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I lick my lip and grin. “I wonder if sarcasm is a side effect.”
“I’m actually pretty fucking nice, but assholes always bring out the worst in me.”
I step closer, unable to resist. Part of me wants her to end up being a fraud, so I have a good reason for punishing her.
But the other part wants nothing more than to yank her into my arms and kiss her.
Fucking hell, this woman is going to be the death of me.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Astrid
The way he’s looking at me makes me shrink back. He shakes his head as if to clear it before clearing his throat.
“Do you need to use the bathroom or anything?”
“I’m fine.”
“Good. Then I’ll tuck you in.”
The urge to punch him in his stupid handsome face is so strong I have to take a deep breath and count to ten before blowing it out.
“I think I can manage,” I say between gritted teeth.
I move and walk past him into the bedroom, and he grabs my wrist and spins me to face him.
“Did I make it seem like an option?” He backs me up until my feet hit the bed and I topple down.
I scramble across the bed, fighting to hold the T-shirt down so that I don’t expose myself, which is ridiculous. He’s already seen it all, but there’s something far more intimate when a bed is involved.
“Now, don’t look so scared, pet. Your virtue is safe from me.”
I’m not sure if he’s telling me he’s a good guy or if I’m just not his type. Frankly, I don’t care as long as he keeps his hands and dick to himself.
“What about my tongue?” He smirks, which is when I realize I said all that out loud.
My face flames, but I simply lie down and move as far across the bed as I can and face the wall. If I can’t leave, the least I can do is ignore the asshat. I hear a drawer slide open, but I don’t turn. I keep myself as far removed from him as possible until I feel the bed dip.
I’m mid-turn when I feel my arm being tugged and hear the telltale sound of handcuffs clicking as they snap into place around my wrist. I open my mouth to scream, but he presses his free hand over it, using the other to snap the other end of the cuff to the ornate metal bed frame.
“You can scream all you want. The rooms are soundproofed.”
My chest rises and falls rapidly as I try to suck air into my lungs, but it’s not helping.
“Be good, and you’ll earn privileges. Piss me off, and I’ll show just how much of a bastard I can be.” His free hand skims up my thigh as the other continues to cover my mouth. “After all, the T-shirt is mine. I could just take it back. And the bed is Jagger’s. You could always sleep on the floor.”
I tune him out—his words blurring into one another as I dismiss his monologue—while I try to calm the panic threatening to make me pass out. I don’t like being confined, but I can handle it—barely. It’s one of the things I got help with from the legion of therapists I saw, but handcuffs… Well, that’s a different story altogether.
He climbs off the bed and heads for the door. I want to beg him to remove the cuffs. Plead with him that I’ll be good if he just takes them off. But I bite my lip hard, knowing it’ll just give him more ammunition.
I wait until he leaves and closes the door behind him before I give in to the tears. I sob into the pillow, glad for the soundproofing right now. I don’t want him to have the satisfaction of knowing how much his brand of torture is affecting me.
My chest feels tight, and my breathing comes in short pants while spots dance before my eyes as I find myself caught between then and now. Normally, I’d talk myself through a panic attack, reminding myself that I’m not back there, I’m home and safe. But that won’t work this time. Right now, I’m as far from safe as I can get.
So instead of fighting the darkness when it pulls at me, I give into it, needing a break from the fear that’s making my muscles seize and cramp. My body already throbs from my failed escape earlier. If I ever want a second chance at getting away from this place, I need to heal, and right now, that means sleep.
* * *
