"One. Just one." I hold her gaze. "I love you. Everything else—the dinner, the deal, all of it—that's noise. That's Marcus and his schemes and my own stupid mistakes. But underneath all of it, there's only one truth that matters."
She shakes her head slowly. "You don't even know what love means."
"Then teach me."
"In seven days? While I'm your hostage?"
"You're not my hostage."
"Then let me leave."
Silence.
She laughs again. "That's what I thought."
She pushes past me, putting distance between us, and I let her go. Let her pace the small room like the caged animal she clearly feels she is.
I watch her take in the details. The kitchenette with its two-burner stove and mini fridge. The bed with its thick quilt and too many pillows. The sofa that's barely big enough for one person to sit comfortably, let alone sleep. The wood-burning stove that provides the only heat. The single window that looks out onto nothing but dark trees.
"There's no internet," she says.
"No.
"No signal up here. No Wi-Fi."
"So I'm just supposed to—what? Sit here and listen to you lie to me for a week?"
“There are all of those book over there. And I have paper and a laptop too, if you want to writer.”
“I'm not in the mood.”
“I want you to give me a chance to explain."
"You had chances. You had a hundred chances to tell me the truth, and you didn't."
"I know."
"So why should I believe anything you say now?"
"Because I'm not letting you leave until you do."
Her eyes flash. "That's not belief. That's coercion."
"Call it whatever you want."
She spins away from me, stalking toward the closet. She yanks it open and freezes. On one side, there are women’s clothes: Leggings, flannel shirts, sweaters, thick socks. Nothing glamorous like the emerald silk currently clinging to her curves. Just comfortable, practical things for a week in the mountains.
"Whose are these?" Her voice is strange. Tight.
"No one's. I had them brought up."
"When?"
"Last week."
She turns to look at me, and I can see the wheels turning behind her eyes. "Last week. Before the dinner. Before any of this happened."
"Yes."
