And yet, here he was buying a pizza for me.Specificallyfor me. It was the wrong kind of pizza, and it was an insult that he believed he knew me enough to choose for me. But he’d done it anyway. Not only that, but he’d been so careful, so delicate, when taking the tape off my mouth. Sure, he expected me to obey him, that was clear. Eating a slice of “his” pizza was as defiant and as brave as I intended to be, but he’d only laughed. And insulted me with that quip about my future husband. The bastard.
Leon grabbed himself one of the vegetarian pieces and made sure I saw him do it. He finished the piece as quickly as a starving dog and pretended to notice me watching him.
“I don’t know,” he said with a shrug. “It’s just not the same without any meat.”
“That’s the idea, Einstein.”
I wondered how he stayed in such great physical shape if he ate so poorly. Either he had really good genes giving him a metabolism that I lusted for myself, or he worked out seven days a week. Probably both. He’d taken off his overcoat and jacket. The off-white dress shirt he wore underneath showed off his shoulders, chest, and arms.
To keep my eyes off him, I helped myself to another pizza slice. Vegetarian this time. I’d made my point, and besides, Ilikedmushrooms. He smirked at me, but I gave him the cold shoulder and stared at the television screen as if he didn’t exist.
The two of us were acting like children, but I didn’t care. If that made him less frightening and still somehow kept me safe, I was all for it.
Maybe Leon also had some skin in the game when it came to me staying safe. If he was hoping to ransom me, he needed to keep me in decent shape. My father would already be looking to kill Leon for kidnapping me and killing his men. Leon had to be waiting for some big payoff for keeping me alive. That’s why he hadn’t shot me.
We lapsed into a tense silence as we ate. I usually didn’t eat much, which always upset my mother. She would go from dire warnings about how a young girl had to watch her figure to attract a husband to chastising me for not eating all the pasta on my plate.
With mothers, sometimes you couldn’t win.
Leon finished another slice of pizza and sauntered toward the bathroom. He had that pistol shoved into the back of his waistband. The gun looked very black against the white of his dress shirt.
He stopped and turned to face me before heading into the bathroom. “I have to piss. Do I need to tie you up?”
“No,” I replied icily. He was as crude as I expected.
“I have the chain on that door, so don’t try running for it. I’ll have to chase you, and it’ll be messy.”
The image of him wildly chasing me with his pants halfway down and still pissing or whatever was almost enough to make me try it. Then again, he might mean “messy” as in I’d have holes in me bleeding everywhere.
He was a killer. He’d already proven that. He hadn’t hurt me for mouthing off, but that was as far as I was willing to go. If I ran, he might actually kill me, even if that wasn’t what he wanted. Never look for mercy from a criminal when their asses were on the line.
“I’ll be good,” I promised.
He stared at me. I stared back, managing not to fidget. God, he had an intense stare. I started sweating a little.
Finally, he nodded as if convinced I was appropriately cowed and turned his back on me.
“Don’t drop your gun,” I called after him.
“Don’t worry. I’ve got a firm grip.”
“With your winning personality, I’m sure you’ve had plenty of practice with your ‘grip.’”
He glanced back at me and gave me a half-assed salute. “Nice one, Princess. That’s always a classic.”
He left the bathroom door open, so I was treated to the sound of him urinating in the toilet, which sounded very loud. Not that the door in this cheap place would’ve masked the sound much. I bet the vulgar bastard was proud of how much his pee sounded like a waterfall. Hopefully, the barbarian had put the seat up, but I wouldn’t bet money on it.
Leon swaggered back out again after washing his hands. At least he wasn’t completely uncouth.
I didn’t give him the pleasure of looking his way, but I could feel his eyes on me. I kept staring at the television. It was a show about real estate in Hawaii. Which made me think of my trip to the Caribbean and island hopping from Aruba to the Cayman Islands. Not much chance of a chance in Hell that I’d make my nine a.m. flight tomorrow, private jet or no.
Right now, I was hoping I’d stay alive to see Christmas.
“Are you going to ransom me?” I asked, still staring at the television screen and a shot of the beach at sunset with the waves painted in orange and purple light. Wishing I was there…
“You ask a lot of questions.”
“I have a vested interest in what happens to me.”
