Page 41 of Oh No, My Kidnapper Is Hot!

We reach steps, and I look up to see the bright pink door of Archie’s house. Stryker doesn’t let me down when he knocks, choosing to use his foot to bang on it. I scowl. He’s going to scuff it.

The door swings open to reveal Archie, and I gape.

He’s wearing a tuxedo, and shiny silver cufflinks twinkle at me as he takes my hand. His hair is slicked back, not a strand out of place when he bends over to kiss it. “Good evening, fair Millie!”

Stryker makes a low, growly noise. I feel the rumble of it against my shoulder. Archie beams at him. “And Stryker! An esteemed guest, to be sure!” He bows. Actually bows, so deep his head almost touches his pristinely shined shoes before he pops back up and ushers us into the house. “Quickly now! We don’t want to keep the other guests waiting. They may have need of their host!”

Stryker follows Archie, not setting me down despite my vehement requests that he would.

We follow a hallway to its end, turn left, go down another hallway, up a set of stairs, down a different set, then open a door that leads to an elaborate dining room.

I see Rosie first, then Heidi, Baz, and Sal. None of their outfits reach anywhere near the grandeur of Archie’s, I’mrelieved to find. My lounge set doesn’t stand out one bit among the comfortable clothes of everybody else. They turn and stare at us.

“Let me down,” I hiss at Stryker, pinching his side. He listens, finally, setting me on my feet with a dissatisfied grumble. My eyes roll.

“It’s not like you could’ve held me all dinner,” I tell him.

“That’s what you think,” he mutters. Into the denial box with that one.

“Come! Sit!” Archie exclaims, and I’m being pushed into an empty seat. The table in front of me is overflowing with food on silver and gold platters. There’s fruit and cheese, roasted vegetables, steaming bread, two roasted ducks, and more. In the center of the table, held high on an intricately decorated silver stand, is a two tier cake iced in chocolate. It has ribbons of frosting cascading down its sides in graceful swoops, and there are six big poofs of frosting circling the top.

It’s the most glorious thing I’ve ever seen.

“I want that first,” I say, pointing to the confection. I’m in love. Has there ever been anything more wonderful on this earth? I think not.

“No cake until after dinner,” Archie says firmly. I frown.

I hate him. He is the worst villain the world has ever known. Someone must stop him. I look at Stryker, who’s sat down beside me. His face is all amusement. Why? I couldn’t possibly guess, as this is not a joke. I pout.

“He said no cake,” Stryker tells me, also firm.

“You could crush him like a bug!” What’s the point of being a big, hulking muscle man if you don’tusethose big hulking muscles for the greater good? He’s just going to sit by and watch this injustice? Worse, he’s going toendorseit?

“Cake is last. Cake is always last,” Stryker says, unyielding. “It’ll be worth the wait. I promise.”

Hmph. I hate him too. I turn to my other side, where Baz sits, and try out puppy eyes on the silent giant.

“Cake’s last,” he says, not even looking at me. Distressed, I appeal across the table to Rosie. Surely she has some sway here.

“Sorry, love. You must eat your dinner first, then you can have dessert. Be a good girl and have some duck, yes?”

I stare at the cake, dejected. A bead of wetness gathers on my lower lashes. I may even whine. Stryker leans in close, speaking low in my ear, “Yeah, Millie, be a good girl and you can earn somethin’ sweet.”

I squeak, pushing him away. Hedid notjust say that. Absolutely he did not.

The denial box is going to need to be expanded into a denial vault at this point. I need more real estate. Especially if he’s serious about his ridiculous wooing plans. I might even need a whole denial cargo ship. Maybe an island, where I can stack boxes to the sky. I could color-code them. Yellow for sweet things. Blue for thoughtful things. Red for bad things, like what he just said.

I shove it in a red box and file it away.

Time for duck.

Ignoring the amused glances shared around the table – except for Heidi, who offers me a commiserating look – I fill my plate. The faster I eat, the faster I get to the prize.

I start out giving myself the smallest portions possible, but Stryker quickly foils this strategy by dumping extras of everything on my plate. I glower at his hand as he adds double the vegetables I portioned for myself. He coughs a laugh.

I hate him. I really, really hate him.

Once everyone’s plates are full and I’m shoveling in the biggest bite of bread I can fit into my mouth, Archie clears his throat from his place at the head of the table. I give him my full attention, and am caught off guard by the chair he’s sitting in.

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