matthew bought clothes and shoes for me as he said he had done, but the large walk-in closet was stacked full with sweaters, dresses, boots, flats, jeans, sweats, and whatever you could imagine one would need to live in the mountains.
Jesus Christ. How long was he planning on keeping me here?
If this were at my father’s house, I would be expected to wear a dress and heels to dinner, but something told me that I wouldn’t be expected to be as formal here. I tried to remember what Tennessee was wearing and could only remember that he was in some sort of smoking jacket and a cravat around his neck. Although he did give off a sense of comfort. Enough so that I was comfortable grabbing a sweater that screamed mountain cabin and a pair of gray slacks. I also chose a pair of black ballet slippers so I wouldn’t have to hunt down socks at the moment.
On my way to the bathroom, I decided to stop at the window and look out, no doubt the view would be just as beautiful as the house. I needed to get all my oohs and ahhs out of the way before seeing Matthew again. No way would I admit that any part of this place was nice. I wouldn’t ever give him the satisfaction of letting him know that this bedroom I had just been assigned was far better than the sterile and cold one I had back at home in Aspen.
Staring out the window, I was surprised to see a large landing pad and a helicopter parked on it. But was I really surprised? No. Of course he had a helicopter, and considering how awful the road was to get here, I couldn’t say I exactly blamed him. There were tall trees all around, except for a wide-open field with just enough room for the helicopter to land safely. Actually, there seemed enough room for one if not two others to land as well. Hell, he could have a helicopter party.
Rolling my eyes, I walked toward the bathroom. I wasn’t sure why I was annoyed by the man’s show of wealth. It wasn’t like I lived in poverty. Far from it. Maybe that was why. Wealth, opulence, and ridiculous displays of money had surrounded me my entire life. I never worked a day in my life—not that my father would have allowed it—and I had always been ashamed of that fact.
