“Are you worried about missing the exciting part?” Sookie wanted to slap herself. Why did she keep trying to provoke him? Too arrogant.
“What I mean is, then you won’t be embarrassed for trying to secretly pass an encoded message. Trust me, I have more to say than you can imagine.”
“I find that hard to believe.”
She really enjoyed talking back.
“Welcome to test me.”
Sookie pouted. “Oh really? Caveman and Frat boy.”
When he placed the phone on the counter, he frowned at her.
“Sorry, should I assume that the person who kidnapped a girl from a bar and shot others is some kind of scholar?”
She snatched the phone with a tone of arrogance.
Opening the phone, she found several missed calls and a long string of texts from Kalvin:
You’re freaking crazy. We’re urgently pressing charges against you, you neurotic whore.
Screw you, you insane woman. Anticipating their lawyer’s call.
I hope you get cancer.
She blinked and put the phone down.
Okay.
But that’s it. No other messages, no voicemails, and no news of her family going on vacation. Her point being, it had been twelve hours, and yet no one had sent her a regular message.
A light chuckle came from behind her, and she turned to see him grinning, his eyes lifting from her phone.
“Oh, I have plenty of friends and family,” he mocked her in a strange sing-song voice.
“Shut up.”
She finally called Daisy, despite knowing from when she dropped off her nephew, Kate, at daycare before her shift at the hospital.
It went straight to voicemail, much like she imagined.
“Hey, it’s me,” she sighed, feeling Enzo’s gaze on her.
“Just letting you know I’ll be off the grid…” her voice trailed off as she glanced at him.
“For a while,” he said.
“For a while,” she repeated.
She sighed.
“I need to clear my head. I’ve had some bad run-ins with Kalvin-”
Suddenly, she realized she was dialing the number she should have called last night.
“Things with Kalvin have gone really bad, I- I messed up, Daicy, I just need some time.”
She wasn’t even following Enzo’s script, but this was indeed what she felt inside.
“So, call anytime, but I might not pick up. If you’d like, you can pass this along to Mom and Dad, Macey and Nathan, Arthur and Bella, Jack and Eva. Okay, thanks. Goodbye.”
She hung up, and he snatched the phone back.
“Do you still need to thank the college?” he quipped.
She shot him a look.
“I mean, do you need to pass this along to other people?” he asked, arms crossed, looking at her.
“I have a big family.”
“Oh, I see,” he smirked. “So, who is Kalvin?”
“My boyfriend-” she shook her head. She had thought of lying, but why bother? “My ex-boyfriend.”
“The reason you kissed me last night was your ex-boyfriend?”
Great, another one of these questions.
He just glanced at her and turned to fetch more coffee.
“I need to use the bathroom.”
He turned, raising an eyebrow at her, seemingly questioning the truth of her words.
Sookie sighed. “This isn’t a ploy, I really have to go. Unless you want this lovely kitchen chair soaked through.”
“Fine,” he muttered, circling around her again. As she stood up, he undid the loop that had been securing her to the chair and walked away.
“Damn it!”
Great, she had stumbled.
Her legs felt numb.
When he rushed to grab her, she gasped in fright. He caught her, pulling her up with his strong arm, and as she leaned against him, her heart raced.
He led her to the bathroom and opened the door.
She was surprised; she thought a criminal like him would have a rundown apartment with a shabby, disgusting bathroom.
But it wasn’t the case.
The bathroom was simple yet elegant, exuding masculinity-dark tiles and silver fixtures, with a large porcelain bathtub on one side and a separate shower stall on the other.
Surprisingly upscale and good-looking.
In downtown Boston, this whole place would be worth millions of dollars. But in the deserted warehouse district, she figured it wouldn’t be as severe.
Maybe you had to be a murderous kidnapper to live here.
“You can go in.”
She walked into the bathroom, turned around, but his hand rested on the door. He had no intention of helping her close it.
“Are you serious?”
“Do you think I’d let you lock a door between you and me?”
“I need to pee.”
“Got it, go ahead.”
She glared at him. “I won’t let you watch.”
“Your call.”
“I can’t.”
“A second ago, you were about to pee on my kitchen chair.”
As she stared at him, her face burned. “Are you kidding me?”
“I’ll look away, but the door stays open.”
She clenched her fists, standing in front of him.
“Ding dong, princess.”
She grunted, her face turning crimson. “You’re such a jerk.”
“Sticks and stones, darling.”
He turned away, his muscular arm reaching back to push the door open. She glanced at him again, clenched her teeth, groaned, and dragged her feet toward the toilet. She pulled her underwear down to her knees and squatted.
Nothing.
She must have needed to pee so badly, but she absolutely wouldn’t let him stand there watching her.
She tensed, trying, but nothing happened.
“Do you need me to fetch some water or something?”
She glared at the back of his head.
“I can play some rain sounds on the stereo-”
“Can you please stop talking?”
He chuckled.
Still nothing.
“Ding dong, little star.”
“Oh my god, can you please shut up? Can you cover your ears?”
Enzo laughed and tilted one ear to his shoulder, covering the other with his hand.
She was certain he was still listening, but it was helpful, and luckily, she could finally pee.
Afterwards, she cleaned up and pulled up her underwear. Still hungover, she looked at the luxurious bathtub and shower, desperately wishing she could clean herself off. She washed her hands, observing everything so perfect and orderly. Goodness, even the angle of his toothbrush was unnaturally precise.
Incredulous, she wondered if it was all a facade. Perhaps he actually had a killing room with a plastic lining?
“Come on, you’re acting like a little kid.”
She stared at his smug face in the mirror. “Are you this much of a jerk to all the girls you kidnap and tie up?”
“Only the ones I like.”
—————— Afternoon ——————
The rest of the afternoon passed in silence. She sat on his bed, going through the books in her bag, while he disappeared to the other side of the loft. Occasionally, she felt him watching her, making her uneasy, but she ignored it.
In fact, even now, as his captive, she couldn’t stop thinking about how his lips felt on hers. Or his hands on her.
Or the way his eyes looked at her-full of dangerous and forbidden temptation.
As she shook and tried to steady her breathing, shaking her head, she realized she couldn’t focus on the book in her hand.
This must be the beginning of Stockholm syndrome, and she needed to get out of here before it got worse.