Does it matter? Would I think worse of him?
What has me so freaked out is that I don’t think badly of Patrick at all. I’m still a bit frightened around him, but I think I would be with anyone after the way my father has treated me. Plus, Patrick is a tall, muscular man who looks like he could do a lot of damage to a person if he wanted. Which, for some reason, I find really hot.
“Yes.” He doesn’t look even the slightest bit remorseful about it.
“Did you want to kill my father?”
Patrick and the other two guys had guns with them, but was it more of a scare tactic?
“When he brought you into that room, I’ve never wanted to kill someone so badly in my life.”
Heat blooms between my legs. Is this what it feels like to be turned on? Like all I want in the world is for him to touch me right now. I move my other foot, sliding it under his wrist so we have more contact. He smiles and continues stroking my skin.
“Why didn’t you?”
“A couple of reasons.” He leans back against the cushions and rolls his head to the side to look at me. “The main one is you. I never want you to see something like that. I also knew that the only way to safely get you out of that house was to agree not to kill him in exchange for you. I’m a man of my word. I won’t kill him because of the debt.”
“You say it like you plan to do it, though,” I say softly.
He stays silent for a few seconds, then looks me right in the eyes. “I’m not planning on it, Anastasia. I’m going to do it. You belong to me now. He hurt something that is mine. I don’t tolerate that.”
Whoa.
Every time he calls me by my full name, it does something to me. I’m starting to feel like a ball that’s being wound tighter and tighter, but in a very delicious way.
“Will you ever let me go?” I whisper. I don’t breathe as I wait for his answer.
“Do you want me to let you go, Anastasia?”
We stare at each other. I open my mouth andthen close it again.What do I want?I’ve never been asked that before. Even though I don’t know Patrick very well, I think he’s a good man and would let me go if I say yes. Maybe I have Stockholm syndrome. I’m going to justify it by the fact that he did kind of save me from a terrible life. So it’s probably okay that I like him.
“No.” The word comes out so quietly that I barely hear it, but he does.
“Good girl. That is your answer, Anastasia. No. I will never let you go.”
A shiver runs through me from head to toe. I’m not sure what I just did, but for some reason, I’m not so afraid anymore.
What is that pounding?
Ugh.
It’s like someone is hitting me over the head repeatedly.
And then, everything starts spinning and I leap from my bed to run to the bathroom. I barely crash to my knees when I start vomiting into the toilet. Over and over, I heave. My head throbs, and the throwing up only makes it more painful.
“Fuck. Ana.”
A warm body squats behind me and pulls my hair back. It’s his scent that brings me to reality again. Patrick. He’s in here. While I’m throwing up.
“Get out!” I cry, trying to push him away.
“No. I’m not leaving you.”
He reaches in front of me and flushes the toilet, then rises and turns on the faucet. A moment later, he presses a cool washcloth to my forehead, and it’s heaven.
“I’m going to chew her ass out for getting you so drunk,” he murmurs.
It takes a second to realize he’s talking about Helen. I sit back on my feet and frown. Patrick must have turned on the lightswhen he came in, but he’s dimmed them so it’s not too bright. “Don’t be mad at her. She’s my friend.”
