Page 14 of Stolen Bride for the Don

“Wouldn’t I?” he murmurs, rubbing his thumb up and down my wrist. Tingles shoot down my spine. I snatch my arm out of his grasp and take a few steps away from him.

“I’m listening.”

“First, you’re going to eat.” He nods at the food on the bedside table. My stomach growls in anticipation. “See? You’re starving. While this little protest of yours is admirable, it’s not sustainable.”

He’s right, of course. I had already been thinking about how I could give in without seeming like a weak-minded woman. I’ve never gone this long without food in my life; I feel like I might pass out. To be rational, I need to keep my strength up if there’s any possibility of an escape.

I glare at him as I make my way to the bed. I try to caution myself, but, fuck, I’m so hungry that I practically inhale the French toast and eggs. I start to slow down when I get to the fruit. And oh my God, the pie. It takes everything in me not to moan at its sheer decadence, melting over my tongue.

When there’s not a single scrap of food left on the plates, I unscrew the lid of the bottled water and take a long drink. I let out a sigh of contentment as I pick up the smoothie. My stomach is already filled to bursting, but the smoothie looks so inviting that I can’t resist taking a sip. Yup, it’s incredible too, nothing like not eating for a few days to make a girl really appreciate a meal. I glance up to see Hudson staring at me intently, a fascinated gleam in his eyes.

My cheeks heat as I blush, a little embarrassed at how fast the food disappeared, but he seems more pleased than anything.

“You’re so beautiful.” He starts to lean toward me but thinks better of it and takes a step back instead. “Are you ready to talk?”

“Excuse me,” I whisper, covering my mouth with my hand as I burp quietly and as lady-like as humanly possible…while not missing the smirk that crosses his face. The asshole sure makes it hard to enjoy myself; the look of satisfaction washing over his features is enough to make the food in my stomach turn sour. He wins this round, and he sure as shit knows it too. “I’m ready now.” Even as I speak, I yawn loudly. I had a long night, sleeping in fits and spurts, waking up at random hours from hunger pangs. Now that the hunger is satisfied, I’m overcome with exhaustion.

“Did you not get enough sleep last night? Plotting my murder?” Hudson teases but his gaze stays sharp.

“You better sleep with one eye open. You just might wake up with a knife at your throat. Or buried in your chest if you’re not fast enough,” I deadpan, and he fucking chuckles. He’s so arrogant that it makes me sick. I’m just a toy for him to see how far he can push me before I snap. He might think I’m harmless, but I wasn’t kidding. Not really. If I get a chance to escape again, that won’t compromise Ezra’s safety, I’ll grab it. I don’t care whose blood is on my hands because of it.

I yawn again as he turns away from me and starts walking. “Where are you going?” I call after him.

“Take a short nap. I’ll be back,” he stammers as he shuts the door behind him and locks it. I slide to my side of my bed–not that I know where Hudson likes to sleep. My eyes close easily, and I succumb to the need to sleep.

* * *

My eyes snap open, my heart pounding fiercely. A pair of green eyes meets mine, and I shoot up on the bed. Hudson has shifted the armchair in front of the fireplace to face the bed; he’s lounging on it like a king on his throne as he watches me.

“You look so innocent when you sleep.”

“How long have you been watching me, you creep?” I ask as I rub the sleep from my eyes.

“A while,” he answers cryptically. “Do you feel well rested now?”

“Hmm-hmm.” I cover my mouth as I yawn.

“Good. Now, what did you do to my closet?” he asks easily enough but there’s a fire in his eyes that warns me to tread carefully. I frown as I try to remember what he’s talking about. His closet? I…ohhhh…his closet!

I raise my chin, refusing to be cowed. “I simply helped you rearrange some stuff that needed rearranging.”

“You mean after pawing through my clothes, you decided to mess up the neatly arranged items?” he growls.

“You shouldn’t have left me in here unsupervised if you’re neurotic about things like that. One thing you should know about me is that I’m a snooper.”

He stands up, his muscles rippling like a caged animal as he runs a hand through his dark hair. “It’s one thing to snoop through people’s things. It’s another entirely to purposely destroy the arrangement!”

Whoa, he’s becoming agitated. I swallow, starting to feel bad but I shake my head. Snap out of it, Andrea, he kidnapped you!

“You made me mad,” I tell him, and his head snaps to mine. There’s something feral in there. He inhales sharply like he’s trying to get control of himself, a muscle jumping in his forehead.

“Don’t touch my things again,” he growls. I nod in response. My acquiescence seems to calm him, and he sits back down.

“If I don’t touch your things, what am I supposed to wear?” I have no intention of ever disrupting his clothes again, but I can’t wear the same thing every day. I need to change.

He walks to the closet. I remain on the bed, and he glances back at me impatiently. He demands with a wave of his hand, “Come.”

“You’ve been calling me pet for so long that you actually think I am one now,” I bark. “I’m not an animal who will roll over or do whatever you want just because you say so.”

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