She narrowed her eyes. “What about him?”
“He’s clearly dangerous.”
Cecilia sat completely upright. Alarmed by the turn in conversation, she exclaimed, “Not tome.Felix would probably jump in front of a train for me — and I haven’t even officially met the guy. But he’d do it for Dahlia, no questions asked. Good gods, the man keeps trying to give me a new apartment and sometimes even money when he thinks I won’t notice. He’s not a threat!”
“You’re arrant,” Sloane replied, claws stilling their restless motion. “Everyone is a threat to you.”
“Newsflash, champ, but of the two of you, I’m pretty sureyou’rethe one with the higher body count. So if anyone’s a threat to me, it’s you.” Cecilia gestured wildly toward the room, her gaze roving around the bare gray walls. “When Felix kidnapped Dahlia, at least he didn’t throw her in a cell!”
She half-expected him to deny it, or at least play theI’m your protectorcard again, but he didn’t. Instead, Sloane rose up from the floor. His shoulders were stiff and his arms held perfectly straight by his sides when he announced, “Correct. I am the bigger predator. That’s why you need me. There’s no one more qualified to keep you safe.”
He turned away from her. In that lifeless robotic voice, he finished, “I’d burn this territory to the ground for you, Cece.”
Heart racing, Cecilia watched him move toward the door with wide eyes. “Where are you going? Are you locking me in again? Wait?—”
“You’re cold,” he said, back to her. “You require more appropriate clothing. I’ll return shortly.”
Before she could argue — or worse, beg her captor to stay — he slipped out of the room. Cecilia fell back onto her butt with a shaky exhale.
“Damn it,” she hissed, dropping her head into her hands. “I really hope it doesn’t take him as long as it did to get the milk.”
CHAPTER
TEN
He was gone just long enoughto give her ample time to think.
Cecilia sat gingerly on the edge of the large bed, her tailbone smarting after so much time on the hard floor. Lost in thought, she stared blankly at the crisply folded corner of the sheets. Even after she’d spent gods only knew how long sleeping on top of them, they still looked like they’d been folded with a laser level and secured with a staple gun.
Her toes curled in the ridiculous pink shag rug. It wasn’t identical to the one she had beneath her bed in her apartment, but it was close. The toothbrush she found in the attached bathroom, however,wasthe exact same color and brand she used.
Objectively, that was a bad sign.
Even Cecilia, who loved the sweet taste of danger on her tongue, couldn’t be okay with the series of events that had led her to this concrete bunker. Sloane, her phantom protector, had become her kidnapper. He was also a down-bad stalker.
Bad, bad combo you’ve got there, champ.
She’dknownshe was being stalked, of course, but there was something romantic about having a protective shadow making sure she got home all right after work or peeking through herwindow when she took her top off. Confronted with the reality of having a dangerous man watching her every move, however, was a different beast.
But Cecilia was a practical sort of optimist. Growing up in a home held together by nothing more than appearances, there’d yet to be a situation she couldn’t turn around with a little elbow grease and sunny delusion.
Every bad situation had its benefits. She just had to figure out what they were and exploit them.
Sloane is obsessed with me,she thought, lips twisting from one side to the other.Obviously, that’s unhealthy. But I’d probably be dead if he wasn’t, so let’s call it a wash.
As scary as he was, she didn’t get the feeling that he wanted to hurt her. That didn’t mean he wouldn’t, but it seemed less likely that she’d end up dumped in an unmarked grave, so she’d take it. And going by the way he kept jumping to get things for her, Sloane appeared desperate to please her. She could use that.
Obsession meant he liked her. Liking her meant he’d want her approval. Wanting her approval meant he’d try to get her what she wanted, up until those wants crossed an invisible line. If she could find that line, she could gradually push it further and further back, opening up more chances to escape.
As part of her extensive post-graduate education to become a teacher, Cecilia had taken several psychology and behavioral courses. She’d once spent an entire semester learning the best ways to communicate and defuse conflict. At the time, she’d found that particular class mostly asinine and condescending, but the lessons rushed back to her as she tried to puzzle out the best way to deal with her captor.
Separate yourself from the conflict. Hear what they’re saying. Confirm what was communicated. Clearly state your position without blame. Suggest possible solutions and request feedback. Rinse, repeat.
Cecilia lifted her head to look at the door. She couldn’t hear him out there, but she swore she could sense him. Her heart rate picked up whenever he got close. Goosebumps prickled her arms and legs not from the cool temperature but from an elemental sort of awareness. When the locks disengaged, it wasn’t fear that made her body flush from head to toe.
She held her breath as the door opened, letting in a shaft of sunlight. It vanished almost as soon as it appeared.
Sloane slipped into the room, his large body swathed in black. His shoulders alone could’ve eclipsed the sun.
