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I heard his soft laughter coupled with the sharp sound of his footfalls disappear down the hall. Frustrated, I turned and began pacing the room, checking the perimeters of my cage.
The room was made of the same sleek, white stone and white wood paneling. The large windows were locked with a bolt, like they’d intended on using this room as a prison, but I could still see through the thick glass to the tropical garden below and the ocean beyond.
The cool stone floor was partially covered in a soft, white rug that matched the fluffy comforter on the bed. The bamboo table beside it had a lamp and an alarm clock and that was it. It was comfortable, the kind of luxurious I didn’t really understand because it was so sterile.
My chest tightened. Back at home, my room looked out over the front lawn. I had a big bed stuffed with blue and white pillows and walls lined with bookshelves and paintings. In the summertime, I kept my windows open and my box fans on full blast.
Automatically, I reached for my phone and remembered he had it.
Fuck him.
Furious, heart aching, and dizzy with homesickness, I stalked into the bathroom. It was much more to my taste with sleek marble countertop decorated with silver and gold, a large stone tub, and a huge circular mirror. On the sink was a vase of fresh flowers and a little zip pouch. Beside it sat a bag with folded clothes inside.
I filled the tub and peeled off his shirt. Stained and crusted with salt. Feeling rebellious, I dumped it in the trash. Too bad for him if he wanted it back.
It was a small victory, but it gave me a tiny sense of control back.
When the bubbles were at the top, I sank with a sigh into the hot water. I caught my own gaze in the mirror over the tub. I didn’t look like I’d just been kidnapped. I looked like I’d gotten a little suntanned on vacation and now I was relaxing in a spa tub. My brows scrunched together.
He really wasn’t a very good kidnapper. I made a mental note to tell him that again.
It was an hour later when I finally scrubbed myself raw and washed my hair. Swaddled on the bed, I sipped my water and nibbled on my defrosted sandwiches. Through the window, the sun sank lower over the ocean.
I gritted my teeth. I’d rather walk over hot coals than eat dinner with him, but I was pretty sure I didn’t have a choice.
I went to get ready, although I wasn’t sure why I wanted to look good. In the pouch was some generic makeup and skin care. I rubbed serum into my face to make it glow and dabbed on some lip balm. There was a mini bottle of mascara for my lashes and brows, but that was it.
The clothes were clearly for a shorter woman. I pulled on the linen shorts and tied the drawstring, turning and tugging them to cover my ass. The bra didn’t fit, but there was a bikini top that covered enough. I tied it on and pulled a white tank top over it. The sandals were too small so I opted to go barefoot.
I pivoted in the mirror, knowing I looked good. Especially considering I’d been drugged and kidnapped in the last twelve hours.
I began rummaging in the bag for some hair product and stopped short when a box fell out. Fingers shaking, I turned it over. Birth control.
What the fuck? Why had he given me birth control?
My throat went dry and I shoved it into the drawer, covering it with a towel. Heat crept over my cheeks. My parents had always told me it was immoral to use any contraception, so I’d never been on it before. Personally, I disagreed with their assessment and I’d intended on using condoms when I finally had sex. But years of conditioning had made me afraid of the pill.
I turned the pouch upside down and some of my anxiety eased. There were other things inside that made me believe the birth control had just been thrown in by someone who didn’t know what women needed. Four bottles of Midol, three tampons, and a snickers bar.
I pushed it all into the drawer, hoping my assessment was correct.
CHAPTER EIGHT
IRIS
He sent a housekeeper, a quiet, but pleasant, woman in her sixties who refused to elaborate beyond telling me he was waiting in the dining room. I followed her, the stone cold under my bare feet, down the stairs and to the back of the compound.
He sat on a covered porch outside at the end of a rectangular table. He had mirrored sunglasses on and he wore the same white shirt and dark pants. The shirt was open halfway, revealing a smattering of black hair between his pecs.
He might be an asshole, but he was sexy. Even I could admit that.
I stalled, but the housekeeper pushed me out onto the porch and slid the door shut. Leaving me to the wolves. He glanced up and his lips thinned. His lean hand rose and he beckoned me with two fingers.
“Come here,” he said.
I squinted as my eyes adjusted to the light. The sun was setting in a golden haze over the ocean, but it was still much brighter than my room upstairs.
“Why?” I asked.
