His head tilted slightly.
“May I ask why?”
“I’d rather you didn’t,” I replied honestly, and for a moment he simply studied me, though this time there was no sharpness in his gaze, only quiet consideration.
“And now?” he asked, and I hesitated.
“And now…” I exhaled slowly.
“I don’t know. I guess I just got used to him.” Even as the words left my mouth, I knew how ridiculous they sounded, yet I couldn’t quite bring myself to take them back.
“I know what you think,” I continued quickly.
“That he’s manipulating me, that he’s lying to me. And honestly, you might be right. I want to believe the best of him, but the truth is I don’t know for certain.”
His expression remained unreadable, despite knowing that hearing me say this must have brought him some satisfaction.
“But you have to understand something,” I added more quietly.
“I know even less about you.” Now, this definitely caused the silence between us to stretch.
As for his expression, it hardened at the admission, and for a heartbeat, I wished I could have taken it back. But instead, I decided to try to make him understand.
“And Bo hasn’t kidnapped me,” I finished carefully.
“He’s only helped me.” His gaze darkened slightly, making me wonder if I wasn’t just making it worse.
“To escape me,” Oblivion said, and I nodded. There it was the bitter truth. Only it was now one that came with a question as he asked,
“And now, little Inanna…”
“Do you still wish to escape me?”
5
BULLSHIT
Did I want to escape him?
That felt like a million-dollar question right there. Only a million dollars wasn’t at stake. My freedom was. But then, if that was the case, then it should have been a simple answer, but looking at him now, I knew it was about as far from simple as I could get.
Because for some totally insane reason, the idea of walking out that door now and never seeing him again felt too painful to even ask myself, let alone do.
Which was why the question lingered between us far longer than I was comfortable with.
To escape him… The words settled somewhere deep in my chest, stirring a quiet unease I didn’t quite know how to explain. So, instead of answering him, I found myself shaking my head slightly. My gaze dropped to my hands as though the fabric beneath my fingers had suddenly become fascinating enough to study.
I didn’t trust my voice to answer him honestly, not when the truth felt far more complicated than a simple yes or no. Which also meant that, for a few seconds, the room remainedcompletely still. The silence stretched between us until it felt almost tangible, and then I heard the faint sound of movement as he stepped forward.
The quiet rhythm of his footsteps across the floor sent an unexpected flutter through my stomach. But before he could close the distance between us, I pushed myself up from the couch, brushing my palms down the sides of my skirt more out of habit than necessity.
“I don’t want to answer that,” I muttered quickly, already turning as if the simple act of moving away might somehow dissolve the question he had placed between us.
However, I had barely taken a step when his hand closed around my wrist, shackling it. The contact was gentle, yet it stopped me instantly. The warmth of his fingers curling around my wrist sent a small, unexpected jolt through me, before I could even think to pull away. For a fraction of a second, I simply stared at the place where he held me, acutely aware of the quiet strength in his grip and the strange steadiness of it. As though the gesture had never been in doubt.
Then he drew me back toward him.
The movement was unhurried, almost effortless, guiding me the single step I had tried to take until I found myself standing directly in front of him once more. The closeness between us felt different now, heavier somehow. But before I could decide whether to step away again, his other hand settled lightly against my waist, steadying me there.
