by Celia Aaron
“You can’t decide that for me.”
“I haven’t. Don’t you understand? I’ve done all this so you can find out the same thing I already know. It’s like a shortcut.” The way he said it made it seem so rational, even though the words were far beyond the pale of reason.
I put my palm against his cheek, and he pressed against it. “I don’t work that way.”
“How do you work?”
I propped myself on my elbow and perused him from above. “You know that’s the first time you’ve asked the right question?”
A smile ghosted along the corner of his lips. “Is that so?”
“Yeah, it’s the same with my students. They’ll butt their heads against a wall over and over again while trying to understand a concept when all they have to do is ask the right question.”
“So what’s the answer?”
“I don’t work well with captivity.”
He smirked. “You just haven’t given it a real chance yet.”
“Psycho. I also don’t do well with deals.” I hastened to add, “though the one we just made still stands.”
“The captivity isn’t going to change.”
My hope sagged.
“But maybe I can work on my tendency to make deals.”
It wasn’t huge, but it was progress. I’d take it. “All right.”
“But I still want things from you.” He tucked his hands behind his head. “And if I can’t do deals, you have to make them attainable somehow.”
I eased down and rested my head on his chest. “What things?”
“Your body, your thoughts, your feelings.”
“So, everything. You just want it all.”
“Yes.” Once again, he said it as if it were utterly reasonable to demand all of another person.
“I’ll see what I can do.”
He draped his right hand across my shoulder, and we fell into a peaceful silence.
After a while, he said, “I’m sorry I’ve hurt you. It wasn’t my intention.”
“I know.” But his words didn’t change the fact that I had to get away. His touch, his fiery kisses, and the passion he ignited inside me—none of it could ever grow into more unless I was free. The only way I could make him understand was to show him, and that’s just what I intended to do.
“The last one is sent.” He swiped across the screen of his tablet and the screen went blank.
“Will you tell me when they respond?” We’d spent the drive to the city sending carefully worded texts to Veronica, Link, and Mint. Anytime I tried to do something creative, he shut me down. “I’ve reviewed all your texts. I know your cadence. You can’t throw me off.” Despite the setback, I could have cried with joy to hear that my friends were worried about me.
I was certain Sebastian left out several details and texts from what he’d read me, but I could survive on what love they’d sent, even if it was relayed through him. I told Mint to stay strong and that things would be all right, Veronica that there were no hot men in the Amazon, and Link that I missed him. Sebastian had scowled as his fingers conveyed the message, but he sent it anyway. When we were finished, I could have sworn he seemed relieved.
The car maneuvered through traffic, the streets still busy even though it was a Saturday morning. Sunlight glinted from the high rises, and I stared at all the people walking along. They had no idea a prisoner sat inside a gilded cage only a few feet away. The doors had locked the moment I stepped into the car, and Sebastian wasn’t going to give me the chance to try and bang on the windows.
“What’s wrong?” Sebastian studied me.
“Aside from being held captive while watching the world go on as usual? Nothing.”
“If the city is making you unhappy, I’m more than willing to take you back to the house.”
“No.” I gripped my elbows. “I paid dearly for this, so I’m going to take my time in the city.” And figure out a way to escape.
“I didn’t think you minded the payment that much.” His smirk appeared. “When you moaned in my mouth—”
I put my finger to his lips. “Just let me enjoy my time here, all right?”
“Fine by me.” He draped his arm across my shoulders.
I should have demanded he stop touching me, but it wasn’t worth the effort. It wasn’t that I enjoyed his scent or the feel of him against me. Not at all. I just had to give him some room to hope I’d comply with what he wanted. It was all a part of my plan.
He leaned close to my ear, his whisper sending a shiver down my spine. “The deal is still on for the evening, you know.”
“I know.” This time, I intended to avoid any more interaction than necessary. I’d stay strong.
The car pulled into a private garage at the base of a shiny high rise. When the door closed, Sebastian helped me from the car and walked me to the elevator.
“The penthouse is wired similarly to the house. If you pass the front door, I’ll get an alarm. The elevator won’t open for you, and the stairwell has a keypad.”
I stepped onto the waiting elevator. “What if there’s a fire?”
“I’ll save you.” His matter-of-fact tone had me arching an eyebrow.
“You’ll save me? I didn’t think the bad guy ever saved anyone but himself.”
He entered a code for the penthouse, and the elevator doors closed. “You think I’m the bad guy?”
“I know you are.” I leaned against the back wall of the elevator as we moved smoothly upward.
He leaned next to me. “Every bad guy is the hero of his own tale.”
“Seriously?” I gawked at him in the reflective door. “The hero?”
“I saved you from that dimwit, gave you a castle full of your favorite things, and am prepared to lay down my life for you in case of fire or other calamity. What about all that?”
It was so insane that I couldn’t help but smile. “If I were a lit teacher, I would likely comment on the importance of perspective. Sadly, I’m a science teacher, so I can tell you, without reservation, that your facts are baseless conjecture.”
The doors slid open and revealed a luxurious penthouse with views that would take even a New York realtor’s breath away. Dark wood floors, floor to ceiling windows, and rich furnishings. Masculine and polished, the space had been meticulously decorated to fit Sebastian’s tastes. Simple, Spartan, but somehow luxurious at the same time.
I tried to make an unimpressed face, though the sunlight streaming through the windows kept drawing my eye.
“It’s not as nice as your little Trenton cottage, but it’ll have to do.” Sebastian closed the door behind us, then strode into the wide-open living room.
A noise from the kitchen caught my attention.
Rita stood at the expansive granite island and chopped strawberries. Her being here was whiplash on my mind; I’d just seen her at the house for breakfast.
“When did you get here?” I walked over to her.
“Mr. Lindstrom sent the helicopter for me.” She shook her head. “Never again. Dios mio, never again.”
I glanced at him over my shoulder as he fiddled with his phone. “Bringing your cook? You are spoiled.”
“No, I’m spoiling you.” He tapped his screen, and low music filtered through hidden speakers. “I usually order in if I’m in the city, but I brought Rita to make you more comfortable. She’ll stay in the suite below us. Though her services won’t be needed tonight. I’m taking you out.”
Out. Possibilities for escape blossomed in my mind and wilted just as quickly. Sebastian wouldn’t risk losing me in the city.
“Lunch will be ready in an hour.” Rita wiped her hands on her apron, then dropped the knife she’d been using into a metal lockbox.
I pointed at it. “Really?”
Sebastian sank onto a leather couch and put his feet up on the plush ottoman. “Really.” He waved his hand at the stunning view. “Now that we’re here, please regale me with your plan for escape.”
I snagged a strawberry
from Rita and strode to the window. The ripe fruit burst in my mouth as I took in the equally mouthwatering cityscape. The sun floated high overhead in an azure sky, and Central Park beckoned from just a few blocks away.
“I’m glad you asked.” I turned and took in the navy polo that sat perfectly on his broad chest and the jeans slung low across his hips. “First thing is to kill you when you’re asleep, then raid your bank account, and finally escape to the Amazon where I will open my own world-class field school.”
He nodded. “Solid plan. I like it. Just one question, though. How are you going to take me out?”
I held my hands out and made a show of inspecting them. “I could strangle you.”
Rita gave me an awkward glance, then disappeared into a large pantry.
“I’m afraid you simply don’t have the strength necessary for that.”
“Oh, I don’t know. When I’m motivated—and I am—I can do just about anything.”
“Want to try it?” He patted his lap. “See if you have the strength before you fully commit to this plan?” The sparkle in his eye was damn sexy even though we were discussing his potential murder.
“No, thank you.”
“Do you have a plan B?” He let his gaze trail down my body. “One that gets even more physical than the strangling scenario?”
“How do you mean?”
“If you sat on my face, I’d be more than happy to suffocate, just so long as you came first. And I can guarantee you would.” He licked his lips.
Jeeeeeez. I sank into a side chair with a view out the windows. Not because my legs had gone weak from the mental image of me sitting on his face. I was just tired. “Never mind. You ruined it.”
He laughed. “You’re only saying that because my plan appealed to you.”
“Suffocating you, yes. Sitting on your face, no.” A blush crept into my cheeks at the lie.
“You can admit your desires to me. I’m the only one who would never judge you.”
“That’s reassuring. I desire to be free.”
“You are. With me.” He swiped a wide tablet from the ottoman and, with the click of a few buttons, the music turned off and a large television rose from what had been a bare patch of wood floor. “Since you’ve yet to start your grand escape, how about a movie?”
“A movie?”
“Yeah.” He patted the couch next to him. “I have some calls to make this afternoon, and we’re going out tonight, so let’s watch a flick while we have down time.”
“I don’t know…” I glanced to the doors leading to different parts of the penthouse.
“I’ll show you around after, and you can work on your bedsheet rope while I’m on the phone. All right?” His smirk both infuriated me and temped a smile from my lips.
“I suppose a movie would be okay.” I didn’t move to sit next to him.
“You have to make things attainable, remember?” He patted the sofa again. “Please”—he said the word as if peanut butter coated his tongue and made speech difficult—“watch a movie with me?”
I had promised to try. And a movie was well within the bounds of what I was willing to give. I rose and sat next to him, leaving a few inches of space between us.
“That’s all I’m going to get?”
“You said you wanted a movie. Here I am, ready to watch a movie.” I tucked my feet up under me on the couch and stared at the blank television screen.
He grumbled, but clicked something on the touch screen again. Curtains fell from the ceiling, covering the windows.
“Leave them.” I put my hand on his. “I love the light.”
“If you keep your hand on me during the movie, I’ll leave them open.”
I squinted at him. “That sounds a lot like a deal.”
“Not a deal, just a request.” He tapped the same button on the remote, and the curtains stopped falling.
I should have removed my hand. I didn’t. There wasn’t a transaction between us, but an understanding. If I took my hand away, I wouldn’t lose anything. If I left it, I wasn’t giving in; I was making my own choice.
He tapped a few more buttons, and the TV clicked on, sound pouring through hidden speakers all around us. The Lionsgate insignia flashed across the screen. Music played—the notes of a piano that I knew by heart. A hallway appeared, the walls stark white, the furniture sterile, as if recently bought and never used. Then the flash of a perfect man wearing white briefs. When the narration began, goose bumps erupted down my arms and legs. American Psycho.
Sebastian turned his hand over and entwined our fingers. “I know this is your favorite movie,” he whispered.
On paper, my favorite movie was Pitch Perfect. But, in truth, Sebastian was right. Christian Bale’s portrayal of Patrick Bateman had enthralled me from the first moment I heard his opening monologue. I’d never bought the book or borrowed it from the library for fear of someone seeing it in my collection. And also for fear that I’d love it even more than the film. But it was just a movie, right? Enjoying an entertaining film that millions of others had enjoyed didn’t say anything about me.
“Stop thinking and enjoy it.” He squeezed my fingers as the psychopath on the screen told us “I simply am not there.”
32
Sebastian
I finished my phone calls as Camille continued her search for an escape from my penthouse. Once she’d exhausted all avenues—except the video surveillance room I’d locked—she reappeared in my bedroom and flopped down on the bed.
“No luck?” I locked my tablet and stood.
“None, you sadistic prick.” Her mouth had grown steadily worse the longer she stayed with me. It was precious as all hell.
I smiled down at her. “I’m beginning to sense a little anger. But only a little.”
“What’s in the locked room? Severed head collection?”
“Don’t be ridiculous.” I grinned. “That’s where I stack the dead hookers.”
“That’s only funny if a non-psycho says it.” She rolled onto her stomach and buried her face in the white duvet. If she called me more names—and I was certain she did—they were too muffled to understand.
“Come on. It’s almost time to go out.”
She rolled onto her side as I knelt at her feet.
“What are you doing?” Propping up on an elbow, she watched my fingers slide up her ankle.
“Freeing you for the evening, but don’t get used to it.” I unlatched the golden chain and slid it into my pocket.
She ran her hand over the spot where the anklet had been, the relief in her sigh almost palpable. “Thank you.”
“Like I said, it’s going back on later tonight.” I kept my voice stern, though I loved every emotion that telegraphed through her expressive eyes.
Love. I’d never used that word, the very idea of it foreign to me. I sat back on the wool rug. But I’d just thought the word. Thought how much I loved her emotions. And I didn’t only think it; I felt it.
“Are you okay?” She peeked down at me.
The heartburn in the center of my chest threatened to char me to a cinder. “I’m fine.”
“You don’t look fine.” She scooted to the edge of the bed, then down to the floor with me. “What is it?”
“Nothing.” I hastened to my feet and offered her my hand.
She took it and stood, worry creasing the pale skin along the top of her nose.
“Timothy is bringing your dress, and we need to get ready to go.” I tapped my watch. “Reservations.”
As if he’d heard his name, Timothy knocked on the open doorframe and walked in, a deep crimson gown draped across his arms and a pair of black stilettos hanging from one hand. “Sorry for the delay.”
“It’s fine.”
She walked over to the gown and took it from him. “Wow, this is fancy.”
“If you’d prefer something else, I’ll understand.” Despite my words, I silently willed her to like what I’d chosen for her.
She held it up and
looked it over with a critical eye. “I think I like it.”
The fiery grip on my heart relaxed the slightest bit. “I’m glad.”
She smiled, actual joy on her face, and my ass almost hit the wool rug again. It was the emotion I’d wanted to see, the one I’d been chasing for the past few months. Here it was, bright as day and more exquisite than the sun. And it only happened when the anklet was in my pocket, when she was free.
She snagged the shoes from Timothy, hurried past me, and closed the bathroom door. “Give me a few minutes, and I’ll be right out.”
I closed my eyes and pinched the bridge of my nose. What was happening inside me?
“It’s working.” Timothy’s low voice cut through my cacophony of confusion.
“Is it?” I stared at him. “You think she’s accepted it?”
He chuckled. “No, but I think you’re starting to.”
I changed into a tux and listened intently to every move Camille made in the bathroom. After a while, she fell silent and opened the door.
If I’d been overwhelmed before, one look at her in that stunning dress crushed me under the spike of her heel. The crimson fabric draped between her breasts and hugged the curve of her hips. The skirt fell mid-thigh, and when I thought of the view I’d get if she bent over, my mouth went dry. Holy fuck.
“You look…” She took a deep breath and walked to me, placing one hand over my scorching heart. “So handsome.”
Her blonde hair cascaded over one shoulder, and she’d made use of the few cosmetics Timothy had stowed in the bathroom. Her lashes were dark and long, her lips a few shades lighter than the deep hue of her dress. A vision, she took my breath away. Words failed.
The smile, the real one, spread across her pouty lips. “I don’t think I’ve ever rendered a man speechless before, especially not a psychopath.”
I gripped her hips, and she didn’t move away. The slinky material was smooth beneath my fingertips. Either she wore a thong or no panties at all. How was I going to make it through dinner with this vixen? I already wanted to make her scream. By the time we were done with dinner, I’d be begging her for just a lick along her sweet pussy.