Chapter 43 #2
After my shower, I change into the sleeping shorts and tank top Kane left out for me on the laundry basket.
No doubt they belong to Nolene or that joke-playing female friend of his.
I experience an uncomfortable stab in my midsection.
When I identify it as jealousy, shock churns inside me and my skin prickles with shame.
This man is my kidnapper. He’s done horrible things to me.
He hates my father, and it’s obvious that hatred spills over onto me.
I see it in his eyes—the contempt for my wealthy lifestyle, for my carnivorous diet, for the clothes and accessories I wear made of animal products.
And yet my body responds anyway, betraying me. Like fear has nowhere else to go and mutates into something reckless and dangerous instead.
I use the toothbrush on the counter to brush my teeth, staring at my freshly scrubbed, makeup-free face in the mirror. I look younger, more vulnerable. I release an unsteady breath. I miss my father so much it’s like an ache in my bones.
Oh, Daddy, I need you to come get me before something happens. Before I do something I won’t be able to forgive myself for.
I open the bathroom door and spot Kane leaning against the wall, arms folded across his chest, dark shadows under his eyes. Kidnapping must be a tiring business, I think without an ounce of sympathy.
My eyes drift to the bandage on his head.
I did that to him. The admission comes with a mix of surprise and satisfaction.
A dangerous and admittedly stupid desire to goad him sweeps through me.
Some twisted part of me wants to prove I still have power.
Another part wants to punish myself for even noticing him.
I ignore caution and ride the impulse. “You ready to manhandle the big, bad prisoner back to her room?”
His eyebrows lift at my tone, but he says mildly, “I’ll escort you back.” He gestures for me to go ahead of him.
Actually, I have no desire to return to my room.
I’m tired of being cooped up, of feeling as if the walls are closing in on me.
Kane’s remoteness also annoys me. I want to unsettle him, to disrupt his life as he’s disrupted mine, to let him taste how it feels when the center of your world tips and can’t right itself.
I cross my arms and stay stubbornly where I am, the rain outside beating a tempo that matches the rapid pace of my heart.
A thoughtful look crosses Kane’s face as he processes my mood. His gaze sweeps down my body, seeming to register my skimpy outfit for the first time. Something dark creeps into his eyes. “Let’s go,” he orders brusquely.
Ah, this is the sort of power I’m used to.
Hiding a pleased smile, I raise my arms above my head in a deliberate stretch, watching Kane’s mouth tighten and feeling the stomach-plunging thrill of a tightrope walk.
Ignoring the warning voice in my head, I flounce ahead of him, the slate-gray tiles cool under my feet and his gaze burning hot on my back.
The shorts are skimpy enough to show off my best asset, my long, toned, now-smooth legs.
Nolene, that viperous partner of Kane’s, has an excellent figure. From the possessive way she behaves around him, I’m guessing they’re in a relationship. They suit each other, sharing the same warped beliefs.
If I can make Kane look, then I’m not just a victim. I’m someone else. Someone dangerous. Someone I don’t fully recognize anymore.
#
As Kane rolls up his bedding and deposits it outside the door, I sit on the edge of my unmade bed, legs crossed, right foot swinging, studying him, wondering how far I can push this.
Wondering what my therapist would say to me right now.
I can almost hear her well-modulated voice asking me if I’m choosing a course of action simply to punish myself.
Maybe I am. Pain has always been easier to feel than emptiness.
More and more, the only times I feel truly alive is when I self-sabotage.
Then again, what does my therapist know? She didn’t cure my fear of the dark.
“I’ll remove temptation,” Kane says, unhooking the mirror above the desk to place it in the hallway.
I snort. “Maybe you should take the bed as well,” I tell him. “In case I manage to scrape out a splinter and gouge out your eye.”
He halts mid-step. “It scares me you’re even thinking that.”
“I’m thinking a lot of things. None of them good.”
His eyes narrow. “Anything else you need?” he asks with forced politeness.
“My freedom would be nice.”
“Not gonna happen right now.”
“Coward.”
All the while I’m thinking, Amy, you fool. You reckless, idiotic fool. If he falls, so do you. Perhaps it’s the blue teeth. It’s hard to feel like a victim when your captor has blue teeth.
In two long, angry strides, Kane is looming over me, his hands gripping my upper arms, jerking me off the bed to stand in front of him.
This has gone too far. I know it even as my body refuses to listen.
“What kind of game are you playing here?” he grounds out.
I look up at him, self-destructive exhilaration quickening my pulse. With a five o’clock shadow heavy on his face, a storm building in his eyes, there’s a fierceness to him that’s a continent away from the corporate suits who typically trail after me.
What kind of game am I playing? I have no idea.
His grip tightens. “This is a game you can’t win.”
“Neither can you.”
Our eyes lock. He’s so close. The heat from his body brings an excited flush to my own. I can smell mint on his breath, the lemon tang of his aftershave, the male, sleep-warm scent of his skin.
I want him to kiss me.
I want to claw his eyes out.
Abruptly, Kane lets go of me and takes a quick step back, staring at me as if he hates me. “That,” he says in a hoarse voice, “will never happen between us.”
He leaves the room so quickly it takes a minute for his absence to register. When it does, I sink to the floor and draw my knees to my chest.
I wanted to kiss him.
I forgot my father, forgot everything Kane subjected me to.
What is happening to me? How can I betray my father like this? Betray myself like this?
I wrap my arms around my knees and rock back and forth in a mindless agony of shame.