Chapter 41
Sabine
Cillian appears in the doorway.Astor is visibly upset at the interruption.
“Excuse me.” He rises from the table. As he moves around my chair, he runs his fingertip along the back of my neck, leaving a trail of fire on my skin.
Just his touch.
With just his touch, I melt.
Astor returns quickly, his brows drawn with stress.
“Have you found Carlos?” I ask, assuming that’s what the interruption was about.
“No. But we’ve made contact.”
“Have you tried to call him from my cell phone? You could pin his location that way, I’m sure.”
“He doesn’t answer.”
Ouch. That stings. I’ve given Carlos years of my life, and for what?
No one would care if you left ...
My mood soured, I begin poking the veal. “Listen, Carlos isn’t going to resurface. He doesn’t care that you have me, and that’s clear. Me being bait isn’t working out well for you, is it? So, if you’re just keeping me here to toy with me, why? A man like you—with the wealth and lifestyle you have—can have any woman you want, and you don’t have to hold her hostage.”
“You think having money and notoriety automatically makes me a playboy?”
“Yes.”
“You’re correct. I cheated on Valerie more times than I can count.”
“No offense, but I’m not surprised.”
“None taken.”
“And this kind of playboy lifestyle fulfills you?”
“No. Does your hermit lifestyle fulfill you?”
“No.”
“So, endless women and endless solitude do not give us contentment.”
Us.
“What do you think your life is lacking, Miss Hart?”
“Love. Yours?”
“Same.”
We stare at each other with such intensity, such profound understanding, that goose bumps rise on my arm. And in that moment, I know—I know—my life is about to change.
“How is your veal?” he asks, although clearly hungry for something else.
“I could make better,” I respond.
“You cook?”
“I know my way around a kitchen, yes.”
“Then you’ll cook for me tomorrow night.”
“Will I, Master?”
“Yes.”
“But I thought ... I thought I was leaving tomorrow. Cillian mentioned I had twenty-four more hours here.”
“I decide the length of your stay.”
“So, I’m not leaving?”
“I just said you’re cooking for me tomorrow night.”
“Well, Captor, this will require a trip to the grocery store.”
“Give me a list. I’ll get it.”
“What do I get in exchange for serving you, my lord?”
He has the same ravenous look as right before he kissed me in the bathroom. He stands, drops his napkin on his chair, and watching me like he’s about to eat me, he walks to the end of the table, where I am still seated. He rounds to the back of me.
My heart hammers.
Soft fingertips graze the nape of my neck, gently pulling away hair from my face. Lips tickle the tip of my ear.
“What do you want?” he whispers.
You, I think but don’t say it.
He moves to my other ear. “Seven o’ clock, darling. Do not be late.”
And then like a ghost, he’s gone.