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Dimly, I feel him kiss my cheek, and then my jawline. I want to pull back, but for some reason, I… I can’t.
Oh no.
“You lied,” I say thickly, or I try to, but my words get a little lost. “You lied to me.”
He said I could drink the wine, but I’ve been drunk on wine, drunker than two glasses, and I didn’t feel like this.
He drugged me.
The fucker drugged me.
I look back at the table as Chef Ryan comes over to clear our third dinner course away. Dessert was supposed to be next, but he’s taking the plates and the glasses. He looks like he’s cleaning up after a finished meal, and we didn’t have dessert.
I’m dessert.
I knew it, but I let myself believe him.
“Remember when you lied to me, sweetheart?” he asks almost gently, despite what I know he’s doing.
“No.” I do remember, but I’m not responding to that. The denial is for the vulnerable situation he’s put me in. I need to get out of here, now, before the last of my wits have abandoned me.
Summoning all my strength, I yank my body away from him. I stumble and he grabs my waist, his grip like iron.
“Be careful,” he commands like I’m a child who just picked up a priceless antiquity on display in his home.
OnlyI’mthe priceless treasure in this situation.
He’s afraid I’ll hurt me before he gets to.
I laugh at the absurdity, or I mean to, but my head is so thick and foggy, I can’t be sure any sound actually comes out.
“Let go of me.” I try to peel myself away from him, but it’s like trying to use a cooked spaghetti noodle to lift a car.
“You’re not going anywhere,” he tells me.
“You lied,” I say again.
“So did you,” he states plainly. “Remember when I told you I would hold you to your word? You said you would meet me for dinner, and you didn’t.”
“You’re a psycho.” I sway unsteadily, but he won’t let go. I don’t trust myself to walk, so I dig my nails into the back of his hand and scratch as hard as I can.
The bite surprises him for a split second, but it’s all I need to slip free.
I drop to my knees instantly without his support, but it doesn’t matter. I’ll crawl out of here if I have to, I just can’t let him…
My thoughts get lost in the fog. I can’t remember why, I can’t think straight anymore, I just know I have to get out of this apartment.
I want to, I need to, but my body feels so heavy and this apartment feels too big. Hopelessness threatens to swallow me, but I crawl forward as the edges of my vision start to darken and fade out.
I can’t let him catch me. I have to get away.
He steps in front of me. He feels like an immovable obstacle. His shiny, expensive loafer is pristine. The folds in the fabric of his pants won’t even dare wrinkle. I tilt my heavy head back and skim the muscular curve of his thigh, then my gaze hits the bulge of his cock. He’s already getting excited. He told me I was no good to him passed out.
He lied.
I don’t know why that’s so disappointing. Of course he lied. He’s a monster.
He continues to lie, with that tender look in his eyes and the gentle way he reaches down and caresses my cheek.
