Chapter 3
Cori
No sound comes from either of us. There’s only silence in the room. Not even that monster he calls a pet makes a sound. He lets me go. My legs no longer support me, and I fall on the couch. A very expensive piece of furniture, which is now soiled from the remnants of my orgasm.
The shame hits almost immediately. I don’t look in his direction as I find my clothes and put them back on.
I just fucked the leader of a money laundering operation. I close my eyes and take a deep breath. At least now he’ll let me go. Maybe this was the point he wanted to prove. He didn’t force me. I wanted it as much as he did, if not more.
I stand by the door and wait for him to let me out. I have no idea where I am, but I’m sure I can find my way. He returns to the kitchen, washes his hands, and then resumes cooking.
“I’d like to leave, please.” I was once told that if you sound authoritative and confident, others will believe you, and since my baby voice didn’t work, this might be a better option.
“Sit. I’m making dinner.” He gestures to the island. “This is around the time you would eat while sitting in your car, although your choices are really unhealthy. You ate an entire pizza once, but that was better than the bag of Cheeto Puffs you ate last week.”
My confident demeanor drops at his words.
“Yeah. I’ve been watching you, watching me.
It’s been fun. I learned a lot about you.
Your nutrition is terrible, so we have to change that.
” He cranes his neck to look at me. “Gotta keep you healthy, Bella.” He tsks and shakes his head.
“I also notice that you change your hairstyle every few days. You’re very dedicated to your tasks.
The only time you left me alone was when your mother called you. ”
Something starts to sizzle in a skillet. He uses a wooden spoon to stir it as if he didn’t just admit to stalking me.
“You’ve been stalking me?” I ask, aghast.
He nods. “For almost as long as you’ve been stalking me.
It’s really broken up the minutia of my day-to-day.
” He chuckles. “I’m so glad I caught the interest of one as beautiful as you.
” He puts the spoon down, walks to me, and puts both hands on my shoulders.
I try to shrug him away. “Really, though, what were you thinking? That kind of game is dangerous. I could be a complete nutcase. You’re lucky I’m not.
” He tsks like he’s disappointed. He taps my nose with his index finger before he lifts me off my feet and puts me back on the chair in the kitchen island.
He pours me a fresh glass of wine and places a fruit platter in front of me.
“Much healthier than junk food. Eat, Bella. You’re going to need your strength.
” He kisses my cheek like it’s the most normal thing in the world. I jerk away from him.
“Need my strength for what?” I ask once his words register. “Are you going to play some sick, twisted game?” Panic sets in again. “Are you going to kill me?”
“Bella,” he chides. “That hurts, sweetheart. I’ve never hurt or killed a woman in my life.
My mother raised me better than that.” He shakes his head as if he’s sad.
“What I meant was that I want more of what we had on the couch. Maybe in a bed with dimmed lights and some soft R&B playing overhead. A little Luther Vandross.”
“Who?” I shake my head, unsure of what this crazy fuck is talking about.
“You calling my name.” I swallow at the imagery and picture him in the shower or in the bathtub with water glistening all over that supple, brown skin.
“I don’t want any of that. I want to leave.” I try to sound authoritative again, but I don’t think I succeed.
“Sorry, but no.” He has the nerve to tap my nose again. I slap his hand. “You set this into motion, and you’re going to see it through.” He lifts a kiwi and puts it to my lips, and I knock it away.
“I did not set being kidnapped by a maniac into motion! And I’m not eating or drinking.”
“Maniac?” He shakes his head again. “You are being so hurtful when all I’ve done is offer you expensive wine and organic fruit while I cook your dinner.”
“I don’t want any of that. What I want is to get out of here!” I snap. I go so far as to slam my hand on the counter.
“Now, don’t hurt your hand.” He tries to touch me, but I jump out of the chair. “Oh, so now you’re scared of me?” He puts scared in air quotes. He comes closer. “Where was this fear when you started following me weeks ago? Or when you tried to get my dog picked up by the Humane Society.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” The lie easily slips out of my mouth.
He shakes his head and makes a tsking sound. He drops his phone on the counter and plays a recording. It’s my voice.
“Hi. My name is Jane Doe.” The phone goes quiet, and then I clear my throat on the recording. “Uh, Jane Dobowkowski, and I’m calling to make a complaint about a big ass ugly dog. He was seen chasing children at—”
I close out of the app. “That’s not me. You can do anything with AI these days.
” I cross my arms and look away. “I don’t give a shit about you or that beast. I just want out of here.
You’re holding me against my will. Not that I did any of the things you’re accusing me of, but it’s not illegal to follow someone or to try and protect kids from a rabid and dangerous monster of a dog.
The way I see it, if that voice on your phone isn’t AI, which I’m sure it is, that person is a hero. ”
“It’s a crime to lie about a puppy who has hurt no one.”
“Puppy?” I ask, aghast. “That rabid bitch?”
“Don’t you dare call her that.” He takes a deep breath before continuing. “And, I do believe stalking is illegal. You might want to brush up on these things. It’s disappointing that you don’t know that, since you work for a lawyer.”
“You would know a lot about what’s illegal and what’s not, huh?”
“Oh, Bella,” he chides. “Don’t open that door, sweetheart, because once you do, it will be impossible to close.”
I refuse to engage further. I look away while I try to come up with another plan to get away from him. It’s obvious he’s deranged, and I should have thought better of this. My cousin Selene and my best friend, Eden, warned me to drop it. I didn’t listen.
The nutcase in the room doesn’t speak again, but I’m very aware of him. I hear things sizzling, and even I have to admit that whatever he’s cooking smells good. My stomach growls, and I wish I had grabbed my bag full of snacks.
His back is turned while he reaches for plates in an overhead cabinet. I slip off the chair and tiptoe to the door that leads to the garage. I turn the knob, and it shifts, but when I pull, it’s locked, and I’m unable to move the lever to unlock it.
He turns and sees me at the door, but he’s holding two plates.
Instead of putting them on the island, he puts them on the round table in the breakfast nook.
He dims the lights and lights two candles as if this is some romantic rendezvous.
I eye the plates of food. It’s black fettuccine with jumbo shrimp on top.
It’s my absolute favorite meal, and I don’t know how he would know that.
He snaps his fingers as if he just remembered something and returns to the kitchen to grab a block of Parmesan cheese.
He shaves some on both plates and gestures for me to sit. I don’t make a move.
He sighs in either disappointment or annoyance before he lifts me off my feet and brings me to the table. I make my body go rigid when he tries to get me to sit.
“Dammit. Stubborn ass woman,” He mutters.
“Lucky for you, I like a challenge.” Having decided that I’m done talking to him, I don’t answer.
He tries to contort my body, but I remain rigid.
He lets me go. He stands behind me and puts both hands on my hips.
I try to move away, but he keeps me in place.
His warm lips hit the side of my neck, and his tongue glides across my skin.
I stomp on his foot, but my bare foot and his shoes hurt.
“Don’t hurt yourself,” he whispers. “I want you to feel pleasure, not pain.” His lips land on my neck again, and I betray myself by moaning, so I elbow him in the ribs.
“Fine.” He moves away and plops himself down on a chair, leaving me standing.
I don’t move. Not when he sips his wine. Not when he wraps his fork around his fettuccine and takes a bite. I reach for my plate, not to eat, but to toss it on the floor. However, he must have anticipated my move, because he picks it up and moves it away.
“One thing you should know about me is that I don’t like to waste food.
” As if I give a single fuck about anything about him.
“And you’re not eating because you think I put something in your dinner.
” I remain stoic. “One, I would never do that to a guest.” I raise an eyebrow.
“Two, I take pride in my cooking, and you should be grateful. I don’t cook for very many people.
Most people I associate with don’t even know how skilled I am in the kitchen.
” I turn my back on him and start pacing.
“Whatever you’re planning won’t work. And here is the true test.” He doesn’t say anything anymore, so I face him.
He takes a noodle from my plate, drops it on the floor, and whistles.
That monster darts across the room and eats it.
“I would never hurt my baby. If she can eat it, you can too.”
This man is equating me with that ugly beast. I flare my nostrils and walk away before I fly across the room and strangle him.
My pacing resumes, but I don’t keep it in the kitchen.
I walk away and enter into a massive and impressive living room, only I’m too annoyed to admire my surroundings.
But I do notice a small picture frame on the coffee table and pick it up.
It’s a family picture. He’s in it, but he looks like he’s about sixteen or seventeen.
He looks the same, except he’s gaunt. There’s a woman who looks like him, but seems too young to be his mother, and she’s holding a cute baby girl dressed in a frilly pink dress.
There’s also a man in a wheelchair. It’s different than the one my mom has.
You can tell this one is more expensive and elaborate.
The man appears to be paralyzed, whereas my mom uses hers because she has difficulty walking since the accident.
I lift the picture over my head, ready to smash the frame onto the marble floors, but it’s snatched from me. He shakes his head and gently puts the picture back down.
“Don’t do that. That’s the last picture we took together before Neal got really sick.
He wasn’t my biological father, but he did more for me than any father could for their son.
” He rubs his face with his big hands. “You know, you can do and say really mean things, but I’m a patient and forgiving man.
Lucky for you.” He extends a hand, but I don’t take it.
“I’d like for you to come back in the kitchen and eat. ”