Page 77 of Hot for Hostage

“Oh, um, no. I’m not a pastry chef.”Not yet, I added silently. But the way he worded that rubbed me the wrong way.Thewedding? “I’m sorry, what wedding are you referring to?”

The predatory smile he flashed made him look more sharklike than human. “Why, Davian’s, of course.”

It didn’t click at first, and I stared at Davian’s father like he’d spoken a foreign language. I had to repeat the words in my head before they made any sense. Then the cupcake in my hand tumbled to the floor, and my heart dropped into my stomach like a stone.

A pastry chef for Davian’s wedding.

Davian’swedding.

…Davian was gettingmarried?

Oh, heck no.

the m-word

. . .

Sadie

Sadie’s Guide toHostage-TakingBeing Taken HostageForming a Partnership with Your HostageEmbracing the Hostage LifestyleNot Freaking Out, Tip #20: No matter how talented his tongue is, do NOT fall for your hostage.

I tried my best not to jump to conclusions or freak out.

I failed miserably.

A whole flurry of emotions surged, and I was torn between denial and a sting of betrayal that made me dizzy.

Not that Davian’s father gave me much time to process the bomb he’d just dropped.

“That must make you the mistress I heard about,” he continued, cocking his head to the side as that single eye scrutinized me again. “I wasn’t expecting pink hair. That’s… colorful.”

I almost threw up.Mistress?

Oh god.

“I’m not a mistress,” I corrected him, clenching my hands into fists to hide their shaking.

I couldn’t be. Davian would’ve told me if he was already involved with someone. He would’ve mentioned he was freaking engaged.

… Wouldn’t he?

Unless that was the real reason for not wanting me to meet his father. I couldn’t think of a single reason you would introduce a mistress to your family.

But there were plenty of reasons to hide one.

My stomach heaved involuntarily, and I placed a hand over it. This couldn’t be happening.

Mr. Reed’s brows rose. “Unless I’ve been misinformed? …But my son didn’t meet me at the door like he usually does, and I somehow doubt baking gives the kind of glow you’re sporting.”

The innuendo made my cheeks uncomfortably hot. Sebastian Reed’s manners rivaled those of the teenage thugs.

I schooled my face into what I hoped was an expressionless mask—but felt more like a pained grimace—determined to keep my cool. The last thing I needed was to lose it on Davian’s father. Gladys and Ryan had warned me what he was capable of, and even Davian said he was dangerous.

“You have been misinformed, actually, because Davian’s not getting married,” I told him as calmly but firmly as possible.

He wasn’t.

I refused to believe it.

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