Chapter Two #2
And that brings me to my actual real-life can-you-believe-it day job.
I work as a fitness instructor posting exercise routines online, creating videos to inspire others to get fit and take on new challenges.
My channel is growing, but I have done well over the last few years to build a strong following online.
I am starting to see the benefits of my hard work with sponsors, ads, and companies contacting me to review and promote their products.
The basement was meant to be a studio space to create videos, complete workout sessions, and store old equipment when it wasn’t in use. Danny had been building me the space when he was in high school, but since he’d started working for Sleeping Beauty over there, he hasn’t had the time.
Austin stirs, and a low grumble reverberates from his throat. He tries to pull his hands up to his face, but the clink of metal halts his movement.
My heart thumps against my ribs. The reality of the situation is starting to sink in. My body is acting like I’ve been trying to bench press one hundred kilos rather than thirty.
What the fuck have I done?
Visions of me being hauled out of my house in handcuffs, headlines like “Wannabe Fitness Influencer Kidnaps Beautiful Man” scan across the back of my eyes.
I wish I could say I didn’t mean to do this.
But who can say they accidentally chloroformed and kidnapped somebody?
Sorry, your honor, he slipped on the cloth and then fell into my basement.
Oh, the chains? Well, I didn’t know who he was, so I thought I’d take a precautionary measure .
His snuffles get a little louder, and I step away from him.
Maybe I could gauge his reaction in the shadows first before revealing myself.
My eyes fix on him as his strong, long fingers run over the length of chains.
His strength is clearly returning. His body movements suggest he is assessing his situation, tugging on the chains, his head moving around to look for anything familiar. ..to look for me.
“Hello?” his gravelly voice calls out.
“Err, hi.”
He strains his neck around, and I give him a small wave from my corner. Attempting to sit up, his head swirls, and he flops back down onto the pillow.
“Fuck,” he groans.
“You’re probably still a bit groggy from the . . . well, the . . . you know . . . stuff.”
“Stuff?” he repeats, turning to look at me once again, this time with more success.
“Yes, the um, well, the cloth with the...you know...” I draw my empty hand up to my mouth and take a big inhale before rolling my eyes back and pretending to pass out.
He frowns, confused, obviously. I am acting like a lunatic.
“I’m still asleep,” he mutters, moving his neck back to a normal position and closing his eyes. “I’ll wake up in a minute, and I won’t have helped the crazy girl at the fucking juice bar.”
“Uh, rude. I’m not crazy,” I snip, stepping out of my corner.
“Sure you’re not, imaginary person in my head.”
“Why would you be dreaming about me?” My heart rate picks up as I remember the few times I’ve caught his eye at Squeeze the Day.
Hunger is the name I would give the looks he gave me.
Like he’s dying for a treat that doesn’t contain seeds or some sort of vegetable in it, like what Jenny offers at the juice bar. Something that no food could satisfy.
“I always dream about...” he stops mid-way through a breathy sentence and lets out a rip-roaring snore.
“Brilliant,” I mutter.
I drag over the wicker chair I’d been storing down here and place it by the shelves containing my gym equipment.
He’ll be able to see me when he wakes up, so I sit back in the chair and wait.
Any presumptions of getting comfy are thwarted as I can’t seem to sit still.
Instead, I tiptoe cautiously over to him and tug on the chains one more time—they’re solid.
There’s no way he’s getting out of here.
Despite this, in a last-minute panic, I trap his wrists together with a cable tie.
I’m still baffled that I’ve made it this far.
He’s the head of the formidable Unseen, but really, he’s just some guy.
Distracted by a pair of swinging hips and boobs squished into a crop top.
It’s kind of pitiful. Sure, my behavior today has probably been a little bit of a shock.
I’d only ever scowled at him or ignored him, which I’m sure irritated him even more. He didn’t know me or why I hated him.
Despite his pathetic performance earlier, I can’t let empathy dictate how this goes. I could be soft, forgiving...none of which are bad traits. But this is life or death, and I need him to do what I tell him.
He’s quiet for a while, and for a moment, I think he might be dead.
Leaning into him, I get a whiff of his cologne.
He smells woodsy, like pine and fire, like a man who knows how to take care of himself in the wilderness, which only irritates me further.
His face is soft like this, almost angelic.
I shake my head, reminding myself that this man is cold and calculated.
Despite his warm brown eyes and dark hair, he is the devil wrapped up in the trappings of a hardworking man.
Even now, passed out, mouth slightly parted, he’s cruelly handsome.
He stirs a little, his breathing quickening as his chest rises and falls more rapidly.
Maybe he’s waking up for real this time.
I’m not sure I want to be here when he finally realizes his situation.
I’m worried he’s going to be aggressive and violent, but mostly, I don’t think I could handle him yelling.
He’s going to be furious when he realizes he wasn’t dreaming.
I bite my thumbnail and glance around the room one more time. The space is soundproof to a point. We are out in the middle of nowhere, which will explain why I was more than happy to drag an unconscious man out of my vehicle in the middle of the day.
Despite the location being ideal, my nerves get the better of me when I think he may scream out for help. I know I’d give in quickly and let him go. And I can’t do that without getting what I need first.
His fingers grip the chains once more and tug. The cable tie cuts into his skin as he tries to maneuver his way around the restraints.
My mouth is dry, but my palms are sweating uncontrollably. Just wake up, get this part over with, and then I can calm down. I’ll make a nice smoothie to treat myself with some extra peanut butter. Just what I deserve for kidnapping. A nice little treat.
His eyes flutter open, and he rolls onto his back. He’s still for a moment and then lifts his cable-tied wrists, inspecting them slowly.
“So I wasn’t dreaming . . . huh,” he mumbles.
“Nope . . . not dreaming,” I reply cautiously.
He’s silent as he turns his focus to me. I feel the heat of his gaze the second his eyes land on mine.
“How are you feeling?” I ask, like a nurse to their patient.
He pauses for a moment to consider the question. “Not as bad as I thought I would.”
I nod, swallowing again. I need some water to fix this dry-mouth situation.
“And how are you? You look a little peaky,” he adds, staring at me.
Oh god, I may just let him go now. Does kidnapping work like the five-second rule when you drop food on the floor?
You can still eat it as long as you pick it up in five seconds.
Ten seconds if it’s really something delicious.
Maybe if I back out within a minute of him waking up, we can just pretend that this never happened and go back to me scowling at him at Squeeze the Day.
Why isn’t he scared? Why isn’t he screaming out and asking who I am and what he’s doing here?
“I’m fine, thank you,” I clip.
“First kidnapping?” he asks, his eyes focused on me.
“I don’t make a habit of it.”
He rolls back onto his back and closes his eyes. “It’s not for everyone. ”
He looks goddamn relaxed. Like he hasn’t just been kidnapped and this is all going to just work out. But he’s not in charge here. I am.
“Do you want to know why you’re here?”
“I’m sure you’ll let me know when you’re ready,” he replies dismissively.
My heart goes from a mile a minute to feeling as if it has stopped altogether.
He thinks I’m weak-willed and probably going to let him go any minute.
Well, guess what? I have the stamina of a racehorse.
I take on gym bros every damn day, and half the comment sections on my videos are full of steroid-guzzling gym junkies telling me how I should improve my form.
I can handle an arrogant gangster who has nothing better to do than take a nap.
So I channel my inner bitch. I brought him here for a reason. He wants to be patient? Well, guess what? I can play that game, too.
“I'll tell you what, we’ll talk about it when you’re less tired.” I push my fingers out in front of me to inspect my nail polish. I should really redo these before my next video. “There’s enough food and water for a few days. Your bucket is over there.” I point to the corner of the room.
He turns his head and eyes me. For a split second, concern flashes in his eyes.
That is until the length of his gaze rolls down my chest and to the tight leggings clinging to my legs.
I temper my body’s reaction to his assessment.
It’s not like he hasn’t seen me in tight clothing before.
It’s practically a uniform. His eyes linger on my thighs.
Oh...he’s a leg man for sure. Good to know.
It has been feeling a little hot in here.
It might be time to get out the shorts to make him a little more amenable.
I walk up the stairs calmly, swaying my hips confidently since the poor guy deserves a treat after being tied up in a basement.
When I reach the door, I wait for a moment, but I hear nothing .
I close it, lock the door, apply the dead bolt, attach the padlock, and then I run to the bathroom, sink to my knees, and throw up.