Chapter Ten
Olivia
“L isten, if you focused a little more on listening to your body, you’d understand that it’s not all about lifting. You’ve got to be more in tune with yourself. Yoga or pilates is a great way to do that. It’s the focused breathing.”
I watch his eyes roll under his eyelids, and despite my attempt to stifle a laugh, a small giggle escapes me when he mutters, “Focused fucking breathing,” under his breath.
After last night, I’ve decided a little bit of exercise would be a good idea to defuse some of the growing tension between us.
I anticipated this situation would be difficult, but I hadn’t predicted how my body would respond to his presence.
I can tell he is starting to feel cooped up and uncomfortable, regardless of what he says about the eight-hour sleep and good food.
We haven’t spoken about last night, but it has been playing on a loop in my brain since then.
I can’t believe that in a few short days, I’ve gone from grabbing his dick to encouraging him to squeeze my throat and letting him trail kisses down my neck.
I allow my eyes to close as I remember the way he felt in my palm, hard and ready.
Knowing I have such an effect on him makes my lower belly throb—another pair of panties soaked.
I just know he could make my body submit to him if he chooses to.
But after last night and the neck kisses, which were honestly heavenly, he said the ball was in my court.
So far, he’s stayed true to his word. Despite lingering looks, deep sighs, and the occasional arm flex, which I’m sure he is doing on purpose, everything has been very PG-13 this morning.
“Close your eyes,” I encourage.
“This would help if I didn’t have chains under my back.”
“Oh...sorry, I forgot about that. There’s not really much I can do apart from what I’ve already done.”
He now has just one long chain around his waist which pretty much gives him more range. He still can’t reach anything to use as a weapon, though. He can’t reach the window or the stairs. But there is more give, and it means we can do these classes together.
“It’s fine, Killer. Show me your moves.”
We finish up our class, and I give him space to wash himself and change into fresh clothes.
After lunch we sit in amiable silence, both of us reading our respective novels.
I know in my heart that he isn’t the man I thought he was at Squeeze the Day. And even though he won’t release Danny from his contract or whatever it is that keeps him there, I can’t keep him here forever.
I worry about what might happen if I let him go, but ultimately, I don’t think he will hurt me.
Maybe that’s dumb and naive, but I think.
..I think he actually likes me. No one could fake this well.
He’s calm, assuring, caring...flirtatious, but not too much.
It’s clear there’s a dark side to him, but he hasn’t given me reason to fear it.
“Austin . . . ”
“Mhm?” he replies, engrossed in his book.
I swallow hard. “We should talk about what we’re doing here.”
“Well, Helena is about to get ravaged by a wolf that’s been stalking her.
..I can only imagine he’s going to shift back into human form and turn into Lance, the guy she’s been crushing on.
There will be some form of trivial argument about deception, invasion of privacy, blah blah blah, and then we’ll get to the good stuff.
” Not quite where I thought this was going to go.
But he’d been rushing through our yoga today so he could get back to reading.
“That being . . .”
“Oh, I forgot you’ve never had good sex, Killer.” He winks. “But pay attention to these books. I've even learned a thing or two.”
“Like how to shift into a wolf?”
“The big, bad wolf, baby.” He winks again, and my heart somersaults.
Yep, he’s definitely flirting. And his admission of learning something from the books he’s been reading is surprising.
I’ve never met a man who admits to having something to learn, especially not from what they find to be a silly romance novel.
That’s what Travis used to call them. Unrealistic standards for men, set by women.
But I can’t understand how someone being devoted to their partner and making their body sing from orgasms is unrealistic—or unreasonable. The wolf shifter bit, I can understand.
I bite my lip, my heart thudding like the Jaws theme tune, steady at first and then altogether speeding into ominous territory where I’m likely to get eaten. It’s a wonder he can’t hear it.
Maybe he can because he suddenly looks up.
“What’s going on, Olivia?” he asks, turning his book over onto the mattress and giving me his full attention.
God, I love it when he uses my name. It’s always soft and understanding; it tells me he’s ready to listen. He calls me Killer when he’s flirting or playful, which makes my lower belly surge with heat. But Olivia is something special. He enunciates all four syllables like he’s tasting them.
“I . . . I think we need to discuss the future. You can’t stay here indefinitely and . . .”
“What day is it? I’ve lost track,” he interrupts .
“Umm . . . it’s Wednesday now.”
“I’ve been here since Friday. Five days total.” He lifts his head and counts using his fingers. It’s oddly endearing.
“Yes.”
“I’m free for two more days.”
What the fuck is he talking about?
“Austin. I don’t think you understand. I’m talking about letting you go...now.” I let a big breath out. I’m actually going to let him go. I think I’m going to miss him. Christ, what is wrong with me? I thought Stockholm syndrome was the other way around.
“And I have until Friday. So think about it. I’m in no rush.”
He’s gone mad. I might need to drop him off at the hospital.
“Austin...I think maybe you’ve got this thing. I read up on it. It’s called Stockholm syndrome. You kind of end up liking your captor. It’s actually super unhealthy, and you should really go and talk to someone about that when you get out.”
His face transforms, his smile stretching like it’s being pulled by his ears. His grin turns to laughter; his laughter turns to silent gasps of him clutching his stomach.
This is it. He’s a goner.
I can’t be responsible for him.
I can deal with my brother’s psycho boss. I can’t deal with a genuinely unwell person. Especially when I’ve chained him up in my basement for nearly a week, and now he’s lost it.
He rights himself, swiping at a glisten of tears in the corner of his eyes.
Oh god, I’ve made him lose his mind. Is this worse than killing someone? Will a jury give me the death penalty? No...I think they got rid of it in Washington a few years ago. Okay, I have to google that later. Can the police see what you search for in incognito mode?
“I should go and leave you to calm down.”
The Jaws theme tune is gone, replaced with some high- pitched violins screeching like I’m running away from the murderer in a slasher movie.
My breathing is getting erratic. What the hell am I doing?
I’ve abducted someone, held them hostage, acted like they’re not really a hostage, and then offered to let them go.
I’ve gone so back and forth I’m like one of those awful shake rides at the fair.
No wonder he’s losing it. He doesn’t know what’s up or down anymore.
I head to the stairs, running two at a time. I need a contingency plan. I have to think.
“Olivia, wait...Let me explain,” he calls out, panic replacing his humor in 2.2 seconds. More evidence that he really has lost all sense of reality.
Ignoring him, I run out the door and swing it shut.
The gravity of what I’ve done is finally hitting me square in the chest. There is no one I can turn to.
Not a friend who would back me up, no parents, and I certainly can’t go to Danny.
Austin will think he was involved. No. Best to keep him out of this.
Nausea runs through me, and before I can think, I run to the bathroom quickly and vomit up my breakfast. My hands shake, my skin has a cool sweat clinging to it, and I feel awful.
I know what I need to do. I have to face the consequences and just hope and pray for a miracle that the man in my basement really isn’t the awful bastard I thought he was.
Because if he is, I’m as good as dead.
I give myself twenty minutes to panic. Then I eat some crackers and down some water.
After brushing my teeth and washing my face, I feel a little better.
All I need to do is go down there, unchain him, and then hope that I don’t get murdered.
Should I drive him into town? Call a cab?
I suppose if I do get murdered, I won’t have to worry about the logistics of him getting back home.
I stare at my face in the small bathroom mirror. I look surprisingly fresh. My skin is plump, and my hair is smooth and silky. Having him here has done wonders for me. Selfishly, I wonder what it would be like to keep him around. I know...I know I can’t. Obviously.
But he’s not the horrible beast I thought he was; at least, I’m ninety-nine percent sure. He could be someone I could actually fall for. If he weren’t holding my brother hostage, that is.
I tie my hair back and run my hands down my black-on-black leggings and crop top. It’s practically a uniform, but far from the usual bright colors I wear. Today is all business. Or a funeral. We’ll see.
I step out of the bathroom and somberly walk down the stairs. Rounding the corner, I reach for the basement door, but see it’s open. The door is a hair-width ajar, and I can hear a voice that doesn’t belong to Austin.
I hold my breath, desperately trying not to make a sound as I strain to hear the hushed voices.
“I told you, I’m handling it. I’ll be back by Friday.” That’s Austin.
“Boss, I can handle this right now. What are you doing? Playing with your food?”
In a low growl I hear Austin spit back, ”Say that again, Luca.”