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He was already gone, his side of the bed empty. My brain whirled. Both sides argued back and forth while I padded down the hall.
Whore.
Shut up, I can make my own choices.
You really fucked up this time.
Shut. Up.
On the verge of tears, I burst into my bedroom. My hands moved of their own accord, wrathfully scrubbing my face and putting on makeup. I didn’t want him thinking I cared what I looked like for him, so I put on plain sweats and a t-shirt. Then I put some light makeup on and padded barefoot downstairs.
He was standing in the living room, talking on his phone in French. When he saw me, he jerked his head towards the kitchen. I frowned, a little hurt by his brusque attitude after what we’d done last night. Maybe he regretted it too?
Slamming the kitchen door, I crossed the room and yanked open the fridge. There was a bowl of cut fruit and bottled iced coffee. I pulled them out and laid them on the counter, climbing onto one of the tall stools.
He walked in and his brows rose. “What’s the scowl for? Did I not work that attitude out of you last night, princess?”
Heat shot up my spine and spilled over my face. I ducked my head, unsure how to respond, and popped the cap off my iced coffee.
“No quick comeback this morning?” he pushed.
I glared. “I haven’t had my coffee yet.”
He crossed the room, tugging his suit jacket off to reveal his usual clothes. His white shirt was open a little lower than usual. I glanced furtively at the dark hair, distracted. Before I realized what was happening, he’d taken me by the waist and put me on the kitchen counter.
I yelped, flustered.
“Sit there,” he said smirking. “I’ll make us some fresh espressos.”
Why was he being so nice? I narrowed my eyes with distrust, but he didn’t notice. He turned on the espresso machine in the corner by the fridge and took down two cups. I watched him work in silence, an odd sensation seeping through my chest.
Was this so bad? Yes, I wasn’t here of my own free will…but he was the most hospitable captor I could ask for.
“I had Dr. Howell tell your father you were here,” he said.
Startled, I blinked. “What? Really?”
He nodded, dark eyes averted. “But if your father tells anyone else, I’ll gut him. And he knows it.”
I was speechless. He passed me a cup of frothy espresso and leaned on the counter, dark eyes burning into me.
“Lucien doesn’t know,” he said. “But he does know you’re missing.”
“Why…why would he care?”
“Because technically you fall within his jurisdiction and now that you’re gone, you’re on his radar.”
“I’ve never even met him,” I said. “And…and how dare you threaten my father!”
“Your father is fine,” he said.
I stared at him, trying to figure out what the fuck was going on with him. He’d told my father where I was, so there was at least an ounce of compassion in him, but he was still refusing to tell me why he wouldn’t just bring me home. And why was he so adamant that Lucien not know?
It hit me all at once.
“Youlikeme,” I whispered.
He scowled and his eyes narrowed. “I like your cunt. I like your tits.”
