35. The M-Word
the m-word
. . .
Sadie
Sadie’s Guide to Hostage-Taking Being Taken Hostage Forming a Partnership with Your Hostage Embracing the Hostage Lifestyle Not Freaking Out, Tip #20: No matter how talented his tongue is, do NOT fall for your hostage.
I tried my best not to jump to conclusions or freak out.
I failed miserably.
A whole flurry of emotions surged, and I was torn between denial and a sting of betrayal that made me dizzy.
Not that Davian’s father gave me much time to process the bomb he’d just dropped.
“That must make you the mistress I heard about,” he continued, cocking his head to the side as that single eye scrutinized me again. “I wasn’t expecting pink hair. That’s… colorful.”
I almost threw up. Mistress?
Oh god.
“I’m not a mistress,” I corrected him, clenching my hands into fists to hide their shaking.
I couldn’t be. Davian would’ve told me if he was already involved with someone. He would’ve mentioned he was freaking engaged.
… Wouldn’t he?
Unless that was the real reason for not wanting me to meet his father. I couldn’t think of a single reason you would introduce a mistress to your family.
But there were plenty of reasons to hide one.
My stomach heaved involuntarily, and I placed a hand over it. This couldn’t be happening.
Mr. Reed’s brows rose. “Unless I’ve been misinformed? …But my son didn’t meet me at the door like he usually does, and I somehow doubt baking gives the kind of glow you’re sporting.”
The innuendo made my cheeks uncomfortably hot. Sebastian Reed’s manners rivaled those of the teenage thugs.
I schooled my face into what I hoped was an expressionless mask—but felt more like a pained grimace—determined to keep my cool. The last thing I needed was to lose it on Davian’s father. Gladys and Ryan had warned me what he was capable of, and even Davian said he was dangerous.
“You have been misinformed, actually, because Davian’s not getting married,” I told him as calmly but firmly as possible.
He wasn’t.
I refused to believe it.
Denial was a much more appealing option until I could hear the words straight from Davian’s mouth.
I needed to go find him. “Excuse me. I should go?—”
“Not so fast.” Mr. Reed was beside me before I could blink, grabbing my arm and surprising the crap out of me. I froze, gaping at where his fingers dug into my skin. “There’s no need to be dramatic. I just want to know more about the woman who made my boy’s eyes wander.”
He was close—way too close—and my heart hammered against my rib cage with enough force to hurt. I tried to yank my arm back, but his grip didn’t budge.
“There’s been a misunderstanding,” I forced through clenched teeth, fighting to stay calm. But it was difficult when he was holding my freaking arm . “Let’s go find Davian, and he’ll clear this up. He’ll tell you he isn’t getting married.”
Or I’d look like an idiot for falling for an engaged man.
“We’re not going anywhere.” He let out a chuckle more menacing than amused and stepped even closer—boxing me in against the counter. The cinnamon in his aftershave overwhelmed my senses, making me scrunch my nose. “You’re going to tell me what you want from my son.”
I cringed away from him as much as his hold allowed.
Should I scream for help? Will anyone hear me?
No, I needed to handle this myself. Ignoring his question, I scoured the counter for anything to defend myself with, but the only thing within reach was my piping bag. What could I even do with it—squirt icing into the man’s one good eye? Like Davian had said, it wasn’t much of a weapon.
If only I still had Vince’s gun.
I’d have to give politeness a chance instead. “Please let go of me.”
Mr. Reed very noticeably did not let go. If anything, he leaned in until the unbearable heat of his breath crawled down my neck, making me shudder.
“What are you after?” he pressed. “Money? Information? Did someone send you here to seduce Davian?”
I swallowed what would’ve been a hysterical laugh. He was clearly a very paranoid man, because I was the last person anyone would send on a seduction mission.
“I’m not after anything,” I said, attempting to reason with him while leaning further from his stale breath. My gaze dropped to the counter, and I focused on breathing. “I already told you; Davian was just helping me get one of the shelter’s dogs back. That’s all.”
“Yes, the missing dog,” he said dryly. “Was that really the best sob story you could think of?”
I winced. Of course he didn’t believe what had happened to Bear.
I opened my mouth to plead with him again, when another voice cut through the tension—a voice so low and terrifying, it made the little hairs on my arms stick straight up.
“Let her go.”