But when I stared into his dark eyes, I remembered them immediately. Two penetrating pools of dark chocolate that seemed to intensely watch and study my every movement with a calculating gaze.
I realized that my perception of this man was completely the opposite of what I had expected, of what I'd feared.
And now, as I sit beside him at a table big enough for a large family, I can't help but steal glances at him, wondering why I'm here, why he brought me here…and when orifhe'll let me leave.
Lucien seems dignified with manners. He's wearing a white, woven, long-sleeved dress shirt, the sleeves rolled up over his muscular forearms, with a dark green tie that matches the color of my dress.
I study him as he moves his silverware into a perfect line and places a linen napkin neatly on his lap. Everything about him screams precision. Even his dark hair, which is longer on top and shorter on the sides, is swept back off of his handsome face and gelled to perfection with not a single hair out of place.
Glancing around the large, immaculate room with antique furniture in every corner and three crystal chandeliers hanging from the high ceilings, I can't help but wonder how much Lucien actually paid for me. It's very clear that he's rich --- beyond rich. From what I have seen of this place so far, it dwarfs my father's mansion and is nothing short of majestic.
I have no idea what Lucien does for a living or why he needs to kidnap girls, and I'm hoping to find all of that out soon. But every time I try to think of a question to ask him, my throat closes up tight with anxiety. Although Lucien appears like a Greek god on the outside with his chiseled features and handsome face, he strikes me as someone who is powerful and used to getting what he wants.
And he wants me.
We start the first course, a cream soup that smells delicious. Even though my stomach is uneasy, I force myself to pick up my spoon. My hand is trembling as I dip the bowl of the spoon into the soup and slowly bring it to my mouth.
"Am I making you nervous?" His deep voice echoes off the walls in the large room, and I jump, dribbling soup down the side of my mouth and chin.
I hear his intake of breath, and I sit stock-still in my chair, so afraid of his reaction to my mishap that I can't even move. To my surprise, he grabs a linen napkin from the table and begins to wipe the liquid from my face.
Having him in such close proximity throws me into a panic. My breaths are coming out in short gasps as I stare at him, waiting for his next move. Will he hurt me now? I have no idea what his triggers are or what he intends to do with me.
"I didn't mean to frighten you," he whispers as he continues to obsessively clean my face, the napkin now chafing against my delicate skin.
His right eye twitches as my panicked breaths fill the quiet room. His lips move as he murmurs to himself, and I don't think he's even aware that he's doing it.
And then his fingers graze against my lips, and his whole demeanor instantly changes. He snatches his hand back from me as if I'd just burnt him. I watch as he leans forward in his chair, his face contorting with pain. He squeezes his eyes shut as his lips move a million miles a minute.
I stare at him in disbelief and glance around the room, wondering what the hell is happening.
How could this strong, powerful man be reduced to a mumbling, anxiety-stricken mess in the matter of a single touch?
After a few minutes, he grabs a small bottle of hand sanitizer from his pocket and squeezes a copious amount onto his hands, scrubbing and scrubbing until he covers every inch of skin on his hands and wrists.
And then, almost as quickly as the panic attack started, it's all over with. Lucien is able to eventually come back to reality and a somewhat relatively normal and calm state.
When he notices me staring at him with what is probably a shocked and confused look on my face, he tells me in a stern, unforgiving tone to eat.
I stare down at the soup in front of me and will myself to concentrate on it and not the fact that my captor is clearly unstable. His volatility scares me more than anything. He could fly off the handle over the smallest and simplest thing, and it reminds me instantly of my father. I've been walking on eggshells my entire life. And it looks like it won't be any different here.
I manage to get through the first course, thankfully, without spilling another drop.
As a young man emerges from the kitchen to clear our bowls, I wrap my fingers around the stem of the wineglass in front of me. I'm suddenly feeling very parched, and the cold, fruity wine feels good running down my dry throat.
Out of the corner of my eye, I can see that Lucien is staring at me, but I refuse to meet his gaze. He shifts in his chair, watching my every move as I set the glass down and continue to stare at the table, ignoring him until he asks me a simple question.
"What is your name?"
I almost feel relieved by his request. When one of my sisters was kidnapped and held for ransom by an enemy of my father, I befriended a retired FBI agent my father had hired to help get my sister back.
He had told me that if the same thing ever happened to me that I should try to get my captors to see me as a human being instead of an object in exchange for money. "Talk to them," he had said. "Make them see you as a person. That will make them less likely to harm you."
So in light of the knowledge I garnered from the retired agent, I decide to indulge my captor. "Adeline," I answer him in an almost whisper.
His reaction is slight, but I can see a change in him. His lips move rapidly, but I can't hear what he's saying. I think I catch the word "seven", but I'm not totally sure. It's almost as if he's thinking out loud to himself, and I can't help but wonder if he does that often.
I have a million questions I want to ask; but after the way he reacted to me earlier, I'm afraid to set him off again.
