Chapter 27
POV: Gabrielle?
That night, Dane brought me into his personal library.
He was beginning to trust me. And dare I say…I was beginning to trust him, too.
I should have feared this—him, and the reality of the entire situation. But the truth was, I didn’t. And here I was trying to convince myself, as I watched him look over a book.
His hands didn’t look as callous as they usually did, not while he was holding a leather bound book, instead they looked almost…gentle.
And his jawline—well it didn’t look as punishing as it usually did, instead of appearing sharp and unforgiving it looked…softer.
He looked…softer.
I watched him, studying his slight movements.
The way he turned the page with the corner of his index finger instead of his thumb, almost tenderly moving the page aside.
The way his long limbs looked relaxed instead of tense for once.
The way his mouth moved, slowly reciting the words off the page to himself.
Then without warning, he looked up, catching me in the act.
My face went red, immediately flushing with a heat that I could not hide.
“Studying me now?” he cocked an eyebrow, before getting to his feet and meeting me across the room in five long strides.
“You just look…seem..different now,” I said, laughing nervously.
“How so?” His thumb ran down the edge of my jawline, lingering on it for a long moment before dropping his arm back down to his side.
“Well, not so ‘kidnapper-y’,” I joked.
He laughed. “What does kidnapper-y even look like, Belle?”
I shrugged. “Not like this. Not like you, right now.”
He cocked an eyebrow. “I guess that’s good then?”
I nodded, thinking. “You’re complicated. This…is complicated.”
“It doesn’t have to be,” he said, simply. And there was a lightness to his tone, as if it actually could be just like he said, uncomplicated.
“But that’s not reality.”
“No, it isn’t,” he said, realizing the weight of the words.
His brow furrowed as he turned away from me.
I stared at his side profile, chewing on my lip, watching the way his expression changed.
He turned towards me again, our gazes meeting and said, “You need to see something.”
Quickly, he turned back towards his desk and began rifling through the desk drawer, pulling out a thick leather locked briefcase. He held his eye up to it, using a retina scan to access the case, and pulled out a thick manila folder and handed it to me.
I stared down at the unopened folder for a moment, my heart beating wildly in my chest as I thought of what was in the contents of the folder.
With shaky hands, I opened the folder, glancing at the first piece of paper inside.
And after I finished reading the document, my jaw dropped open. With shaky hands I set the folder down onto the desk and plopped down into the chair.
“So…the drug really works? It actually alters your memory permanently—erasing everything from a specific period?”
He nodded, as if it was just another question to him.
“So…if—when you erase me, I’ll remember nothing?” I questioned.
He hesitated this time, looking me over before slowly nodding again.
The words came out in a rush. “And you’ll do it? You’ll erase me?”
Why did I fear him erasing me? Why was my heart beating as loudly as it was? Was my pulse quickening? Why did I even care? I was a kidnapping victim for God’s sakes.
There was a long moment of silence between the two of us before he parted his lips and said, “Do you want me to, Belle?”
The question hit me like a ton of bricks.
It was loaded.
Because I didn’t have an answer for that—at least not one I wanted to say out loud.
“I don’t want to wipe you, Belle,” he said finally after a long period of silence.
And that only made my heart beat quicken.
Everything felt heavy—my head, my hands, my heart.
He smirked. “And I think you want that, too.”
I didn’t respond, instead I just stayed impossibly still—staring at him, trying to decide if I wanted that too. If I wanted to stay here with him.
My body wanted to. Believe me, it did. Because in truth, we were good for each other physically. Every time he touched me, I felt sparks. Every time he kissed me, I felt euphoria. Every time he fucked me, I felt unimaginable pleasure.
But my mind, well my brain, it was conflicted.
Because it knew that this wasn’t normal, falling for your kidnapper and then building a life with him.
I hadn’t completely decided what I wanted…yet.
I was going back and forth with it for days, hours, minutes.
But everytime he made my pulse quicken or my heart beat faster or me wetten…I thought about what it would be like to stay…here with him.
“It’s your choice, Gabrielle. It’s always been. And it always will be,” he said.
I let out a deep breath, reflecting on his statement.
My choice. Always.
Well, what if I didn’t know what I wanted?
I pressed my eyes closed—shutting out Dane and trying to shut out my own thoughts but it was useless.
I felt like I was in a tiny box, and I had claustrophobia, and I couldn’t breathe.
“I need to go,” I said, turning on my feet towards the door.
Dane grabbed for my hand, trying to stop me in place.
But I pulled my hand away from his grip. “Let me go, Dane.”
His grip slackened slowly as his arm dropped back down to his side and he watched me walk away.
I knew better than to look back.