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Neither of those options was appealing.
Drawing in a deep breath, I plastered a smile to my face and linked my hands in front of me so I wouldn’t fidget. Fidgeting could very well lead to broken fingers, and I’d learned my lesson when I was thirteen about that.
My father swung open the front door and heartily greeted Amadeus.
My breath got caught in my lungs.
Amadeus was wearing a plain black t-shirt and a pair of dark-wash jeans. His hair was a mess of curls on the top of his head, and a five o’clock shadow caressed his jaw. He looked breathtakingly gorgeous in a way no human had any right to be.
“Sorry I’m not more presentable,” he apologized, shaking my father’s hand. “I came here directly from school, and I didn’t want to risk being late to take out your beautiful daughter.”
He was laying it on thick. Was I the only one who could see through his polite, good-boy demeanor to the monster that lurked just beneath the surface? He hid it well, but apparently, he didn’t bother hiding it from his victims.
“Nonsense, son. I can admire a man who’s focused on his studies. Your father says you’re majoring in Biblical studies, is that correct?”
If I’d been drinking anything, I would have spit it everywhere.Biblical studies? That was the most laughable thing I’d ever heard. There was no way a guy like him truly worshipped God.
But then again, one look at my father would tell anyone that not everything was as it seemed. Seemed like all men of the church were disgusting, vile abusers.
“Well, I’ll let you two get on then,” Dad suddenly announced. I’d obviously missed something, and panic clawed at my throat. Dad grabbed my arm and pulled me forward, his nails biting through my sweater despite the pleasant, happy smile on his face. “I trust you’ll have her home at a respectable time?”
“Of course, sir,” Amadeus promised him.
Dad let me go but not before giving my arm one more squeeze. My eyes were on Amadeus though, and I didn’t miss the rage darkening his eyes as he stared where my father had been gripping me, though his facial expression never changed, remaining pleasant. A man capable of looking happy and calm while anger simmered just beneath the surface was something truly terrifying.
I sucked in a sharp breath of air when Amadeus pressed his hand to my lower back and led me to his car. “My touch bother you that much?” he rumbled quietly in my ear.
I quickly shook my head. “Sorry. Just a little jumpy,” I apologized. I was used to giving out apologies. It was almost an automatic thing for me to do anymore.
He pulled open the door without a word. Somehow, my legs didn’t give out beneath me as I sank into his plush, leather seat, my hands trembling. I tightened my fingers around each other, clasping them tightly in my lap, drawing in a deep breath to regulate my racing heartbeat and my quickening breaths.
I was panicking, but I didn’t know how to stop it. I jumped in fright when he suddenly closed the driver’s door. A smirk tilted his lips.
“Afraid?” he asked as he pulled off from the curb, heading toward the interstate that would take us out of town.
“No,” I lied, but my voice was higher in pitch, giving me away. I didn’t knowhowto lie. I’d never had a reason to have to lie before, but fear brought out that single word instead of what I was really feeling.
He chuckled—a dark, husky sound that sent chills of apprehension slithering down my spine. “You are, and you should be. Because we’re not going out to eat tonight.”
Oh, God. I was pretty sure I was going to be sick. Vomit was rising in my throat, and my gut was churning. If I threw up all over his clean car, would he punish me? Hurt me?
“We’re not?” I squeaked, swallowing down the vomit. I wouldnotthrow up and do something to anger him.
A dangerous smile tilted his lips as he hit the indicator to merge into traffic. “No, little blondie, we’re not. We’re going to play a game.”
My stomach rolled, and I felt all the blood rush from my head. “I’m going to be sick,” I choked out.
He barked out a laugh, only growing amused. “If you get sick in my car, blondie, I’m going to make you lick it all up,” he promised.
I retched but managed to swallow the vomit again all while tears pooled in my eyes.
At that moment, I thanked God I wasn’t allowed to wear makeup because I knew by the end of my evening with Amadeus, it would be wrecked.
And I was terrified to find outhow.
ChapterSix
Amadeus
