Page 28 of My Favorite Kidnapper

“No, you won’t. You’ll sleep with me because you want me as much as I want you. And I won’t touch you until you ask. But you will ask, Little Bee. You’ll give me what I want, including your body. Freely. I guarantee it.”

“No,” I managed to push out between my tightly clenched lips.

“It will happen.”

“Leave. Now.”

He straightened, tugging down his sleeves and smoothing back his hair. Then he moved so fast, I had no time to react. His mouth was on mine, his tongue sliding in, gliding and twisting, making me crazy instantly. I had no control over my own body. It bloomed like a rose under his touch, weeping for him, wanting him closer. Wanting his mouth harder, his tongue deeper.

Then as quickly as he was on me, he was gone.

Staring up at him, I touched my bruised lips.

“It will happen, Little Bee. The hard way or the easy way, it will happen.”

He pulled a card from his pocket. “My number. You have twenty-four hours to decide.”

He paused at the door. “Lock this behind me. You never know what sorts of weirdos are wandering around the neighborhood.”

Then he was gone, and I heard his laughter echoing down the hall.

Chapter Seven

BRIANNA

I spent the first twenty-four hours after Dante left in a frenzy of worry. Then when the allotted time came and went, I realized I was overreacting.

What was he going to do? He couldn’t force me to go to Italy with him. I had no passport, so I couldn’t even leave the country.

He had been playing me. I was certain of it. Still, worry niggled at me, and I decided to leave the city for a few days. When I was out of sight and he didn’t know where I was, he’d grow tired of waiting, and he would go back to whatever place he came from and leave me alone. I would speak to Carolina’s father and arrange payments to Dante from afar.

The only thing that happened was a pizza arrived at my door at six. Hot and fragrant, it was laden with toppings and cheese and smelled incredible. The note attached was simple.

I said I would feed you.

Eat it. I’ll know if you don’t.

Dante

I was tempted to throw it out, but it came from a pizzeria I had been wanting to try and couldn’t afford, and frankly, I was starving. It smelled too good to throw out, so once again, I found myself doing his bidding.

As I ate, I mulled over my options. I had no shifts until the weekend. No school. It was a rare break. Since I had no payment to make this week, I had a little extra cash. I decided to pack up Roomba and go to a small cottage up north. It was off-season, and the rate was cheap. I could take the bus, spend a few days by the water, and get a break. My cat traveled well and would sleep in her carrier on my lap. The bus ride was only four hours. The next morning, I walked to the bus terminal, keeping my eyes open, but I saw no trace of a red SUV or a tall, intense man watching me. Using my now debt-free Visa, I bought my ticket, then went to the store and bought some apples, crackers, and a jar of peanut butter. Great snacks for the bus and when I arrived.

My apartment was empty when I got home, and I breathed a sigh of relief. I noticed another small leak by the window and stuffed some wadded-up paper into the crack. I looked around with new eyes. It was a terrible little place. Dark and dingy. I had hung posters, had bright-colored blankets on the small futon bed that doubled as a couch if needed. The one armchair I had found at the side of the road and dragged home, using an old dress to recover it. I’d painted the arms and legs, and I had found the ottoman at a thrift store. The same with the faded rug on the floor. The kitchen consisted of a small stove that didn’t work, a waist-high fridge, and a scarred countertop with an old sink and taps that rattled when I turned them on. The bathroom was minute. The front door of the apartment never locked properly, and the people above me wore clogs and liked to tap-dance in them late at night. Or at least, I swore it was clogs.

But the apartment was cheap and warm in the winter. Too warm most of the time. The window was legal, but grimy and old. It wasn’t forever, and it was just me and Roomba.

However, it was, as Dante observed, god-awful.

I packed an overnight bag, keeping it simple. I loved overalls, the freedom and ease of them. I had several pairs in different colors, some short-length, others full. I paired them with T-shirts and sneakers. I put in a few pairs with some shirts, underwear, and sleeping attire. I didn’t bother with makeup. I made sure I had enough food for Roomba and her kennel had her blanket and some treats at hand. She loved to roam outside when we went to the cabin. She never went far, but she enjoyed the outdoors while we were there.

I had a ticket for the ten-a.m. bus the next day. I got ready for bed early, glancing at the door. Dante had been full of it. I bet he was already gone, laughing over the fact that he’d wound me up. At least I got a couple of hot meals out of it.

I wasn’t sure what I had expected. For him to break down my door and carry me off? Show up at the bus terminal and refuse to allow me to use my ticket? Whatever wild idea my imagination came up with was pure nonsense. It wasn’t going to happen. Why he’d paid off my loan and told me he wanted some cakes was a mystery. Ultrarich people were known for their idiosyncrasies. Maybe he did this a lot. I refused to admit that I felt a small fraction of disappointment at his absence. That I wished I could have sparred with him one more time. Maybe kissed him.

I refused to think about that at all.

I reached into the cupboard for my tin of Ovaltine. I was almost out, and I would have to remember to get more when I got back. One foster home I had been in for a short while had been nice, and the lady had made me Ovaltine and talked to me every night before I went to bed. Sadly, I wasn’t allowed to stay as she became ill, and I was only there for about a week. It was one of the few good memories I had growing up, and when I was on my own, I bought a tin and had a cup at night. It made me feel better somehow. Connected to something pleasant instead of all the awful memories I carried with me.