Chapter 18
Chapter Eighteen
Ariana
The scent of bacon pulled me out of sleep before the light did.
For a moment, I thought I was back in my bed. That any second now, I’d hear the click of expensive shoes outside the bedroom door. That I’d have ten minutes to shower, moisturize, and fix my hair before Victor demanded to know why I wasn’t downstairs for breakfast at the correct time.
Then I opened my eyes and took in the wood-paneled walls. I wasn’t home. I shouldn’t have felt the relief I did, given how I ended up here.
But I couldn’t deny this was a much better prison to be trapped in than the one Henry stole me from.
I blinked at the ceiling, trying to make sense of everything that transpired yesterday. I hadn’t seen Henry again after dinner. He’d stormed off like he couldn’t stomach the sight of me.
I should have been afraid of him. In some distant, rational part of my brain, I was.
But I sensed something else hiding beneath that steel exterior. A warmth that didn’t feel like cruelty. It was probably just desperation. My mind latching onto any scrap of kindness it could find after years of inhumanity.
Regardless of the reason, he did feed me. Covered me with a blanket. Made sure I didn’t freeze to death. That didn’t seem like the typical behavior of a kidnapper. Of someone who wished me harm.
Of a monster.
So what the hell was he?
And why was I here?
I swung my legs over the side of the bed and padded to the bathroom. I nearly stepped into the shower out of habit. Victor hated when I left the bedroom looking less than polished. Said it reflected poorly on him, even if the only people who saw me were the members of our household staff.
Victor liked things done his way, and there was no arguing with him, unless I wanted to suffer the consequences. But Victor wasn’t here. And I didn’t have anything else to change into anyway.
I splashed some cold water on my face, twisted my blonde waves into a messy bun, and followed the aroma of bacon downstairs.
The cabin was quiet this morning. A fire flickered in the hearth, and the pillows and blankets on the oversized couch were still strewn where I’d left them.
For the first time in years, nothing around me had been arranged for aesthetic perfection. I didn’t feel like I was living in a museum, always having to be cautious about what I did.
Instead, I felt something I didn’t think I ever would again…
Freedom .
It was an odd thought, considering I was being held captive.
But I’d rather be Henry Fontaine’s captive than Victor Kane’s wife.
As I padded toward the kitchen, the scent of bacon grew stronger with every step.
Golden light filled the space, illuminating Henry’s physique as he stood by the stove, his dark hair disheveled, one hand gripping a pair of tongs, the other holding a strip of bacon.
Cato sat loyally at his feet, tail thumping, eyes fixed on his prize.
“I really shouldn’t be giving you this,” Henry said to him. “But I can’t say no to you when you look at me that way. And you know it. Don’t you, pal?”
I did my best to remain completely silent as I watched him interact with Cato. There was something disarmingly sweet about him as he spoke to his dog when he thought he was alone.
If he really was an irredeemable asshole, he wouldn’t care about his dog. Wouldn’t look upon him with affection. Wouldn’t spoil him with a special treat. But he did, tossing a piece of bacon his way.
Cato inhaled it in one eager gulp, then returned to his watchful pose, hopeful.
“I’m a complete sucker,” Henry muttered under his breath before tossing yet another piece of bacon to the dog, this one much bigger than the last.
As he chewed, he swung his dark eyes toward me. His ears perked up, tail wagging harder. Henry looked up a beat later, his smile quickly disappearing.
“Morning,” he said flatly.
“Morning.”
“Breakfast’s almost ready.” He didn’t meet my eyes.
“Do you cook for all your captives?” I attempted a joke, hoping to coax that smile back.
Why did I want it back?
Why did I care?
But he was just as indifferent as ever.
“You can grab a coffee if you’d like one.” He gestured with his head toward a one-cup brewer on the opposite side of the kitchen.
“Thanks.” I walked toward the brewer and stared at it for a second longer than I probably should have.
“Mugs are right above your head,” he offered, cracking a few eggs into a second frying pan.
I opened the cupboard, found a plain white mug, and set it under the spout.
“Do you even know how to make your own coffee, or are you so used to being waited on that you can’t perform a basic task?”
“I’m not helpless, despite what you want to think of me. I can brew my own coffee.”
I placed a pod into the brewer, slamming down the lever harder than necessary. After hitting a few buttons, a low hum filled the kitchen as the coffee began to drip.
“See?” I faced him, crossing my arms in front of my stomach, a smirk drawn on my mouth.
“Color me impressed,” he retorted, his voice dry. More annoyed than anything.
I wanted to ask why he hated me so much, but why did I care if he liked me or not?
He was the bad guy in this equation. Not me.
Spinning around, I headed toward the refrigerator and grabbed the milk, pouring a bit into my coffee once it was done brewing.
“There’s sweetener on the island,” Henry offered.
My first instinct was to say no. Victor never let me use that stuff. Said it would make me bloated. Ugly. Undesirable.
“Thank you,” I said softly.
I found the container, chose one at random, and stirred it into my coffee. The first sip was perfect — hot, smooth, and just sweet enough.
“Nothing like that first sip of coffee in the morning, huh?” Henry said, watching me with an intensity I hadn’t been expecting.
In truth, I hadn’t expected for him to be watching me at all. He seemed hell bent on avoiding eye contact with me at all costs.
Not right now.
Now, it felt like he was peering straight through me. Through the walls. The lies. The shield I wore to protect myself.
“Something like that,” I offered shakily.
He continued to study me for an unnervingly long time.
Then he looked away. “Food’s almost ready.”
“Need help with anything?”
“Nope.”
I climbed onto one of the stools at the island, wrapping my hands around the mug, savoring the nutty flavor of the strong coffee without feeling like I was being watched.
Granted, Henry was keeping an eye on me, but it wasn’t like it was with Victor. Like he was scrutinizing every single thing I did, filing it away to use against me at a later time.
A few minutes later, Henry set a plate in front of me. Eggs. Bacon. Toast. All things I hadn’t been allowed to eat in years.
It was just food. Just breakfast. But by the way I stared at it, you’d think I was handed the nuclear codes or the secret to eternal life.
“Sorry if it’s not the typical breakfast you eat,” Henry snipped out, much like he did last night.
And like last night, it wasn’t the lack of gourmet food that left me momentarily speechless. It was the sheer normalcy of it. The quiet kindness.
“No, this is…” I pushed out what felt like the first real breath in years. “This is perfect.”
I picked up my knife and fork, my mouth watering as I cut into the bacon.
“It’s bacon. You can use your hands.” He grabbed a strip and devoured it in two bites.
I stared at him, slightly aghast.
Victor would have lost his mind.
But again… Victor wasn’t here.
I set the fork neatly beside my plate, picked up a piece of bacon, and took a bite.
The flavor exploded on my tongue — salty, rich, blissfully greasy. A low moan slipped from my lips before I could stop it.
Henry froze mid-chew.
When I glanced at him, his hungry eyes were trained on me. For a moment, neither of us moved. The space between us tightened, the air heavier than it had any right to be.
“Sorry,” I whispered, breathless. “It’s just…been a while.”
He didn’t answer. Didn’t move. Just stared.
Not vaguely. Not casually.
His dark gaze slowly traveled over my face. The swell of my chest beneath his Henley. My legs covered by his oversized sweatpants. And then, God help me, he brought his eyes back to my lips as I licked a hint of grease from the corner of my mouth.
His jaw tensed, every muscle in his body growing rigid.
My heart pounded so hard I fully expected for it to burst through the walls of my chest.
For a fraction of a second, I thought he might erase the distance between us. Lean in close. Kiss me.
The thought should have horrified me. Should have filled me with the same dread I felt whenever Victor forced himself on me.
But it didn’t.
And that scared me more than anything.
Henry quickly tore his gaze from mine, any of the desire I swore I saw seconds ago gone. “Too provincial to be on the menu at Casa de Kane?” he remarked icily.
“Something like that.” I sliced into the egg, watching as the yolk spilled out over the plate.
I wasn’t about to go into detail about how Victor dictated every aspect of my life.
From what I wore. To what I ate. To how I fucked.
“My dad used to make bacon and eggs every morning before he left for work,” I added when Henry remained silent. “I’d wake up to that smell.”
For years, the scent brought back memories of love and warmth and safety.
Then Victor ruined it.
“He died, right?” Henry asked.
I didn’t ask how he knew. I just nodded. “Drunk driver.” I swallowed hard through the guilt that surfaced every time I thought about that night.
How if I hadn’t lied to my parents about where I was, he wouldn’t have gone out looking for me. He wouldn’t have been in that intersection when a man who’d had his license revoked years ago blew through a red light after drinking too much.
He would still be alive.
Our family’s floral shop wouldn’t have struggled, and I wouldn’t have been so quick to find salvation in the arms of a monster.
I wouldn’t be here.
“Everything kind of…fell apart after that,” I continued. “My mom never really got over it. And then when she got sick…” I let the words trail off. No use spilling my life story.
Like he’d care.
“I’m sorry,” he offered.
And it didn’t sound like pity. It sounded real.
He held my gaze for a beat, allowing me to see the truth in his words before abruptly standing, giving me yet another dose of emotional whiplash.
“Some clothes will arrive for you today. Basic necessities, too.”
I should have felt frustrated or despondent over this information. If he had arranged for clothes and other necessities for me, he had no intention of letting me go anytime soon.
But I had to admit things weren’t horrible here. I was safe from Victor.
And despite knowing next to nothing about Henry, he’d yet to lay a single hand on me.
“Where are you going?” I asked as he turned toward the same hallway he’d stormed down last night.
“I have work to do.”
“And what about me?”
“I’m not here for your amusement, princess.”
“You’ve made that point perfectly clear,” I snapped. “But what am I supposed to do? Stare at the wall all day?”
“Enjoy the quiet.”
I exhaled sharply. “Do you have a book I can read at least? Something to keep me from losing my mind?”
He paused for a moment, glancing over his shoulder.
“There’s a study off the living room. You’ll find a few books in there.”
“Thank you.”
He didn’t respond. Just disappeared into the shadows.
Like a ghost.