Page 60 of My Favorite Kidnapper

Dante stood. “Your supplies are here.” He bent and cupped my face. “You light up my world, Little Bee. Is that what you need to hear?”

“It’ll do,” I whispered.

He kissed me, hard and deep, leaving me no doubt he meant what he said. “Now, plan today’s cake. I want a good one.”

He stopped and said something to Gia on his way to the door. I couldn’t understand what it was since he spoke so quickly in Italian, but they smiled in my direction and she nodded.

I finished my latte and stood.

Time to start baking.

* * *

I was in shock as I looked at the mountain of supplies Dante had ordered.

“How much flour is here?”

“I got three fifty-pound bags.”

“Dante, a fifty-pound bag has about two hundred cups in it. One would have been plenty.” I held up the sack of icing sugar. “Six of these?”

“I like frosting.”

“How much cream cheese did you get?”

“One hundred packages. I got the kind you said you like.”

“I would have to bake hundreds of cakes to use all this before it expires,” I muttered.

He shrugged. “Use what you need. The rest can be donated.”

But I heard him as he walked away. “Or stay and use it all. I’m good with that.”

Gia and I sorted the huge pile, filling a pantry in the kitchen where she kept staples. It hadn’t been used much, but once we were done, it was full. Everything I’d asked for had been ordered in bulk. And I had discovered one of the boxes upstairs contained my small airbrush set I always used, so I had everything I needed to create the beautiful cakes Dante wanted. I had bought a top-of-the-line one, and I was pleased to see it. I liked how well it worked.

Gia waved, leaving me alone in the kitchen. I dug the phone Dante had given me from my pocket, selected a playlist, and got to work.

I knew how much Dante loved the hummingbird cake, but it took a long time to make and cool, so I went with a simple vanilla one. I would do the hummingbird tomorrow. I tied on one of the new aprons and gathered my ingredients. As I measured and stirred, I began to hum. The kitchen was sun-filled and large. Lots of work spaces. The tile was warm under my bare feet. I could do exactly what I wanted. No MaryJo breathing down my neck, tracking how much time I used on her ovens, yelling at me to work faster, stop humming, or get more cupcakes done for her. None of the attitude to deal with from her children and no customers to attend to. It was tranquil and lovely. And I would never have a more appreciative customer than Dante. How I got here didn’t matter. Whatever deal we struck no longer concerned me. I loved it here, and I was going to enjoy every moment. Both in the kitchen and the bedroom.

Although I had a feeling he was the sort of man whose sexual appetite wasn’t limited to just one room.

I planned on satisfying all his cravings.

Anywhere he wanted.

* * *

DANTE

I carried my laptop down to the main floor, using the other, smaller office off the kitchen. I kept the doors open, and I enjoyed the show. My little bee was busy and had no idea I was watching her. She moved and danced around my kitchen like the sexual magnet she was. I needed to be in her orbit. She hummed and sang as she stirred and mixed. Little clouds of flour and sugar puffed from the mixer, and I imagined I would taste it all on her skin later. The stalker I had become, I snapped a couple of pictures of her, then settled back, enjoying her sweet soprano. Her voice relaxed me, easing the tension in my shoulders. Her joy of baking brought a smile to my lips and did something to my chest. What, I didn’t want to question, or perhaps I was too frightened to do so.

My phone rang with an incoming video, and I frowned at Paolo’s name. I shut the door to the office and accepted the call.

“Paolo. Good afternoon, brother.”

He didn’t bother with a greeting, leaning close to the camera. “Where is the girl?”

I crossed my legs, looking indifferent. “I beg your pardon?”