Page 253 of His To Erase
“I didn’t pick that one for no reason,” he adds, looking me up and down, smiling like some pervert. “It’s my favorite.”
I snort, because there’s no way I’m keeping my mouth shut through this bullshit.
“Are you always this desperate to see a woman in lingerie, or is that just why you had to buy one?”
He laughs like he’s delighted I’m still fighting and he enjoys it more this way, but I see the twitch in his eye.
“Oh, sweetheart. I didn’t buy you for your sass.” He pauses for a beat. “But it’s a fun bonus. For now.”
He steps forward causing me to step back. His voice drops as he closes the distance.
“Careful,” he murmurs. “I’d hate to restrain you again so soon.”
I smile. “Try it.”
For a moment, his expression cracks. Then he laughs. “You always were feisty.”
He walks over to the table near the window as someone brings in a tray. He lifts the silver dome and reveals a steak, some mashed potatoes, and champagne.
I haven’t eaten in… well, all day, and suddenly feel lightheaded. Apparently being abducted, threatened, and handed a drawer full of crotchless lace takes more energy than I remembered.
My stomach growls loud enough to echo, and I roll my eyes, because of course my body would betray me right now.Really?
I eye the food suspiciously. It smells incredible, which only pisses me off more. He would make the meal a five-star plate while the room feels like a coffin with designer throw pillows.
“You thought of everything,” I mutter, crossing my arms. “All that’s missing is a tiara and a cyanide pill.”
I look over and he’s smug as usual, like he didn’t orchestrate a whole goddamn hostage fantasy and cast himself as both captor and romantic lead.
I scowl. “I thought you said we were leaving.”
He tilts his head slightly, and the look he gives me sends shivers down my spine. He looks like he’s about to snap.
“I changed my mind,” he says. “New plans.”
“That fast, huh?” I raise an eyebrow. “So what—you’re just gonna keep me here? Feed me? Dress me up like a sex doll until I forget what it smells like outside?”
His smile tightens a little more. “Dramatic much?”
“Delusional much?” I take a step forward, dropping my voice. “You don’t get to just play house, Frank. You don’t get to slapme around, lock me up, and then change your mind like we’re rescheduling a lunch date.”
He’s still for a beat too long, then he throws his head back and laughs.
“You’re right,” he says, crossing to the table and setting down the silver lid with theatrical calm.
I blink.Wait—what? I am?
“I don’t get to touch you. Or choose for you. Or make you mine.” He lifts the champagne flute, holding it out like he’s about to make a toast. “I already did.”
I’m going to fucking kill him. I stare at the glass like it might explode, then I look at the food again.
I’m so fucking hungry I could cry, but what if it’s poisoned? What if this is the test—wait me out, starve me down until I’m desperate enough to eat whatever they hand me… and it kills me. I hate that he thinks he’s winning, and right now, with the way my stomach is growling, he is.
Fuck it.
I walk toward the table, picking up the knife, and slide into the seat like I’m the one in charge. I slowly cut the steak, never breaking eye contact. He watches me with a pleased look on his face, and yup, I still want to throat punch him. But I want to survive more.
“Don’t get comfortable,” I say before taking a bite.
