Total pages in book: 27
Estimated words: 24451 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 122(@200wpm)___ 98(@250wpm)___ 82(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 24451 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 122(@200wpm)___ 98(@250wpm)___ 82(@300wpm)
Since he left me alone, I’d gone on an emotional roller coaster and had been debating whether to stay hidden or face the man who turned my life upside down in mere minutes. But the fear of what he’d do if he had to come up here and “fetch” me finally scared me into action.
My stomach twisted with nerves and nausea, and the scent of whatever he was cooking only made the ache sharper.
Gathering all my strength, I forced myself off the bed and made my way downstairs, every step feeling heavier as I moved toward the first floor. I stepped off the last stair and rounded the corner. Once I got to the entryway of my little kitchen, I stopped and held my breath.
My kitchen was outdated—like the rest of my home—with the linoleum floor scratched and the countertop peeling. The cabinets were worn from years of use and were made of oak laminate.
Even my furniture was old and second hand.
Kane stood by the stove, his massive frame much too large for the space. His back was to me, but the way his shoulders tensed, I knew he was aware of my presence.
“Sit,” he ordered without looking at me. His voice was calm, but it was very clear there was no room for argument just like before.
I was unsure whether to obey or run back upstairs and lock the door, hoping it would hold until I could figure out what the fuck to do. But the idea of running from him, of defying him, sparked a flicker of something that made my stomach clench hard.
And because I was lost in my thoughts, I didn’t move, watching him do his task so fluidly it made that strange something flicker inside me again.
He turned and faced me, a frying pan in his hand. He gestured toward my table, and it was then I realized it was set with other food littered the top of it.
He’d made breakfast… at night.
“Sit,” he said again, his eyes heavy and dark and trained on me.
My glimmer of defiance fizzled away as soon as it appeared, burning out like a match being blown out. I swallowed hard and sat at my small, weathered table, and I rested my hands in my lap to twist them together inside the bottom of my shirt.
And then he piled food on both plates before taking the seat across from me. I’d never felt like my table was too small, but having him sit on the other side left no space to ignore his presence. Not that I could before he sat down.
Kane didn’t look at me, just picked up his fork and started eating as if this was a totally normal situation.
I looked down at my plate and murmured, “I’m not hungry.” My voice was barely above a whisper.
But Kane still didn’t look at me, let alone respond right away. He focused on eating, chewing slowly and swallowing deliberately before taking a long drink from his glass of water. Only then did he set his fork down and lift his eyes to mine.
“Evelina, eat,” he said, his tone unyielding. “I want to have a nice meal. Don’t make me tell you again.”
I swallowed hard and stared at the food, my stomach twisting into knots as I eyed the scrambled eggs, the two slices of bacon, and the piece of buttered toast that he cut diagonally into two triangles. I picked up my fork, speared some eggs, and forced a small bite into my mouth. Although I knew it was probably great, my fear made it taste like flavorless paste on my tongue.
I couldn’t enjoy it. Not with him sitting there, watching me like the fucking psychopath he was.
We ate in silence, with only the sound of our forks hitting the dishes. When he was finished, he pushed his empty plate away and leaned back in his chair. I glanced up from under my lashes, taking the cue from him being done that it was safe for me to abandon my plate as well.
He studied me for a moment before speaking, and I swore his words cut through the silence—and me—like a serrated knife.
“Thank you for the meal.”
I was taken aback by his graciousness. This man was thanking me for eating my food? The only reason he was even here was because he’d broken into my home and taken me hostage. I wanted to say so much, but I kept my mouth shut.
“I’d hoped you would try to leave,” he added.
I froze. There it was… the insanity that he masked well enough with pleasantries when it suited him.
“Excuse me?” Motherfucker. I left that last part out, of course.
He smirked. “Part of me wanted to see you try to run.” His voice was almost thoughtful. “I wanted you to gather that fire I see in your eyes right now and defy me. I wanted you to run, so I could chase you.”