Chapter 19
POV: Dane
That morning I decided to treat her to breakfast at an actual table for once.
I knew she’d probably act like she usually did—full of resistance, and get creative and spew a slew of insults at me either way.
But I wanted to look her in the eyes this morning—see the depth beneath them, see the woman beneath them, see the struggle beneath them.
When I went to fetch her from her room, she rolled her eyes but held out her wrists without protest, letting herself be cuffed. We walked to the table in silence. I was surprised that she didn’t decide to hit or kick me when I cuffed her to the chair. Instead, she just sat there, silent.
I set her breakfast in front of her—pancakes with chocolate chips, a bowl of cut fruit, sausage links and scrambled eggs and toast and studied her with curious eyes.
She paused, staring at the plate for a long moment before finally picking up her fork and digging in.
I watched her as she ate. She practically inhaled every bit, without so much as a glance up at me.
Complicated. My most complicated test subject yet.
One moment, I thought she was softening, slowly warming to the idea of a life with me. Then, in the blink of an eye, she’d do a complete 180, leaving me second guessing even my own judgments.
She glanced up at me with narrowed eyes after forking another sausage link into her mouth and said, “Why do you really do this?”
I cocked an eyebrow, waiting for her to elaborate.
She stared at me blankly before speaking, “why do you really do this? The kidnapping? The tests?”
My jaw ticked but I held my body from flinching. “I think you already know the answer to your question, Belle.”
Her lips twitched slightly, never fully forming a smirk or a scowl. “Not entirely.”
“True,” I replied, leaning forward, pressing my elbows into the table and studying her.
She didn’t so much as flinch. She just stared back at me. Smart, calculated, controlled.
“Well, I’d like to hear more,” she said, simply.
I smirked, cocking a brow and laughing. “I’m sure you would, Belle.”
Her jaw tensed as her hand clenched the plastic fork tighter then tore her gaze away from mine. “Whatever, Dane.”
A deep chuckle left my lips. “There’s no real way to know if you’re truly compatible with someone until you’ve seen them at their absolute worst.”
Halfway through, she lifted her eyes to mine, curiosity flickering across her face.
I continued, “This is the only way, Belle.” I paused, studying her face, watching every feature of her face tense as I spoke. “The only way I’ll truly know is if she proves to be the best choice.”
She scoffed, as if it was an insult. “You make it sound like you’re just buying groceries—choosing between products. That finding a life partner is reduced to a trivial errand.”
“In a way,” I smirked, purposefully trying to anger her.
And it worked.
She rolled her eyes, her lips twisting into an angry pout.
“Joking, Belle,” I paused. “But with tests, isolation, and fear, you learn who someone really is. You’re able to see their weaknesses and their strengths. You’re able to truly see the person behind the facade. You’re able to determine everything you want to see after a certain period of time.
Sometimes it’s minutes, hours, days. With you, I think I have a few more layers to peel away before I truly see who you are.”
Her eyes narrowed on me. “And you think this establishes a healthy relationship? Do you really believe this helps form love?”
I laughed, the sound vibrating from my core and startling her.
I leaned forward again and said, “Love is something unexplainable. It’s almost a fairytale. You’re old enough to know that, Belle.”
She rolled her eyes again. “So you’re a kidnapper that’s looking for your soulmate and you don’t believe in love?”
I shrugged. “Exactly.”
She scoffed. “You’re even more fucked up then I originally believed.”
I laughed but my gaze never wavered.
She knew she was playing a dangerous game.
She knew it wasn’t safe.
But she still played it, anyway.
The quiet was broken only by the soft tapping of my fingers against the polished wood of the expensive table. “I never said I didn’t believe in love, Belle,” I murmured, letting the words hang in the still air.
And it did just as I intended. It made her squirm.
I continued, “I’m rational enough to believe that love isn’t instant. It’s earned. It’s crafted. It’s perfect. And that’s why these tests are essential. They show me everything I need to see.”
She bit her lip, lost in thought, her eyes narrowing slightly. “So, what, you’re looking for somebody who doesn’t fear you? Who understands you?”
She got it.
She actually did.
My expression shifted, and I was certain she caught the flicker of surprise that spread across my face.
“That’s it, isn’t it? You’re looking for somebody who will love you despite your fucked up tendencies? Despite your sickness?” she scoffed, turning away from me.
Every inch of my body tensed. “You say it like it’s a bad thing—like you don’t have that same sickness in your head.”
“I don’t,” she said defensively.
But we both knew that she did.
She liked when I touched her. She liked taunting me. She liked playing the game I created. She liked…me. And even though it sickened her, she couldn’t stop.
“Well, I hope you figure out everything you need to know about me soon,” she said suddenly.
“Then let’s get you back to your room,” I said, getting to my feet, uncuffing her and tugging her to her feet.
The walk back was silent.
But the test proved fruitful.
As I removed her cuffs and slowly closed the door—I caught her staring at me. She didn’t look enraged any longer, just confused.
Because she knew that the truth was undeniable, though she refused to admit it—we were two halves of one whole.