Chapter 17
POV: Gabrielle?
I couldn’t fall back asleep that night—not for two whole hours.
He was incorrigible.
He was a fucking asshole.
He was literally certifiably mentally ill.
But there was also something about him that seemed…
Exciting?
Attractive?
Familiar?
Must be all the serial killer shows I’ve watched, I’m sure they all share the same qualities with Dane, if not more.
Eventually, I fell asleep, and woke up again at almost 11 am.
I blinked and opened my eyes then noticed a tray of breakfast sitting there, probably cold. Dane must have snuck back in when I was sleeping.
I ate my cold breakfast in silence then decided to occupy myself by showering since I figured Dane was still probably planning on ignoring me.
But at least I won this one and it affected him.
Oh, I knew that I had gotten to him SO bad.
Last night he looked so close to…snapping.
Yet, he still reigned himself in.
By the time the clock struck 3:00 pm, his voice finally came through the camera. “Get dressed for dinner. I’ll come to collect you in an hour.”
“Collect?” I scoffed, but that was so like him to say something so…strange, yet so real at the same time. Collect. Like I was a collector’s edition figurine to keep.
Dane didn’t offer a response.
I wanted to chuck everything in the room at the camera after his behavior last night but decided against it.
Because I’ll do him one better.
I’ll make myself look so attractive and tempting that maybe, just maybe I’d get him to crack again.
I dressed in one of the red dresses he lined my dresser drawers with—it was fine satin, shiny, cherry red, and fit like a glove.
He’d die when he’d see me in this. I lined my lips with cherry red lipstick, lined my eyes with black eyeliner, and my feet with a strappy pair of heels.
Maybe I could even use the heel to stab him in the eye, who knows.
But as I stood at the door, waiting for him to come to ’collect me’, I felt a flutter in the bottom of my stomach.
I was nervous.
Why the fuck was I nervous?
I closed my eyes and heaved in a deep breath. But it did nothing to calm me. If anything it only made me more nervous.
Because I was anticipating his arrival. I could still feel his hand on my throat and his dark eyes watching me, and the intensity in his voice.
I wanted to see him.
That was the sick truth. I was looking forward to seeing him and to angering him to the point that he might touch me again.
I’m screwed.
I’m just as mentally fucked up as he is.
As I blinked my eyes back opened, the door unlocked and he stood in the entranceway with an unwavering gaze.
His dark hair was slicked back and his lips were curled in that smug smirk he always had. He was wearing a chocolate brown collared shirt that hugged every inch of him and exemplified every muscle. His black dress pants also hugged his bulge. I quickly drew my gaze back up to his eyes.
And as I did, I noticed his gaze was fixated on me. He was preoccupied, tracing my figure with his eyes, slowly, as if he wanted me to notice.
I rolled my eyes dramatically and walked towards him, holding out my wrists for him to handcuff me.
He cocked an eyebrow. “Submissive for once, I see?”
“Don’t get used to it.”
“I would never,” he laughed, locking my wrists and leading me towards the table.
The table was lined with a deep red tablecloth and a low lit candle in the center of it. The plates of food were already set out. Lobster. Shrimp Alfredo. Asparagus. A side salad. Plastic cups of wine.
He unlocked one of my cuffs to the chair then strolled back to his seat.
I stared down at the plate. “Is this your weird way of apologizing? Cooking Lobster?”
Silence.
But then I looked up and found his gaze locked on mine, sharp and unyielding.
He took one swift step, relocating his table setting to the seat directly next to mine.
“What—what are you doing?” I asked, nervously.
But he simply held my stare, unblinking and steady.
“Why are you sitting next to me, Dane? Is this one of your new torture ideas?”
“I didn’t realize that me being near you was considered torture,” he smirked.
I shook my head and looked down at my plate, forking a piece of shrimp and a noodle into my mouth.
He reached out for his cup, lifting his plastic wine glass to his lips and causing my hand to involuntarily shake.
Then he drank his wine slowly. “Shaky, are we? I’m glad my proximity does something to you after all.”
But I just kept eating my food. I wouldn’t entertain him.
“Belle,” he began, putting his wine cup down and running his thumb over my wrist, causing my body to jolt in the chair. “This doesn’t have to be so difficult.”
“Yes it does,” I said suddenly. “I shouldn’t feel—” I stopped myself before I could admit it.
That I had feelings for him. That I was as fucked up as he was. That I couldn’t stop thinking about what it would feel like to have him make love to me.
“Feel?” he cocked an eyebrow, as a wide smile spread on his face. “We’re finally getting somewhere,” he said with satisfaction. “Tell me how you feel, Belle.”
“I don’t feel anything—not like that—not for you,” I quickly recovered, turning my gaze away from him.
But he surprised me by lifting my chin back to eye level. And somehow the coolness of his skin made me feel grounded.
For a moment we sat in our comfortable silence, staring at each other, wondering who would break eye contact first.
I finally broke the trance, glancing downwards and swatting his hand away from me. “Don’t touch me.”
He shrugged, but his eyes told another story. “Fine. As you wish, princess.”
We finished dinner in silence before he led me back to my room.
But before he closed my door, he looked at me again with that devilish grin and said, “I’d like it if you put on another show tonight.”
“Fuck off, Dane!” I yelled, taking my heel off and tossing it at the door.
“Or,” he said, his large body swallowing the doorway, taking up the whole of it. “If you want me to come back later, I’d be happy to offer you a real cock to cum on.”
“Oh, you wish! Go jerk off and think of me, sicko!” I tossed the other heel at the wall and stomped off to the bathroom.
He locked the door and left.
But there was a part of me—a small, tiny part of me that thought about taking him up on his offer.