“You don’t want me?” He asks.
“Of course, I want you,” I hiss, astonishing myself. I’m playing along, I belatedly remind myself.
“So then, you agree to my terms? No cops, no FBI. You will need to marry me.”
“Do I have to do that part?” I grumble.
“That part is not negotiable. As well as moving in,” he adds.
“This is kidnapping with more steps,” I sigh. He holds me against him, waiting for my answer. “I accept.”
“Fantastic,” he says with a wide smile, pulling me in for a shocking hug. Oh god, he plans to start seducing me right now. I push on his chest and dart my eyes around. My entire body is hot despite the cold weather.
“Please don’t start your end of the dealhere.”
“That wouldn’t be very practical. Don’t you want to record it?”
“Record it?” I wheeze.
“I assume that’s how you’d prefer to do it.”
“Why on earth would I record you fucking me?” I ask. Soren goes completely still before he peels me off his chest and holds me at arm's length. He stares at me in astonishment.
“I meant you could interview and study me. Since you were a researcher on psychopathy and killers. I googled you.” My hand flies to my mouth as if covering the offensive body part will make the previous words disappear.
“Oh,” I mumble behind my fingers. “I see.” He looks confused. I’ve made a killer look uncomfortable. Who knew I was this awkward? Certainly not me.
“What…” he starts. I can see the entire conversation replaying in his head. I’m sure he’s snagging on the same parts as I am. “You said you wanted me.”
There’s a brief moment where I consider gaslighting him. But apparently, as a couples therapist, I can’t make myself.
“Can I wait in the car?” I groan.
“With the corpse?” He raises an eyebrow.
“Easier company. Or maybe you can reconsider killing me.” I want to dive off a cliff.
“You?” He asks in shock, as if the idea never once entered his mind. I shoot him a look, and he wipes the surprise off his face. He looks a little bashful.
“I considered all options, but I wouldn’t.”
“Oh? Why not?” I ask.
“Trying to interview already? Sorry, doctor, save all your questions for after the wedding.” He boops my nose and then drags me back to the car.
“Wait here. I’ll give you a ride home. I know where it is, so don’t worry about that.” He closes the door, and I’m left sitting there with that vague threat hanging over my head.Not stalking me, my ass.
He buys two Christmas trees. One to wrap the corpse up with and one for his home.
“Our home,” he insists. The drive to my apartment is quiet, minus the sounds of jingling bells on the radio. By the timeBaby, It’s Cold Outsidecomes on, he’s parked and got out of the car.
“Let’s pack together,” he insists, dragging me from the car. I wonder if I’ll ever get to be alone again.
“This is kidnapping,” I mumble, rooting around for my keys. I find them under the smashed brie. When I pull them out, they’re sticky.
“This isn’t kidnapping. We’re getting married.”
“God,” I sigh. “What about the car?” I look behind us at Thomas’ sedan.
