“We’ll drop it back off at the restaurant,” Soren comments as we walk up to my door. A thought comes to me.
“Don’t they have cameras?” I ask. Which would mean Soren is shit out of luck. They’d see him getting in Thomas' car, as well as chasing me around.
“No. Thomas liked that restaurant because they don’t have cameras in the parking lot,” he says. I stop walking. For the first time, it really sinks in that Soren might have saved me from something terrible. I never thought I’d be happy a killer kidnapped me from my date. Too bad Thanksgiving is over. I could have shared that I was grateful for murder.
5
SOPHIE
We get to Soren’s house in the middle of the night. One foot drags in front of the other as I climb the stairs from his driveway to his front door.
It’s dark, and I’m beyond exhausted. I hardly care about anything other than I’m currently safe, and he’s promised there’s an actual bed and not a hole in the ground where I put the lotion on my skin.
“There’s too many stairs,” I groan, my boots shuffling up the wooden planks.
“There’s an elevator in the garage,” he shares far too late.
“Useful information five minutes ago.”
“I hope you like the place,” he says.
“Does it matter?”
Soren’s not out of breath at all despite carrying my large duffle bag over his shoulder in one hand and a suitcase in the other as we ascend.
“Why wouldn’t it matter?” He asks in confusion. “Shouldn’t you like the place you live?” We get to the front porch, and he sets my suitcase down.
“Soren,” I sigh. “You do realize how abnormal this all is, right?
“Still,” he mumbles, opening the front door and waving me in. I walk into a dark house. My eyes are drawn to the back wall, which is filled with floor-to-ceiling windows. For the briefest moment, I see his back deck and the rolling Appalachia beyond.
He flicks a light on, and the sight is lost in window glare. This place is huge.
“You said you had a cabin,” I say. This is a lodge. I assumed he meant something small, hidden away in the woods. Not a mansion inside the ski resort. I walk past the foyer and into the living room. The ceiling is two stories high, and the windows stretch all the way up. I spy a banister with a second-floor balcony that looks down on the living room. To the right is a sprawling kitchen, the lights all off. There are large counters and dark wood.
“Your room’s up here,” he says. I look back in the foyer just in time to see him disappear up a flight of stairs tucked beside the front door. I follow Soren, finding a twisting flight of oak stairs to the second floor.
He’s waiting at the top to lead me to my new room. A queen-sized bed sits in the middle of a decently sized room. The walls have tapestries hung up. There's white shag rugs under the furniture. Soren sets my bags on the bed.
“I’ll hire someone to pack the rest of your things.”
“Right,” I mumble, peeking into the attached bathroom. There’s a clawfoot tub with a chandelier above it. If posh rustic is a thing, then that’s this bathroom.
“Sophie,” he calls me back to the bedroom. Soren’s standing in the bedroom doorway. His hand is on the doorknob. I stiffen. The rules are about to come, along with a locked door.
“Yes?”
“Tomorrow morning, we’ll submit our marriage license.”
“Fine,” I sigh. I march over to the bed and run my hand over the forest-green duvet. There are gold designs of deer and twisting branches.
“I’m not going to lock you inside your room. This isn’t kidnapping.” I stop petting the blanket and look up at him. “If you really want to go, then you can. However, I’m going to sleep.” His hand drops from the doorknob, leaving the door wide open. I hear the stairs creak as he goes down them. I rush out and lean over the balcony, catching him walking through the living room. He moves to the left, where a closed door is tucked opposite the kitchen.
“You can’t do that,” I rush out. He looks up at me.
“Youwantto be locked in?” Soren asks in confusion.
“Of course not.”
