Page 20 of The Villain's Captive (The Villain's Duet 1)

“You really are a fucking psychopath, you know that?”

He shrugged. “I won’t argue that.”

“What do you want?”

With a single step, he moved out of the shadow into the light, and for a moment I looked at a man. Not a kidnapper or a stalker. But a man soaked in magnetism, making it impossible to look away. This fleeting thought sneaked into my mind, making me wonder why a man like him would be interested in a woman like me. Being a coldhearted kidnapper aside, he was beautiful. Attractive. The epitome of perfection that allowed him the luxury of having his pick of women. Yet I was the woman he dedicated years of his life to.

Watching me. Studying me.

A borderline obsession.

Why me?

He stepped between me and the bed, and I glanced at the clothes. Fuck. If I wanted to grab some pants, I’d have to get past him. Sly bastard.

He placed his hands in his black pants pockets. “I want you to play for me.”

“What? The cello?”

“Yes.”

“I can’t play when someone’s watching me.”

He smirked. “Yet you’ve played with me watching you for years.”

“I didn’t know. Stalker, remember?”

“Observer,” he countered, his gaze burning into mine. “What is it about playing in front of people that scares you?”

I bit my lip and looked down. “I don’t know.”

“Are you afraid people will judge you, criticize your talent?”

“That’s part of it.”

“What’s the other part?”

“I’m not sure if this is an appropriate conversation to have with my kidnapper,” I glanced down at my legs, “especially not when I’m half naked.”

He arched a brow. “You’re wearing a blouse.”

“I consider that being half naked.”

His eyes narrowed, and he rubbed the stubble beard on his chin—the action drawing my attention to his muscular, veiny hand. Judging by how perfect it was, flawless yet muscular, he wasn’t in the profession that required any type of hard labor. I was momentarily reminded of how it felt to have his hand on my breast, igniting that unwelcome blend of fear and fire.

“I’ll make you a deal.” He tossed the heap of clothing around and pulled out a full-length nightgown, easing the silk fabric through his fingers—a simple movement, yet somehow he made it seem…sensual. “I’ll give you this if you tell me the other part.”

I cleared my throat, glaring at him, hoping he’d see in my eyes just how much of a bastard I thought he was. “Why do you want to know?”

“Tell me.”

“First tell me why you want to know.”

“Are you sure you’re in a position to negotiate with your kidnapper?”

I squared my shoulders. “What do I have to lose?”

An amused grin curved at the corners of his mouth, and he took a single step toward me, instantly robbing me of air. “How about because you’re half naked and I’m fucking dying to feel you up again?” His hot gaze dropped to my breasts and back up, his liquid cognac eyes swirling with a thousand immoral intentions, as if he hoped I’d give him a reason to do it. That I’d challenge him. What scared me the most was how it spoke to that dark part inside me, the part that stirred to life when he touched me.

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