What bothered me most was that I was falling back into the same thought processes I had when I was with him as Xavier.
That I wasn’t scared of the man, even though I should be. I should try harder to escape, but I wasn’t afraid. Most of it had to do with the fact that when I looked at him, I didn’t see Roman Stone, the man who went to prison because of my dumb luck. I saw Xavier, the man who held me so tight I didn’t think I could breathe unless he was nearby.
It was just so much easier to see the illusion when he wasn’t doing anything to me the way I thought Roman Stone might.
And how badly I wanted to believe in that illusion.
How badly I wanted the man sitting next to be the one I had gotten to know over the last few weeks.
My bottom lip trembled, and I looked around the cabin, trying to distract myself from my thoughts so I wouldn’t do something stupid like cry in front of him.
Again.
I could feel the heat of his stare on my skin, and I pretended not to notice.
Perhaps one of the reasons why I wasn’t feeling as scared as I should was because this cabin looked nothing like a killer’s cabin.
It was almost… cozy.
And it offered some of the most high-tech, modern amenities I had ever seen.
It was a comfortable cabin, and I imagined if he had taken me here as Xavier, I would have been excited.
It would have created the illusion of the most romantic getaway.
I took in a deep breath.
But he didn’t take me here on a romantic getaway.
He drugged me and took me here, and there was no way for me to leave.
“Whose cabin is this?” I asked.
He didn’t answer me until I looked over at him, and even though I had mentally braced myself for the impact his gaze would have on me, I was still caught breathless.
“Mine,” he answered.
I had figured that out, but his answer still surprised me.
His lips twitched as he took in my expression. “What, baby?”
I shook my head. “You just don’t seem like the kind of man to own a cabin in the middle of the woods.”
“You mean like a killer?”
I shrugged. “You said it, not me.”
He was full-on smiling then, and I had to look back down at my half-eaten breakfast. I didn’t have much of an appetite anymore. I pushed the plate away from me.
“All done?” he asked.
I nodded.
He looked at my plate, frowning a bit, but he didn’t comment on it. He stood up, grabbed his empty plate and mine, and walked over to the sink. I didn’t bother offering to help him clean up. I wasn’t here as a guest but as a captive.
I needed to remind myself of that.
I sat there and watched him make quick work of washing the dishes and wiping down the counter. He kept the place surprisingly clean, though from what I had gathered from his apartment, Xav—Roman—was the kind of man who kept his place meticulously cleaned.
