I wake up alone in an unfamiliar blue room full of books, with the feeling something momentous has changed. Possibly, me. I think Sebastian changed me at a cellular level when he made me come yesterday. My body feels like there’s liquid glitter swooshing through, pumped by my heart.
I didn’t know it could be like that.
Really, legitimately, I should be afraid. Instead I feel like I’m in Beauty and the Beast. This is a bedroom made for me, and this whole place is enchanted. When I find an open suitcase full of clothes in my size, the feeling only heightens.
Swiftly followed with irritation.
There’s no magic here. Just Sebastian Laurent.
The bastard planned this? He happens to have clothing exactly to my tastes, that fit perfectly?
All these clothes are perfect colours, flattering styles. More luxurious than I could afford for myself, but how did he know from one blurry photo that I like blue dresses? He needs to explain what’s going on, stat. Yes, I liked the orgasm, yes, I slept well in his arms. But none of that means anything when it seems he schemed to capture me.
I drag on the first clothes I find in the case: white underwear, a pair of jeans, and a pretty cotton top.
It takes me finding four bedrooms, an office, a movie room, a snug, two lounges, and a library until I eventually discover Sebastian in a gym with a swimming pool. He’s on the treadmill, sweat gleaming on his tanned skin, earbuds in, and top off.
I stare. And stare.
His body is… And it makes mine…
I know that some men look fit, in an abstract way. I’ve seen films, and peeked at the internet once or twice. But I had no idea seeing a man in real life would be like an earthquake in my nether regions. I saw him last night, but not like this. A brief snapshot of his chest before it was covered is not the same thing as his back on display, all rippling muscles and shoulders I want to cling to as he… My imagination can’t supply the details, and my experience definitely is insufficient.
What would it be like to touch his back? Yes, he’s sweaty, but—and I know this sounds deranged—I want to lick him. I’ve gone gooey inside just from looking at him, what if he took that powerful body and held it above me, trapped me under him…
“Jeanette?”
My chin snaps up. He’s looking over his shoulder at me, amusement curling his lips. Slowing the treadmill, he grabs a towel to mop up—I have to swallow the urge to ask if he needs help with that—and then tugs a T-shirt on before coming to stand before me.
“You okay?”
I’m certain there was a reason I came to find him. I’m pretty sure before I melted, I was pissed off at him.
Like really annoyed.
“Glad the clothes fit,” he comments when more seconds pass and my brain is still stuck on how physically beautiful he is.
Yes! That was it! The pique flows back.
“You had clothes ready. You planned this. What the fuck, Sebastian? Why did you plan to kidnap me?”
“I didn’t intend to kidnap you.” And he’s such a damn good liar, he sounds sincere.
“Truth, Mr Laurent. Or do your bargains mean nothing to you? In which case…” I turn to find an exit. Or at least a window I can… not be able to throw myself out of.
“No.” He grabs my wrist and this time I instinctively twist and stomp down on his foot as I aim the heel of my hand at his nose. He catches my arm millimetres from impact and I grunt with rage as I try to knee him in the balls, but he dodges.
“Better.” He smiles and it’s all the way up to his eyes. “You would have hurt anyone else.”
“I wanted to hurt you. Because despite what you said, you are the one who has kidnapped me.”
He’s still holding my arms and again, I shouldn’t like the feel of him, but apparently my limbs have not moved on from seeing him half naked and sweaty.
“Are you always this grumpy before you’ve had coffee?” He releases me and steps away before I can do anything violent with those free weights in the corner. Though, I doubt I’d be able to even lift most of them.
“Come on. Coffee first, then explanations.”
I follow him into the kitchen and grit my teeth as he takes forever to make, admittedly delicious-smelling coffee.
“So.” He leans against the counter and I peer over the coffee mug at him from my place on the other side. Adversaries. “You weren’t supposed to come here.”
“You have another location for your kidnappees.” I’m not jealous. I’m not.
“Will you let me finish, angel?” A touch of exasperation threads his words.
I drink my coffee sulkily.
“You won’t be safe until Fletcher is dead, and even then, I think your father would claim you back. All those years away, with a new name, were supposed to protect you. Make you unrecognisable.”
I shrug. “I am.”
“You might have been if you were on the street. But then your boss got famous…” He makes a fait accompli gesture.
“I did that,” I admit.
“Impressive.” He nods. “And foolish.”
“I didn’t know it would get me into the limelight! And so what if it did? It’s been a long time.”
“Hey,” he says soothingly. “I said I’m impressed. But that reflection of you in the mirror? Something like it was going to happen. Eventually.”
I may be a little touchy about this. Being told most of your life that you’re a silly girl will do that. “I guess.”
“I had a safe house prepared for you. I intended to give you a place to go, before you were eighteen. But…” He folds his arms. “I got a bit carried away, enjoying your company, and didn’t explain until it was too close to midnight to do anything less than swiftly. And you weren’t as cooperative as I’d hoped.”
“I might have been more understanding if you’d explained better,” I snap.
“Yes.”
And I have to give him credit, he accepts his portion of the blame with grace. Though the reality is, we were both distracted by how well we were getting on and the attraction that clicked into place.
“Then the safe house had been compromised. I couldn’t send you there. I didn’t plan to kidnap you, just give you somewhere secure until I could fix the threat.”
“You’ve had five years!”
“No, I’ve had one day.”
The photo showing me in the mirror. It was yesterday.
Darn it. He’s right.
“Before that my plan was to let you live your life and just keep an eye out for any trouble. I knew your father and Fletcher wanted to get you, but they had no idea where you were before that goat video.”
“Capricorn,” I mutter.
“Yes, that one. I did try to murder your whole family and Fletcher before your birthday, but the idea turned out to have some logistical problems that would take a little longer,” he says neutrally, as though he was discussing ordering pizza for dinner. “Hence…”
“The kidnap.”
“The plan to get you away from danger,” he corrects gently.
A normal person would be at least slightly horrified by the concept of a man murdering people to protect her… Apparently I’m not as normal as I thought. Because although I’d rather people didn’t die, the plain way Sebastian says that he’d do terrible things to defend me makes my skin warm. He’s massive and deadly and scary and he is ruthlessly using his power to care for me.
“Felt a lot like abduction,” I grumble. I probably need more coffee.
“I’ll bear that feedback in mind for another time.” Amusement lights his eyes into silver.
I scowl. “You’re making a habit of stealing women.” I do not like the thought of him taking anyone else. I am… Envious of his hypothetical victims.
Now he’s outright smiling. “Only you. And I’ll treat you very well.”
“Feed me?” Because I haven’t eaten since dinner last night and after everything that’s happened, I’m ravenous.
“I’ll make you breakfast, angel.” He turns his attention to pulling ingredients from the fridge and a couple of minutes later places a cup of tea at my elbow.
“What are you cooking?” That isn’t the question I want an answer to, but I’m too scared of rejection to ask why he was content to give me an orgasm last night then continue as though nothing has happened.
“My speciality, full English breakfast.”
“That’s your speciality?” It seems too simple for him somehow, but the warmth of the steaming mug of tea in my hands is comforting. A paradox, like him.
“Uh huh. I’ll tell you a secret.”
“You’ll tell me all your secrets, you promised.” Including why he didn’t take the opportunity to have sex with me last night in bed, or for me to return the favour at least.
“Yep. But you wouldn’t know to ask for this one. Breakfast is the only meal I know how to cook. That’s why it’s my speciality.”
I watch him work in silence. He says he can’t cook, but he’s as in control in the kitchen as he is anywhere else. Like his hands have dexterity and knowledge whether he’s playing my body like an instrument, killing a man who threatened me in cold blood, or slicing tomatoes with a gleaming blade. He gives a sharp “no” when I ask if I can help.
The smell is divine. By the time he places food before me, my mouth is watering from the oily tang of bacon and stuffy-sweet carbohydrates.
“That is enormous. It’s enough food for a week.” Fried eggs, sausage, bacon, mushrooms, tomatoes, baked beans and a hash brown cover the plate. There’s toast on the side and he replaces my mug of tea with a new one.
“Need to keep your energy up.”
“So I can escape?” I bite into a piece of hot butter-covered toast and almost moan at how good it is.
“For our lessons.” There’s a flickering emotion in his eyes so brief I can’t read it. “We have the whole day for me to teach you to defend yourself.”
His plate has twice as much food as mine, but he eats it with steady, measured focus.
“And answer all my questions.” I think about that question. Why doesn’t he want to touch me again? I’m his prisoner. He could do whatever he wanted.
“I’ll always answer for you, angel.”
I’m not brave enough to ask, so I slide into the easier—easier?!—topic of why I’m his captive.
“If you’re here, do I take that to mean you’re not currently disposing of… the leaders of Carter and Fletcher.” I can’t quite bring myself to say, my father and ex-husband.
“Plans are being put in place.” He’s finished his food and sits back to watch me.
“Oh.” So I’m not stuck here forever. That’s… Good, right?
“Why? Do you want me to spare their lives?”
I think of how little I meant to any of them. But I surely should be better…
“They don’t deserve your compassion, angel. You’re not the only girl they have hurt.”
“But…”
“If you’d prefer them to live, I’ll see what can be arranged.” He says it like it would be a concession. Like unless I intervene they’re as good as chopped meat.
“I can decide?” Another gift. Or another favour? It’s a little thrill to have the power of life or death over those who once held it over me, and chose to sell me off. I don’t know what to do with the sensation. It’s wrong, and yet… Like everything with Sebastian, it’s right. He hands over the control to me, even though I’m his prisoner.
He tilts his head. “Yes. But I’ll want something from you in return.”
