Page 35 of Tied

Chapter 17

Riley

I never thought that my level of hunger could serve as a timekeeper for me. But it’s the only thing I have left, the only indicator of time passing, as the growling in my empty stomach grows louder and more painful.

It feels like my craving for food has been growing exponentially ever since Cain left the room—taking my only chance for a meal with him. I already felt the pinch of hunger when that disgusting thug brought me the sandwich, but it was bearable then, and strongly overshadowed by other emotions. I was scared, confused, angry, and desperate for answers and a way to get out of here. My hunger merely played the role of a secondary character in that mess.

That has changed now. I don’t know how much time has passed, but I’m feeling more and more lightheaded every time I get up from the bed and drag myself into the small bathroom that’s connected to my cell. Water from the bathroom faucet is the only thing I’ve been ingesting, and since I don’t have anything to collect the water in, I have to sip it from my cupped hands. It makes drinking in large swigs impossible, and I can only quench my thirst for a short time before I feel the urge to drink again.

At least, it’s something to do. My sad little routine of wandering back and forth between the bed and the water faucet keeps me busy and on the move when all I really want to do is sleep and wake up from this nightmare.

I do pass out in between, but it’s never for long, I’m sure. I’m not tired. My body doesn’t need rest, but it needs food. Desperately.

I lick my lower lip as I sit on the bed cross-legged and wrapped in the duvet. It’s becoming hard to focus and keep my thoughts straight because all I can think of is food—or the lack thereof.

I know why he’s doing this. I know he’s trying to break my spirit by starving me like this. It’s no different than the stupid good cop-bad cop routine he played out earlier. I’m sure he told the guy to attack and scare me like this. It’s all part of his fucked up plan. He told that guy to touch me, to intimidate me, and to come close to me like that just so he could sweep in like my knight in shining armor and save me.

It was all orchestrated to break me, and that’s what hurts the most. Cain doesn’t care that these men have seen me naked, and he doesn’t care that one of them came close to touching me in a way no man ever should without invitation. He doesn’t care about any of that because he doesn’t care about me.

But he needs me. I’m the only person he knows who can help him carry out that deceitful plan.

And I should use it to my advantage. Instead of dwelling on the fact that the man who turned my world upside down a few months ago has turned out to be a fucking psychopath, I should focus on how I can use my worth to him to my advantage. Despite being his captive, and despite his threat regarding my sister, I still feel like I have some leverage here—as long as he keeps thinking that I am, in fact, irreplaceable when it comes to this task.

“Use this.”

My low voice travels across the room in a hiss that barely sounds human.

He wants to break me, but I won’t give him that satisfaction.

“Use this,” I repeat, louder this time.

I won’t be on my knees when he comes back, promising I’ll do everything he asks of me if he’d just please give me something to eat—and promise to leave my sister alone and let me go once all of this is done.

Relying on this promise is a huge risk. Because how could I ever trust his word? That’s right, I can’t.

I need a guarantee, something way more solid than a verbal promise. But how do I get that from him?

“A lie,” I voice the first thought that pops up in my head. “I will have to lie.”

There really isn’t anything I could blackmail him with, especially since I know pretty much nothing about him. And what little I do know may not even be true.

His name? His job? Both lies.

The story about his parents’ death? Could be true, but it could also be a sob story to soften me to his demands. I need him to tell me more about that, and I need to identify inconsistencies in his story.

I nod with determination. Yes, that’s what I’ll do first when he comes back. I’ll make him talk, and then...

My decisive thoughts are cut off when I hear a noise coming from the door. Instinctively tightening the duvet around my naked body, my eyes scurry over to the turning lock.

The door opens only a bit at first, not enough for me to see who is about to join me, but after a moment, it swings open and Cain walks in. He’s wearing blue jeans and a black turtleneck sweater that hugs his broad arms and shoulders a little too tightly, making him look like an out-of-this-world handsome intellectual who spends all of his free time at the gym. I remember his chiseled physique all too well and can’t help the hot flare that his presence still ignites deep within my core.

For God’s sake, why does he have to be this attractive? Why am I still drawn to him after all he’s doing to me? I don’t want this. I want to hate him.

I need to hate him.

He regards me with a stern expression on his face—and he’s holding a basket in his hand. It’s a cute, red-checkered picnic basket, with a small bottle of what looks to be red wine peeking through at the side.

He has got to be kidding.

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