Chapter Eleven
Ashlynn
Steele forced me roughly into the dining room before pushing me back into a chair at the end of a refectory table, the type you’d see at a fancy wedding. To be honest, I was a little surprised he didn’t tie me to the chair, especially considering I had a knife against his throat the night before. I had found myself pushing him as far as I could, but to be honest, I didn’t know why. Was I really just mad at my father, and misdirecting all my frustrations on my kidnapper?
That was insane. Of course, I should be angry and fight my captor with every bone in my body. I’d seen movies and read books where the heroine falls head over heels with her jailer, but this was real life. Not one of my mom’s crazy novels. As hot as Steele was, he was keeping me against my will. That was the plain and simple truth of the matter.
The table was set up elegantly, and the finest crystal and silver adorned the pristine tablecloth. Several candlesticks were lit, giving the room a soft, cozy glow.
“Is this how you try to get into my pants?” I snorted sarcastically.
Steele sat on the other side of the long table, wearing dark jeans and a gray shirt. He must have showered right before he came downstairs, because his hair was still a bit wet, the ends shining with water under the low lighting.
“If I wanted to get into your pants, I would have already succeeded,” he purred. “And if you recall, I was the one who pushed you away last night.”
My cheeks radiated with warmth, and I knew I was blushing. I hoped that he wouldn’t see the red on my cheeks from across the table.
“I was thinking of someone else,” I lied lamely. “Plain and simple. I would never want you, not in a million years.”
“We’ll see,” he said smugly, pausing the conversation as the older man I’d tripped in the basement came forward. He had a bandage on his head from where he’d fallen into the metal of the bed, but I refused to care. There were always casualties in battle, and whatever there was between me and Steele raged like a war to end all wars.
The man placed a glass of scotch in front of Steele and then went to exit the room again. I watched as Steele lifted the glass to his mouth and gulped down the liquid.
“Speaking of last night, I believe I reminded you that I need to be drunk to be in your company,” I said, my eyes meeting his. He glared at me hard, and then snapped his fingers and nodded towards his butler.
“Rude,” I mumbled under my breath.
Steele’s eyes didn’t leave mine, silently challenging me. His stare was so intense that I dropped my gaze after a few seconds, unable to withstand his intense scrutiny.The air was charged, the tension palpable.
“That’s what I thought, Miss Phillips.” He was obviously happy that he won our silent standoff.
I ground my teeth, torn between wanting to rip his head off, or his clothes. I didn’t know why I was attracted to him. It had to be purely physical, because his superior attitude and cocky mannerisms weren’t appealing to me. And yet…his strength and his control intrigued me a bit. I’d really thought he was going to strangle me the night before, and then again in my room this afternoon he restrained himself when I hit him with the book. It almost seemed like a game to him, like he was trying to keep me on my toes.
I would also never admit it or let him know, but I did find him handsome. He was lean, but muscular in all the right places. His shirt stretched over his large biceps, and his face had been shaved clean. With his blue eyes, dark hair and perfect build, he no doubt had a slew of women after him. What could I do to seduce a man like this, and enthrall him enough to grant me my freedom?
The butler came back in with a second glass of scotch. He didn’t so much as glance at me when he set it down with a thud, some of the amber liquid slushing out over the top.
Drink finished, Steele put his elbows on the table and put his fingertips together, leaning over slightly as he watched me drink my scotch.
“Has my father made contact yet?”
With the mention of my father, his face tensed again, forehead wrinkled, and jaw locked.
“You’d be advised, Miss Phillips, not to bring him up again.”
I contemplated sticking my tongue out at him, but I’d already pushed him quite a bit today.
“So, are we going to talk about the weather then?”
He smirked, looking out of the window where the lights of London shone, then he looked back at me.
“I’d rather talk about how you’re going to behave for the rest of your stay here, and the rules you will abide by while under my care.”
“Care? You’re fucking kidding me, right? I’m a hostage here!”
He put up his hand to silence me. For once I bit my tongue, not because of his power over me, but because I was literally too shocked to speak.
“Rule number one, watch your tone and your language, especially when speaking to me.”
“Fucking bullshit,” I muttered haughtily under my breath.
He glared at my retort but continued.
“Number two, you will be locked in your room for the duration of your…stay. I’ll permit you a half an hour of exercise each day, which will be supervised by myself or my butler.”
I bit my lip, changing my mind on the spot and deciding to kill him as soon as humanly possible.
“And finally, you are to touch absolutely nothing in the house. I don’t want you anywhere but the guest room, and the dining room. If you manage to behave yourself, you may have gourmet meals every night with me. If you don’t listen and cause any disturbances to my business or the way I run my home, you’ll be given scraps on a tray in your room. Do I make myself clear?”
“I’d rather eat shit than eat with you.”
This time he bit his lip, and I could see the anger on his face. But there was something else. A spark of fire. A longing to make me obey. The potential solution to all of my problems.
Before I could make another sarcastic comment, his butler brought in two covered plates and placed them in front of each of us. I could smell something rich and inviting underneath it; there was definitely beef, and maybe something starchy, like pasta or potatoes. My mouth watered, and I lifted the lid.
It was a steak with petite baby potatoes, greens and a dinner roll. Hot steam wafted through the air, moistening my face slightly, and I picked up my fork. There was no knife, but I didn’t care. I’d eat it with my hands if I had to. I made a mental note that perhaps dinners with him might not be so bad if this was the prize.
Before I could dig in, the butler headed back towards me, pouring red wine into my wine glass. He glared at me before filling Steele’s glass as well.
“Thank you, Quincy,” Steele said, dismissing him.
I fought the urge to knock over my wine glass just to watch it puddle on the white linens and opulent rug underneath my bare feet. However, my jaw was still sore from where Steele had grabbed me earlier, and I knew that another stunt like that would result in more manhandling. Or…more kissing.
But that was my ultimate goal, wasn’t it? To get him to want me? He seemed to enjoy the way I pushed him and refused him. The way I fought him over everything, never made anything easy on him.
I made up my mind quickly, acting before I lost my courage. I snatched the wine glass, making a mock toast to him, and looked him dead in the eye, my brows arched towards the crystal chandelier hanging from the ceiling.
“Don’t you dare—”
The burgundy liquid poured from my glass and then seeped into the rug underneath the table. I watched the red wine spread, the fingers of the liquid greedy as the pool expanded and sunk into the woven fibers. It was an antique rug, and I panicked slightly, worried that I’d gone too far.
Steele was on me in a flash. Chest heaving, eyes flashing in anger, body shaking. Instead of my jaw, he went for my neck, knocking the chair out from under me and then pushing me up against the oak paneled wall. An eternity seemed to pass as he held me there, his breath erratic.
I waited for his response. What would it be? A kiss? Or would he break down and hit me?
His blue eyes met mine, and I felt like he was penetrating my soul, trying to figure out who I was beyond my parentage. Unblinking, he continued his stare, fingers tense around my neck.
I just peered back, unmoving. I felt like a mouse caught in a trap, and my captor would either release me back into the wild or consume me whole.
But then his grip slackened, and his arms dropped, before he swiftly grabbed me by the elbow, pulling me out of the dining room. I trailed along behind him as he half-carried, half-dragged me alongside him.
“Hey! I want my dinner!” I cried, swatting at him as he yanked me up the stairs. He easily overpowered me; one of his hands could encapsulate both of mine.
Steele didn’t answer me, and I was suddenly mad at myself for not eating my dinner before I pulled my stunt. But he was taking me upstairs, towards the bedrooms. My heart thumped nervously, and my mouth went dry as I realized I had succeeded. I was about to sleep with my enemy. I’d wanted to seduce him, and it was working.
Which is why I felt like an absolute idiot when he shoved me in the guest room, slammed the door in my face and then locked it behind him.