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“I don’t think good men steal women.”
“Maybe we have different ideas of what makes a good man. And I have it on good authority thatyouwere the one who made such a deal.”
I purse my lips. Everyone is crazy today, and I’m starting to think I’m going over the edge too.
“It will be okay. You’re different.” Her face goes soft. “Xavier doesn't bring anyone here unless they’re in his inner circle. Even then, most don’t make it past his office. Whereas you’ve been roaming the house for an hour, opening every door and drawer as you go.”
“Xavier? I thought his name was Vincent.”
“Xavier Vincent,” she corrects.
“Xavier Vincent.” He’s got a cool name for a stone-cold jerk. “He’s lucky I don’t burn this place down with everyone in it.”
This makes her laugh again. “You’re a terrible liar. I bet you can’t even kill a spider.”
“Why would I? When you can just take it outside.” I never understood people wanting to crush something so small.
“I’m starting to get it.” She cocks her head to the side, and this time it feels like she’s really looking me over. “Don’t fight it. The sooner you give in, the sooner you’ll both be happy.” With that, she heads out the door. “This is the master by the way,” she tosses over her shoulder as she exits, leaving me even more confused about this situation than I was before.
I slide off the bed thatdoessmell like Mr. Vincent. I think I knew it was his room when I ventured in here. This shouldn’t even be called a room. I think it’s eight times bigger than my place. Every room in this place is as breathtaking as the last. It makes me wonder who Mr. Vincent really is. Well, besides an extremely handsome kidnapper.
I take off toward the bathroom to peek inside.
“What the hell?” The bathroom is definitely big enough to fit three or four of me in it. Everything is so shiny and white. I itch to go inside. I’ve never seen a bathtub so big in my life. You could swim in it. I turn and stomp out of the room before I’m tempted to crawl into the tub. I won’t give Mr. Vincent the satisfaction of finding me naked in his bedroom.
I descend the stairs, now mad that I can’t take a bath. I follow the scent of fresh baked bread into the kitchen. Mr. Vincent is standing at the island. I watch as his big hands make quick work of whatever it is he’s chopping. He doesn’t look as if he’s a stranger to using the blade.
“Come have a seat with me, precious.”
I bite the inside of my lip and debate if I should do it. There really isn't anywhere else for me to go. I might be able to get some more information out of him if he thinks I’m cooperating. I walk over and climb up in the chair.
“This is for you.” He pushes a mug toward me.
“What’s that?”
“I think you know what it is.” He lifts an eyebrow.
“Oh my gosh. It's a hot chocolate with extra marshmallows.” I wrap my hands around it and pull it to me.
“You like Italian?”
“I’m starting to think you might already know the answer to that, too.” I eye the ingredients laid out in front of him.
“I can be a little obsessive about details. If there’s something I want to know about someone, I don’t stop until I know everything.” Obsessive. I can have the same problem if I let myself. I don’t. That’s why I keep everyone at arm's length.
“You want to know everything about me?” No one’s ever taken that much interest. Not in me. Star, now she has tons of admirers and stalkers. But not me.
“Yes.” A timer goes off. Vincent walks over to the oven and pulls out a loaf of bread. It smells heavenly. The man can cook, too.
“You don’t need to kidnap women. I don’t understand you. You could get anyone you want.” I fold my arms over my chest, not caring that I probably look like a child pouting.
“That’s not true. I remember someone who turned me down a dozen or so times. No matter what approach I took, it never seemed to be the right one. Leaving me with no other options, really.”
“You don’t want to date me. Trust me. I don’t date. I can’t. It’s not my thing. You may as well let me go.” I take a delicious gulp of the perfect hot chocolate.
“You can’t date?” He peers at me, his gaze so direct it’s like a touch.
I shake my head. “No dating.” Why are my cheeks heating? Am I flirting? I should be running, but everything smells good, and on top of it, Mr. Vincent looks amazing in his black button down and black pants. He’s tailored and gorgeous.And probably planning your murder,my brain adds.
