Page 42 of My Favorite Kidnapper

I sat in the sun for hours, mulling over my options. Not that I had many. Something had shifted when I saw him talking to the police officer. When I heard my own explanation to the officer, I felt almost silly. What Dante did was wrong. So wrong. But he hadn’t hurt me in any way. He made me angry, but he hadn’t hurt me. I had a feeling there were lots of women who wouldn’t mind if he spirited them away to a villa in Italy.

And his kisses. I wasn’t sure what to make of my reactions to him. He was so sexy. Older, experienced, and sure of himself. He touched me, and I melted, all my resistance gone. As I’d never felt desire for a man, it was heady. Overwhelming. And I liked it.

Leaning back on my elbows, I contemplated a different sort of relationship with Dante. Giving him what he so clearly wanted. I had no idea what he found so attractive about me, aside from his love of my cakes. But there had to be something. Maybe he liked younger, curvy girls. It could be as simple as that. All men had a type.

I rolled over, feeling the heat of the sun on my back soak through my overalls and shirt. Maybe I should give him what he wanted. It would be a reckless decision, but I had played it safe my whole life, and where had it gotten me? I was in debt, alone, in a dead-end job, and still a virgin at twenty-six. Dante was happy to change all those things.

I could only imagine what a physical relationship with him would entail. It would be intense, I was certain. Yet I knew he would be gentle with me when needed. What better way to discover my sexuality than with someone experienced who could teach me?

Simply thinking about it made me shiver.

All my thoughts came back to me as I sat on my bed, writing my lists. I had done my usual pro and con list, shaking my head as the pros became a great deal longer than the cons. And almost every single one had to do with Dante.

The countryside was incredible—and I had barely explored it. I wanted to see more. Feel the sun. Enjoy the days. The thought of not returning to that cramped little apartment made me feel lighter. Not having to listen to MaryJo and her spoiled, entitled kids. Work seven days a week just to keep my head above water—all of those were pros. And the list grew. The food. A chance to see a bit of Italy—something I’d never thought possible, given my resources and life.

My cons seemed fairly weak. The Kidnapped me! stood out, but I was having a hard time holding on to my anger. I chewed the end of the pen, wondering if I was suffering from Stockholm syndrome. Or, more accurately, Dante Delusion. Either way, it was bothersome.

Giving up control to Dante was a major point. I’d had only myself to rely on my entire life. I decided where, when, what I was doing. Now, he would be in charge. Deciding when I could leave the estate, who I interacted with, when I slept or ate. Yet somehow, I knew it would all be done with my best interests in mind. And he would want me to be happy.

Baking a cake a day seemed a petty point since I was used to working much harder than that. Even adding in decorating time, it was a pretty light schedule.

I left it there anyway. It made the list look balanced.

I couldn’t put missing Roomba. The cock-a-doodle-doo had catnapped her too. I mean, what kind of cray cray thought of that? The Dante kind, I decided. Anyway, she seemed all in favor of remaining.

I looked at the other lists I had written. What I needed. My own lists of demands.

I put the pad of paper on the nightstand and slid under the light covers. I wondered what he would counter with.

I could only imagine.

I guessed I would discover that soon enough.

I curled up, falling asleep quickly.

I needed to add this comfy bed to the list of pros.

I’d do that in the morning.

Chapter Ten

DANTE

I leaned in the doorway, watching Brianna sleep. In the early morning light, she looked like an angel, though I knew she was anything but. Sassy, proud, strong, and independent, she tried my patience like no other woman before her. Perhaps that was what attracted me to her so strongly. Why I was acting this way. Like some degenerate. Staring at her as she slept. Worrying about her eating.

Kidnapping her and bringing her here.

Despite her beliefs that I did this all the time, I had never behaved in this fashion. I was high-handed. Focused and determined. But usually with women, they came to me. I was always honest with them, and we used each other until we were no longer interested—often me breaking it off first. I had never taken someone without their consent, with the intent of my own pleasure.

But with Brianna, all the rules were out the window. The thought of leaving her behind had been unacceptable. The certainty she would tell me to go stuff myself or some other polite expression was high. I couldn’t take that chance.

I spied her notebook on the nightstand, and the urge to peek into her notes was strong. Gia had told me Brianna had sought her out, asking in slow, carefully mimed actions for a pen and paper. She had given Brianna what she requested, and I had assured Gia it wasn’t an issue, although my curiosity burned hot, wondering what my little bee was writing.

“Speak English to her if you can,” I instructed. “She will be here a while.”

“So pretty,” Gia said.

“Yes. She’ll be baking a lot. She’ll need some instruction on how to use the ovens.”