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He scoffs. “I don’t like you. I’m in love with you.”
No.
“I don’t believe you.” I untie my smock. “I don’t believe that you can fall in love with someone when you barely know them. I don’t believe that you loved me after a semester—less than that. I donotbelieve that you held this flame for me—”
“I GAVE UP.”
I stop.
His chest heaves. “I gaveupon you, Melody. On ever seeing you again. I was so fucking close to putting you out of my head completely when I saw the painting. The bird. Do you know how crazy you make me? I thought you left—”
“You don’t know I didn’t!” I jump to my feet. “You don’tknowwhat happened, Jacob. You weren’t there. I was.”
“And you suddenly remember?” He steps closer. “I went to your house the next day. I washappy. You and I—” He shakes his head. “I thought you found the cameras. They were scattered everywhere in your kitchen. I hadn’t even checked them because I was happy.”
I throw my hands up. “Maybe I did!”
“Maybe you weren’t smart enough for that,” he counters. “You trusted me.”
“I wouldn’t trust you if it was my last option,” I snap.
Enough.
I brush past him, grabbing my purse from the side table near the door. I make it all the way to the elevator before he catches up to me.
“What are you doing?”
I tap my chin and pretend to consider. “I could go back to Thomas and Natalie, since they’resafe. Although they’re probably pissed that I ghosted them—”
“No.”
“No?”
He leans down and grips my waist, and the next thing I know, I’m draped over his shoulder. He pins my thighs to his chest, and his free hand smacks my ass.
I yelp. “What the hell are you doing?”
“You’re not leaving,” he growls.
He marches me back inside. My stomach is knotting, and it’s all I can do to keep my glasses on my face upside down. He kicks the condo door shut behind him and heads for the bedrooms.
But instead of his, he goes to mine.
“Jacob—”
“Quiet.”
He throws me on the bed and disappears.
I stare at the door and amjustabout to move when he comes back with something in his hands. He looks from the object to me, his expression turning slightly guilty. But before I can do anything, he latches a metal cuff around my wrist.
“Where did you get handcuffs?”
I yank at my arm, but his grip is solid. He threads the other part through the headboard and goes for my other arm. I roll away and curse him out, while adrenaline and fear kick up my heart rate.
This suddenly doesn’t feel like a game.
“Stop,” I try.
