Peter keeps up a conversation that I choose not to participate in.It doesn’t seem to bother him.Maybe his daughter does the same thing.That gets me to thinking about why the handle is backward on that door.
What if I’m not the first woman Peter’s trapped here?Didn’t he mention scars?
What kind of man takes women in the first place?Probably the kind of man I want to stay far away from.Not that I have a choice.
I pick at the main course.It looks lovely and smells divine.Chicken with herbs in a brown sauce.Roasted vegetables beside it.They even poured a fresh glass of white wine to accompany it.
I want to dig in but I’m conflicted.On the one hand, I’ll need all the energy I can get to get out of this.On the other hand, what if it’s drugged?What if he’s just waiting for me to eat it so he can do whatever wicked thing he has planned?
Being kidnapped is hard work and mentally tasking.
Sighing, I lift my gaze to Peter’s.
“Are you a vegetarian, Ms.Morris?”He arches his eyebrow as he pointedly looks at my untouched meal.
“No.Just determining whether you’re the type of man to drug my food.”I watch him closely, looking for any sign that he is.
He chuckles and takes a drink of his wine.“If you’d like, I can take a bite of yours.Or we could trade plates.”
He’s been eating on his.Maybe if I let him see that I’m trusting him, he’ll trust me.And that’s how I’ll get out of this.Earn his trust.
I spear a bite of carrot and put it in my mouth.Oh fuck, that’s good.
Peter smiles.“It’s one of my favorite meals.I always have the cook make it when I’m here.”
“Do you come here often?”I take another bite.This time a parsnip, tender but crisp.It practically melts in my mouth.Eyeing the door that the plates came through, I realize I’m going to have to steal his cook.
“Not particularly.”He glances around the luxurious but austere room.“I prefer my city loft, but I liked to bring Natasha out here while she was growing up.This house has some good memories.”
I pause in filling my mouth with the tasty food.“But sometimes it left scars?”
His eyes light with amusement and he drinks some wine, sitting back in his chair with his glass between his fingers.“Is it story time, Ms.Morris?”
I shrug and cut into the chicken.“I’m a captive audience.”
His laughter fills the room.It’s a little jarring.I’m amusing my captor, but I need time to figure out how to escape.
“You and Natasha would be thick as thieves.”He shakes his head and lifts his chin, running his finger across a white line on his tan skin.“A present from a previous captive.She didn’t particularly care for my methods at the time, but I’ve grown complacent in my old age and must be more careful.”
“You can’t be more than forty.”I narrow my eyes.He’s older and there are grays in his black hair, but his skin is almost flawlessly smooth.
“You flatter me, Ms.Morris.”He sets his wineglass down.“I’m afraid I’m closer to fifty.”
Which would make sense if he has a daughter my age.He would have still been a young man when she was born.
“Tell me about Natasha.”I take a sip of the white wine before me.It’s crisp and light.
He smiles and his eyes sparkle.“She’s so much like her mother.A wild one.Untamed.Forever fighting the chains of her birth.”
“I can understand that.It’s hard to be a socialite.”I never drop my gaze from his face.
“Yes.”He lifts his napkin to the corners of his lips.It’s a wary answer, which means he isn’t telling me everything.
“You said she runs away?”I take a careful bite of food.
He releases a breath.“Yes, she’s very much like your Tom in that respect.Dreamers who have to wander when life gets to be too much.”
“Do you know my brother well?”I arch an eyebrow because I don’t know this man.He said he’s a client of Tom’s but that doesn’t mean much.As outside accountants you rarely interact with the actual owners of businesses unless they are fully engaged.Generally, you’re passed off to the company’s chief financial officer.
