The room is beautiful thanks to Anya's touch, clearly. The bed has white linens and deep blue pillows. There's a small Christmas tree in the corner, already lit. Through the windows, I can see the lights of the town below and the snow still falling softly.
The door closes. Locks automatically.
Jemma turns on me immediately, her back to the twinkling tree lights.
"I did it. I played along. I smiled at your family. I lied to everyone." Her voice is shaking. "Are you happy?"
"You did well."
"Don't patronize me!" She presses her hands to her face. "Your mother hugged me. She called me beautiful. That little girl asked if I wanted to see her dollhouse and I had to smile and pretend everything was fine when—when—"
"When what?"
"When you KIDNAPPED ME!" Her voice breaks. "I'm standing in a house full of criminals pretending to be your girlfriend because you drugged me and brought me here against my will!"
"Yes."
"That's all you have to say? Yes?"
"What do you want me to say?" I move toward her. She backs up. "That I'm sorry? I'm not. That I'll let you go? I won't. Not for five days."
She's backed up to the bed now. Nowhere left to go. "What happens now?"
"Now?" I cage her in, hands on either side of her head. "Now you sleep in my bed."
Her breath catches. "No."
"Yes."
"I won't—"
"You will." I lean in close enough to feel her breath on my face. "Do you know what I can smell right now, Jemma?"
"Stop."
"Fear. You're terrified. Your pulse is racing. Your hands are shaking." I inhale slowly. "But I can also smell arousal."
Her face flames red. "That's not—"
"It is." My hand slides down to her throat to feel her pulse. "You're scared. But you're also wet. Your body knows what your mind won't admit yet."
"Which is?"
"That you want this."
"I don't—"
"You read books about men like me. Dangerous men. Obsessive men. Men who take what they want." I lean in until my mouth is by her ear. "And then you touch yourself thinking about them. About what it would be like if a man like that wanted you."
She's trembling. "How do you know that?"
"Because I've been watching you for eleven months. Because I know what books you read. Because I've seen the way you look at me in the coffee shop—like you're scared and fascinated and turned on all at once."
"Stop."
"Why? It's true." I pull back to look at her. "I kidnapped you. Drugged you. Brought you to a house full of criminals. Made you lie to my family. And you are so fucking wet right now you can barely stand it."
She slaps me.
