Page 26 of The Con Artist


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He rolled the serving cart onto the terrace and set the table for dinner. Walking over to the cocoa brown wicker patio chair, I took a seat and placed a napkin in my lap.

“This looks really good. Thank you.” I gave him a small smile.

“You’re welcome,” he replied as he poured some white wine into a glass and set it down next to my plate.

He took a seat across from me and picked up his fork.

“Who taught you how to cook?” I asked.

“My housekeeper, Grace. In fact, you’ll be meeting her tomorrow.”

“Can’t wait,” I spoke with sarcasm as I sipped my wine.

“Do you have any family?” he asked.

“Yes, and I’m sure they’re very worried about me.”

“Is there someone you’d like to call?” He pulled his phone from his pocket and held it in front of me. “I wouldn’t want them to worry.”

Shit. He knew I was lying.

“Go ahead. Call them.”

I took the napkin and wiped my mouth as I looked down at my plate, breaking our eye contact.

“I’m going to assume you lied, and you don’t have anyone at all. The lies are going to stop, Kate. Do you understand me?” he commanded. “Are you even capable of not lying to someone? Or have you been doing it so long that you don’t even know the difference between lies and the truth anymore?”

“That is not true!” I slammed my fist down on the table before getting up and walking over to the railing.

“Then tell me one piece of truth about yourself!” he shouted.

“My name is Kate Harper, that’s the truth. I’m twenty-four years old and I’ve seen more shit in my life than a person my age should have. My mother died a day after giving birth to me and my father raised me. We moved around from state to state and I never had any friends. I couldn’t get close enough to anybody because the minute I did, we’d move. Children grow up with best friends, Gabriel, but I’ve never had a best friend. I was too afraid to get close to anyone.”

“Why?” he asked.

“Because I knew if I did, somehow or some way, something would happen, and I’d have to leave them. That was my life. That is my life.”

“It doesn’t have to be, Kate.” He walked over to me and placed his hand on mine.

As much as the touch of his hand felt incredible, I couldn’t allow it. Not yet.

“You don’t understand, Gabriel.”

“Then make me understand.”

I took in a deep breath. “If you’re going to keep me locked away here, then I’m going to need some of my clothes from my apartment. Can you take me?”

The suspicious look in his eyes told me that the answer was no.

“I’m afraid I can’t let you out of this house. You’ll run and I can’t allow you to do that.”

“Jesus Christ.” I walked away, throwing my hands up in the air. “What are you, an FBI agent or something? Handcuff me, then. I don’t care. You know my real name. If I run, you’ll call the cops and they’ll track me down. I’m not stupid, Gabriel. All I want are some clothes, so I don’t have to keep wearing the same thing. Unless you want me to walk around naked?” I arched my brow.

“Fine,” he spoke. “Go get your shoes and I’ll meet you downstairs.”

“Thank you.” I gave him a small smile.

I headed to my room and put on my shoes, went downstairs, and waited for him. I could do this. I could escape. I had one passport hidden under my mattress with about three thousand dollars in emergency cash. I heard his footsteps coming down the stairs, and when I turned and looked at him, he walked over to me and slapped a handcuff on my wrist.

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