Chapter 3
POV: Dane?
My questions were all for show.
I knew everything about her before she stepped inside the restaurant this evening.
I knew that she was an only child. I knew that she was from Indiana, a small town with less than 4,000 people as their population, with less than a 1% increase over the last twenty years. I knew her parents still lived in that small town.
I knew her interests, and more than just what her Datetime profile showed.
I knew that she bought one new book every week at the same small, local bookstore.
I knew that she had a membership to a gym, though she only used it on Saturdays at 9:00 am.
I knew that she ordered takeout from the same chinese place down the street from her quaint apartment for the last two years.
I even knew her order. Chow mein. Pork Dumplings.
General Tso chicken. Extra egg rolls. I knew that her middle name was Violet and she hated it.
Within hours, I had seamlessly hacked my way into her life—I was a doctor after all, but not just a doctor but a billionaire with endless means, and with intelligence so high that some would consider it…terrifying.
But when I found something I wanted, I went all out.
I dug so deep into her life—into her digital footprint, by the way, the worst carrier ever is Varion.
It’s basically a criminals digital playground, easy to access, no firewalls, no security, that it only took me a matter of 15 minutes to hack into her home internet server and her cellular server and piece through her life.
I watched her the entire time she walked away from the table. I surveyed the exits. I read her body language. I made sure she didn’t run as soon as she walked away.
But it was clear she hadn’t expected anything, not an inkling of the fact that I had just poured a capsule size of liquid, inconspicuously into her wine glass. Just enough to knock her out for several hours. Enough to make it look like she was sleeping. Enough to kidnap her and start the real fun.
I had already decided that I wanted her when I swiped right. But our conversation during dinner, solidified it entirely, she had edge, enough edge that she wouldn’t do everything I say eagerly but just enough obedience she didn’t actually want to challenge me.
If you let those two vastly different characteristics blend together—you’re bound to find a happy medium. A push and pull. A tether that is just waiting to snap.
And that’s what I was looking for.
Not blind obedience but willing obedience. Obedience that I could mold.
She didn’t feel the effects yet, she couldn’t, not until she finished the glass, and she would.
By the time she made her way back, my eyes were glued on her again—on her face first— always her face first, it let her know that’s the first thing I saw— the first thing I admired.
Then drifted lower—so slowly that she could tell I was inspecting her.
I already knew her tits were real— you could tell with the fake ones, hers looked actually soft and malleable. And her waist was small but not too small. Her legs were muscular. And her height was perfect— small boned and standing without heels and 5’2. The perfect height to get on her knees for me.
I’m getting ahead of myself, I’m not a rapist and I’d never force a woman against her will. Though I’m not above testing limits and seeing if I can break a woman’s own self control.
Usually, when they realized I kidnapped them— they were terrified— they’d beg me, they’d plead, they’d offer themselves, they’d say anything. And I hated that.
The woman I would marry— the mother to my children would never behave in that manner.
Then the choice was simple, drug them with the experimental drug I designed, Zolfe to erase memories and bring them back into the world, thinking they just had a rough hangover.
I spent the better half of my life creating it and perfecting it for the military so by now I could make the drug in my sleep.
But I had a good feeling— a really good feeling about Gabrielle.
She didn’t seem like she’d beg.
She seemed like she’d fight.
Gabrielle sat down, a fresh application of red lipstick on her pouty lips and immediately went for the wine.
Good girl. Drink up.
A long sip then she leaned in, elbows on the table and looked at me, really looked at me. I’ve never had a woman do that.
“So why are you on a dating app, Mr. Doctor?”
I planned for this question. “It’s hard to meet people with my schedule.”
She laughed. She actually laughed at me. “I’m sure there’s many volunteer tributes at your workplace. Which hospital do you work at again?”
“Mercy,” I lied, I planned for that, too.
But she just kept going, her confidence growing with the more wine she sipped, even though her eyelids began to look heavy. “What’s your specialty?”
“Cardiology.”
“Cardiology?”
She had to believe me. They always did.
“If I didn’t know any better then I’d think you were lying.”
“Must be the paranoid journalist in you,” I joked, leaning forward so that I could run my thumb along her hand.
She jolted, almost knocking over her wine by doing so.
Cute and clumsy.
I smirked. “I think you’ve watched too many true crime docs and listened to too many podcasts, Gabrielle.”
She shrugged, trying to regain her confident composure. “Maybe or maybe you are hiding something.”
“You caught me,” I teased, flashing my smile. “I like to kidnap women and bring them back to my place and test them.”
She finished the last gulp of wine.
And her eyes went wide as finally the realization caught up to her.
She finally got a bad feeling.
My sweet, innocent, true-crime loving girl, had finally realized I was more dangerous then I looked.
But now it was too late. Even past too late.
The drug had run its course and she was beginning to feel it.
I set down $300 dollars on the table then placed my hand over hers.
“Darling, are you feeling okay?”
She didn’t respond.
The waiter looked a bit puzzled as her eyes began to close.
“That wine must’ve been strong,” I said, helping her to her feet. She stood well enough on her own without my help but I made a good show of pretending to be the perfect-gentleman. “Keep the change. We had a lovely evening. It was our anniversary.”
And it would be marked as our anniversary for the rest of our lives.
The waiter didn’t even give me a second glance, instead she went off to serve other tables, not minding us.
No one usually suspected an attractive, rich man in an expensive suit as a kidnapper.
Gabrielle walked with ease, her gaze straight ahead, her words slurred. “T—ta—take.”
“Yes I’m taking you home,” I smiled, calmly.
But her eyes only grew. “M-m-y—h—o—me.”
I buckled her into my passenger seat. “Go to sleep, sweet girl. In the morning, you’ll wake up and your life will be much different.”
And that was a promise.
Paralysis, insufficient motor reflexes, tiredness, they were all a side effect of the drug I gave her.
But in the morning she’d wake up and remember everything, and then the real fun would begin.