Page 20 of Obsessive Love
I handled my hygiene but was slightly annoyed when I got out of the shower because no matter how good I looked, my hair was a fucking mess. I wrapped myself in a towel and stepped out of the bathroom to find another bag, but it was sitting on the bed. Inside were a bunch of hair products, a blow dryer, and a flat iron.
“Thank you, Pyrite,” I said out loud.
“Never thank me for taking care of your needs,” he replied.
“Fucking serial killer,” I mumbled and shook my head. I wasn’t even surprised that he could hear me, but I was shocked that he replied. I looked around the room to see if there was a speaker I hadn’t noticed earlier, but found nothing.
I went back to the bathroom and washed my hair. He had to have a waterless hot water tank because the temp never dropped after showering and washing my hair. I would have to wear a wash and go for now because I doubt I have enough time to domy hair. The products in the bag were perfect; I dressed after getting my hair together.
“You ready?” Pyrite asked. I still had no idea where the speakers were, but I didn’t care.
“Yeah,” I answered.
“The door is open,” he said.
I took a deep breath, nodded, and walked up the steps. To my surprise, I opened the door and walked into the kitchen. My eyes swept over the beautiful room, and I was jealous at the thought of whoever got to cook here: black cabinets, marble white counters, an oversized fridge, stove, and a large island.
“You ready?” Pyrite asked as he stepped into the kitchen.
“Who cooks here?” I ran my hand over the counters as I walked around.
“Me,” he answered. I looked over my shoulder to see him standing near the door with his hands in his pockets. My brow went up in surprise, and he smirked. “I don’t like people in my space, Fable. Home, work, nothing.”
“Yet, I’m here,” I replied, and he shrugged. I opened the fridge and nodded; it was fully stocked.
“Are you ready?” he asked.
I closed the fridge, crossed my arms, and stared him down. “Where are we going?”
“Lunch,” he replied. He took his left hand out of his pocket and extended it for me to take. “I already told you we need to discuss something.”
I looked at his hand and then at him. “You’re going to take me in public, knowing I could cause a scene?”
“Why would you cause a scene?”
“Because you kidnapped me,” I answered with a shrug. “I could run to the first person that I see and tell them that I’m being held against my will and to call the police.”
“You could, but you won't,” he said, shaking his head.
“And why wouldn’t I?”
“I doubt you want some innocent bystander’s death on your hands,” he smiled. “Because I will kill whoever with no regret.”
“You wouldn’t,” I challenged, even though a million and one alarms were sounding off in my head that told me that he would. Pyrite’s aura screamed that he was unhinged and a killer.
“Try me,” he calmly replied. His eyes sparkled with an unspoken promise, and I shook my head. “Smart decision.”
“You can’t keep me locked in here forever,” I said. For some reason, lying to him felt forbidden, and even though I loved to challenge him, stepping over that line didn’t appeal to me.
Pyrite tilted his head to the side, chuckled, then shook it. “You’re right, which is why we are going to the dining room to eat for now.”
“You had me get dressed to go eat in the damn dining room?” I yelled, and he nodded. “Why the fuck would you do that?”
“For the reasons you just said.” He pulled his hand back and shrugged. “You don’t trust me yet; until you do, you will stay here. After we eat, I’ll show you to your room.”
“I’ve seen the basement,” I said, then rolled my eyes.
“That’s not your room,” he chuckled, then walked away. “Come on, let’s eat.”
