Chapter 12
POV: Dane
I knew she wasn’t convinced about our compatibility yet, but her barriers were coming down slowly and that was a win on its own.
She was beginning to trust me, not in the traditional sense but still, trust was trust regardless.
So far she had passed every single one of my tests and hadn’t broken once. She was strong. She was a fighter. Our attraction level was off the charts. As well as our emotional capability.
All the data pointed to it….she was the one.
The only concern left was the matter of choice. I refused to deprive her of it. I hadn’t gotten this far with a woman before, none had passed more than two of my tests, so we never got to the point of choosing a life with me or re-releasing them into their old life. But she had.
She was the only one who passed more than two tests—exactly five of my tests to be exact.
I needed to bond with her. I needed to break down more barriers. I needed to convince her that a life with me would be enjoyable.
At dinner tonight, I’d get to know her more, try to comfort her, ask her questions, and be her friend.
I clicked the talk button on the camera and leaned in, “Belle, wear something nice tonight.”
She paused her tv and shot the camera a glare. “Now you want me to play dress up like I’m some barbie doll?”
I chuckled. That damned girl. That mouth on her. “If you will, sweetheart.”
She narrowed her eyes as if that would change anything.
“Thank you, Belle. I’ll come to get you for dinner in 30 minutes.”
Then I got to my feet and headed off to my room.
I took a long hot shower, slicked back my hair with hair clay, put on a long sleeve black button up shirt, rolled the sleeves to my forearms then slipped on a pair of expensive black dress slacks and black leather dress shoes.
I glanced at myself in the mirror, I’d seen the way that Belle looked at me, and I knew she wouldn’t be able to look away this time.
When I unlocked the door to her room and glanced around, she wasn’t in my sightline. “Belle!” I called out, stepping inside and closing the door behind me, waiting for her to run at me with a toothbrush or something.
But instead, she stepped out of the bathroom, wearing the same pair of heels she wore on our date that night and an emerald green colored dress that accentuated her cleavage and cut off right below her knees. She put on makeup too, mascara and pink colored lipstick.
My gaze drug across her body slowly—taking in her curves, her muscular calves, and smooth cream colored skin.
“Is this why you kidnapped me?” she said, twirling around in a circle like a beauty pageant contestant. “So I can play dress up for you, Dane?”
I smirked. There’s my girl.
I held out the cuffs.
“Really? Cuffs? I thought we were supposed to have a romantic dinner.” She tried to bat her big blue eyes at me.
I didn’t budge.
“Once a kidnapper, always a kidnapper,” she sighed, letting me cuff her and lead her down the hallway.
I unlocked one cuff, cuffing her to her chair as always then walked off to the kitchen.
I could feel her eyes on me, checking me out, ogling me and it felt good having her want me.
I set down a plastic cup of red wine then a plastic plate full of chicken limone, mashed potatoes and carrots in front of her.
She didn’t waste time drinking the wine. She slurped down the glass in one long sip. “Another pour, please.”
I cocked an eyebrow. “Is someone planning to get drunk tonight?”
She shrugged, “why not? There’s nothing else to do here.”
I leaned in as I poured the wine, allowing my forearm to graze her arm and sent her a wink.
“Ew, not that,” she shuddered, though her body gave her away. Goosebumps littered on her skin.
“Suit yourself, barbie.” I drank my wine and watched her as I did.
After she drank another cup of wine, she insisted on a third refill and in between forking bites of chicken, potato, and carrot in her mouth, she finished her third glass.
“Someone’s thirsty,” I replied, finishing my plate of food.
“Like I said, there’s nothing to do here,” she gave me a look, as she held out her cup again for another glass.
“You’re going to get drunk, Belle.”
“I’m sure you’ll like me better that way,” she motioned to her cup.
I poured her another glass with watchful eyes. “Don’t blame me for your hangover.”
“Where did you learn to cook like this?”
I was taken back by her question. “My mother.”
“Your mother?” she asked in surprise.
“Even kidnappers have mothers, Belle.”
She laughed a loud genuine laugh as she watched me from across the table intently. “You don’t seem like a bad guy.”
“I’m not.”
“Then make me understand why you do this. For control? For companionship?”
I leaned forward, tracing my gaze over her slowly. “Like I said, testing is the only way to make certain I find the perfect match.”
She didn’t blink. “But even then you could be wrong.”
“Not likely. Analytics don’t lie.”
She let out a breath and shrugged. “It just seems like there’s more to you than this whole kidnapper thing you have going on.”
My jaw ticked. “There is more to me, Belle, as I know there’s more to you then this whole, angry, sassy journalist act.”
“Maybe.”
“I know so.”
“Have you thought about it?” she asked suddenly.
“Thought about what?”
“About what it would be like to kiss me?” she said slowly, batting her long eyelashes.
“You’re drunk.”
“And you’re not.”
“Exactly,” I said. “I’m not going to kiss you when you’re drunk.”
“Oh sorry, Mr. Kidnapper is all high and mighty about consent, I forgot,” she laughed, her words slurring.
“We should get you to bed,” I walked towards her, unlatching the cuff then twisting it in my grip.
She got to her feet, wobbly legs and all and leaned into me and god, I wanted to kiss her right then and there but I knew better not to. This was probably part of her escape plan, who knows.
I led her back to her room and she pressed her chin further into my chest and looked up at me with those wide blue eyes again, batting eyelashes and all.
My lips were so close to hers. Dangerously close.
Before I could stop it and before I could pull away from her, she tiptoed up and pressed her lips into mine.
And the kiss almost broke me.
Her lips were soft and pillow-like. The sensation caused my knees to buckle.
This was not part of my plan.
I quickly tore my lips from hers and looked at her with a bewildered stare, but she only smiled, like she was the victor. “I guess that’s what it feels like to kiss you. Now I know.”
I unlatched the cuff and she stumbled into the room, bending over, propping her hand onto the dresser for stability and almost making me lose all my self control right then and there. She undid the straps of her heels and kicked them to the floor.
“I’m not going to get undressed with you standing there,” she said. “Unless you’re a pervert, too.”
I didn’t smile, instead I just stared at her with a stiff gaze before slowly closing the door behind me. I pressed my back into the door and closed my eyes.
I almost lost control—almost.
The more time I spent with her, the more I realized that Gabrielle Morton was my endgame, and I would make certain that I was hers.