Chapter Eighteen - Elise
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Elise
Ryder returned less than an hour after he left and found me cleaning the last of the dishes from the various desserts I had spent the day making.
Normally I would’ve been touched by his concern when he asked me if everything was okay, but all my earlier lightness was sucked out of that damned window, and I’m left feeling unbelievably numb.
Usually, Ryder would ask if I’d like to make dinner or have it brought to my room, but he doesn’t bother tonight, and I’m too drained to ask about it.
We walk silently back to my room, and I look at my feet to avoid eye contact when he holds the door for me.
I step through the threshold and close my eyes, taking a deep breath as the door’s lock clicks behind me.
“Long day?”
I nearly jump out of my own skin at the sound of Joshua’s voice.
My head snaps up to find him sitting on the bed, leaning against the wall like he doesn’t have a care in the world. His hair is its usual tamed mess, and though he’s lounging in gray sweatpants and a navy-blue tee, he looks ready to model for a magazine cover.
It’s the most relaxed I’ve ever seen him, and I hate that—for the hundredth time—I wonder what things would be like if he were a normal guy.
Would this be something I could come home to every night?
That idea shouldn’t wake the butterflies in my stomach, but here they are beating their hopeful wings.
What surprises me even more is that across from the bed, right in front of the dresser, is a large TV hung on a rolling stand.
“What’s this?” I ask, breathless from both surprise and exhaustion.
“Well,” he starts, and he seems almost… bashful. “Since we got through the week with minimal issues, I thought we deserved a bit of a break.”
A series of events from this week flash through my head.
Freaking out on our way to the kitchen.
Throwing up when I overheard the soldiers.
Having a panic attack in Joshua’s bedroom.
Yelling at each other after I called my father.
Minimal issues, my ass.
But I agree that we deserve this, so I don’t correct him.
Joshua is my captor; that hasn’t changed. But somehow, everything else has.
Though I don’t understand why—or to what extent—Joshua cares about me.
It’s a terrifying fact that I refuse to explore because I’m not sure I can handle the mental or emotional strain of knowing the truth. Maybe it’s the coward’s way out, but I decide to let myself enjoy this peace offering.
Haven’t I earned this?
After a long moment of silence, he gestures to the space beside him on the bed. “Join me?”
An invitation, not a demand.
I slip into the bathroom to change into cotton shorts and a tank top, throwing my thick hair up in a ponytail. I probably need a shower, but the prospect of watching a movie is too good to delay, so I throw on another layer of deodorant and deem myself clean enough.
When I step into the room, Joshua’s eyes heat with a familiar look that sends a wave of nerves through me.
It dawns on me that it would’ve been smarter to wear sweatpants and a T-shirt, but there’s no way I’m giving him the satisfaction of knowing he’s flustered me, so I climb up into the bed and settle myself roughly a foot away from him.
He eyes the distance I’ve put between us with a knowing smile, and I clear my throat. “What are we watching?”
“Up to you,” he tells me, holding out the remote.
I hesitate for a moment before taking it from his hand and flipping through dozens of titles. I’m overwhelmed by the options: action, comedy, science fiction, and romance—the last is definitely out of the question. It’s only minutes later that I find the perfect movie.
“Really?” he asks, but he doesn’t sound disappointed.
“Really.”
The opening scenes of Die Hard begin, and I cuddle into the covers, keeping a safe distance between us.
“I didn’t think you’d enjoy this kind of movie.”
“Ryder said the same thing, but movie violence doesn’t bother me.” I catch my mistake too late and backtrack. “Don’t be mad at him. I practically begged him to—” The lifting of his hand cuts me off.
“Ryder messaged me. I allowed it.”
“Oh…”
Though I’m glad he’s not mad, a frown still falls on my lips. I liked the idea that Ryder was talking to me because he wanted to, not because he had Joshua’s permission.
Before he can see my disappointment, I direct my attention to the TV, losing myself in the mindless entertainment.
Dinner comes halfway through the movie, and we bring our bowls of chili to the table, turning the TV so we don’t have to pause it and endure awkward silence. We finish our food, and Joshua hands our bowls to a man in the hallway while I readjust the TV.
Though their conversation is mostly hushed, I catch the last part.
“Have Jay send up a bowl of popcorn as soon as he gets the chance.”
“Yes, sir,” the man replies.
When he hops onto the bed beside me, I ask, “We just ate dinner. How can you be hungry for popcorn?”
His eyes spark playfully. “There’s always room for popcorn.”
I laugh, cuddling into the covers as Joshua resumes the movie.
The final scenes are playing when the popcorn arrives, and I shake my head as Joshua takes it at the door. “You’re going to eat a whole bowl of popcorn before this movie ends?”
“No,” he says, hopping onto the bed and tossing a piece of popcorn into his mouth. “We are going to eat this whole bowl of popcorn while we watch the second movie.”
“Really?”
He nods, and we share a smile that floods my chest with warmth. I toss a handful of popcorn in my mouth before I can get carried away, and Joshua chuckles under his breath.
The movie ends, and Joshua stands, setting up the next movie and flipping the light switch off.
“What are you doing?” I ask, my body’s exhaustion catching up to me in the darkness.
It takes a moment for my eyes to adjust, and I expect a rush of fear when his shadowed figure saunters toward me, but there’s only anticipation.
“I prefer movie theater style,” he says, and it’s strange to think of Joshua Moreno, the big bad crime lord, as someone with simple preferences like having the lights off during a movie.
It’s so very human of him.
Joshua climbs onto the bed, far closer than before, our arms separated by less than an inch, and I stiffen instinctively. It’s weird to be so close to him. Though, this isn’t the closest we’ve ever been…
The movie starts, and I yawn into the darkness, realizing that turning off the lights might not have been the best idea.
I’m fully engrossed in the movie when a gentle movement catches my attention, and Joshua’s arm settles over my shoulder. His warmth encases me, and I’m suddenly overly aware of how tense I am.
Slowly, I lean back, glancing up to watch Joshua’s expression as I lay into his body, tucking myself beneath his arm. He doesn’t stop me.
It’s difficult to read his expression in the dark, but it seems almost thoughtful.
I open my mouth to ask him if this is okay, but I’m silenced when, for the second time today, he presses a soft kiss on my forehead. His attention returns to the movie, and I blush furiously in the darkness.
What is up with him? And why am I letting it happen?
But I know the answer—I want this.
A part of me has wanted Joshua since the day he walked into the bakery. Of course, I didn’t know then that he was a ruthless criminal, but our attraction was undeniable.
It still is.
Tucked into Joshua’s side, the tension coiled tightly in every muscle in my body dissipates. His pine scent surrounds me, and though I’m literally lying in bed with the enemy, I feel safe.
I’m not stupid. I haven’t forgotten where I am or the things that he’s done, but I see that he’s trying. He has no reason to treat me as anything other than a prisoner, yet here he is, holding me in his arms as we watch a movie and share a bowl of popcorn.
I know this isn’t exactly a date. How could it be? But I’d be lying if I said that I was miserable right now.
“Joshua?”
“Yes, Princess?” The nickname doesn’t sound so mocking now—more like a term of endearment.
“Thank you for tonight.”
“Thank you for not picking a stupid movie.”
I laugh and toss a piece of popcorn at him.
His chest rumbles with his breathless chuckle, and the sound is unbelievably soothing, like my own personal lullaby.
“Beats another night of poker.”
“So, slumming it with the prisoner isn’t all that bad?” I tease, but a yawn overtakes the end of the sentence, and another round of his laughter strengthens the call of sleep over my body.
He gazes down at me, and the sincerity there burns like wildfire—dangerous, destructive, unstoppable.
“I like spending time with you,” he says.
His scent hits me, and my eyes close with a contented sigh. His arms tighten protectively around me, and my body melts into him like it’s second nature. I want to open my eyes again but they’re heavy with exhaustion, and I don’t have the energy or will to fight it.
“It’s a shame you have to kill me.” My mumbled words morph into another yawn.
I expect him to stiffen at my words, but he doesn’t. Of course, I’m only half kidding.
The world begins to fade as the need to sleep grows irresistible.
“Maybe I’ll just have to keep you then,” he whispers.
I want to ask him what he means, but all I can manage in my sleepy state is, “Hmm?”
Another soft kiss is placed on my forehead. “Don’t worry about it tonight, Princess. You can sleep if you want,” he says, and even though a violent fight scene is playing on the screen, I fall swiftly to sleep.
When I wake up, the TV is still in my room, prompting me to rerun last night’s events in my head.
Once again, I have no idea what has happened between Joshua and me.
I notice then that the screen is on, showing the main menu. Why didn’t Joshua turn it off before he left last night?
That’s when I process the weight over my waist.
I suck in a breath as I turn around to see Joshua lying behind me, arm slung lazily over me.
I scramble out of bed as carefully as I can without waking him.
As soon as I’m standing, I check to make sure I’m fully clothed, breathing a sigh of relief when I realize that I am. I don’t think we did anything beyond cuddling last night.
Taking a moment to steady my breathing, I place one hand over my racing heart.
“Morning.”
I jump at the simple greeting and turn to see Joshua rubbing the sleep from his eyes. His husky morning voice spreads heat over my chest, but that’s not what catches my immediate attention.
He’s shirtless.
Joshua’s chest is beautifully sculpted. Tight muscles ripple down his tan body, leading to a perfect V that I memorize with my eyes. I’ve touched that chest before, but always over his shirt, and I’m positive that touching him now would be infinitely better.
“Where’s your shirt?” The words are out before I can stop them.
He smiles knowingly and sits up to reveal that, thankfully, his sweatpants are still in place. “I don’t wear a shirt to sleep.”
“And why did you sleep here?”
He shrugs. “I got tired and didn’t want to go back to my room.”
Shaking my head, I work diligently to avoid looking at his chest again.
“I’m going to shower,” I say, shifting the TV to grab clothes before darting to the bathroom.
I lock the door, switch on the water, and set my clothes on the counter as I catch my breath.
I stare at my bright red cheeks in the mirror. The dark circles that are normally fixed below my eyes are missing, and I don’t have my usual grogginess. For once, I actually feel well-rested, and I wonder how that can be with all my nightmares… only, I didn’t have any last night.
The one night that I sleep in the arms of my captor, the nightmares don’t come.
I picture Joshua fending off the nightmares to protect me, but that’s not the right image. A more suitable picture is that all the other nightmares were too afraid of the monster that held me to try invading my sleep.
But the monster doesn’t scare me, not anymore. All I feel right now is a desire to know him.
To touch him.
With that thought, I turn the water’s temperature to cold.
After my shower, I towel off and throw on a light pink tee and black sweats. I brush and dry my hair, nearly forgetting to brush my teeth, and throw on deodorant before leaving the bathroom.
I’m not sure what I expected to see when I walked back into my room. Maybe I thought that Joshua would be gone. Maybe I thought he’d be seated at the table with breakfast. Maybe I thought he’d gone back to sleep.
I definitely did not expect to see him fuming beside my bed.
My eyes fall to the small paper in his hand.
The note from my father.