“My interior designer is supposed to come by in the morning. We won’t be stuck for days. Now, move over.” He tries to nudge me away from the edge of the bed, but my thoughts are still reeling.
“But we won’t be able to open the door to let her in.”
“She has a key. Now,move.”
I absently shift to the side as realization sets in. “So we weren’t in any danger of dying here. You were just toying with me?” I blurt.
He lies beside me, explaining himself as he tries to find a comfortable position with one arm forced over his head. “Who said anything about dying? This right here is what I was trying to avoid, and now I’ll be awake all night, I’ll miss my morning workout, and my entire day will be a mess,” he grunts and grumbles until finally settling on his back with a sigh.
The heat from his arm resting against mine makes me suddenly aware that he’s not wearing a shirt. We lie very still, both of us with an arm raised over our heads. Neither of us sleeping.
“I didn’t mean to do it,” I whisper into the silence.
“I know,” he says on a weary exhale.
God, this is so uncomfortable. So awkward. I try to adjust my position from one side to the other, but it’s pointless.
“Quit your wiggling,” my irritable captor fusses.
“I’m trying to get comfortable.”
Nope, the side I’m on is making my arm go numb. I return to my back only to have Tommy wrap his free arm around my middle and pull me snug into the curve of his body like we’re some sort of couple.
Oh God. This is bad.
Every muscle in my body tenses in anticipation of a fight. This man is a criminal. And we’re in a bed together. I’m clothed, but the thin fabric hardly seems like any barrier at all.
“Last time I’m telling you, woman,” he says in a brooding grumble. “Get some sleep before I knock you out myself.”
I’m not sure how I can tell, but my instincts assure me it’s an idle threat. For all the scowls and posturing, Tommy Donati has yet to do a single thing to hurt me. The reminder helps me relax a bit, though I’m well aware our limited interactions aren’t any real predictor. Technically, this man held me at gunpoint and has me in handcuffs. The fact that I’m not totally terrified of him has got to be a testament to my exhaustion. Once I get some rest, I’ll go back to feeling appropriately petrified of the man. I can’t allow myself to be fooled by a tiny bit of kindness.
Men like Tommy and Biba should never be underestimated.
If I am, in fact, not a prisoner, I’d do best to get myself out of here at the earliest opportunity. Who knows what might happen if they figure out who I really am. Even without that knowledge, they could easily decide to use me as a bargaining chip, but knowing my paternity could make me a full-fledged prisoner and subject to who-knows-what horrors.
Let’s stay focused on the positives, or you’ll never get any sleep.
Right. Sleep.
Hopefully, this go-around will be less traumatizing than the last. With my luck lately, chances are slim.
CHAPTER 7
TOMMY
Something wakes me.I’m instantly on guard until I remember the absurd situation I’m in. Handcuffed to a thief in my own home. I couldn’t make this shit up if I tried. I’m certain she’s inadvertently woken me, which is just one of the many reasons I don’t do sleepovers. Rest is a crucial part of my routine. If I don’t get sleep, my whole day can be thrown off course, and I can’t see how anyone sleeps with someone else in the bed moving and making noises.
I will say, however, that I fell asleep with Danika tucked against me much more easily than I expected. I thought I’d lie here all night, counting my heartbeats until morning. I don’t think ten minutes passed before I was out cold. Her body relaxing into mine had some kind of hypnotic effect on me—as if her touch muted the constant buzz of my thoughts.
I didn’t check and recheck all my guns before bed. My phone isn’t plugged in on my nightstand next to my watch, which means I’ll have to charge it in the morning, and my morning will already be chaotic without my workout and breakfast. All those things and more would normally peck at me incessantly until I give in and do something about the situation, but with Danika next to me, I experienced an unfamiliar sense of acceptance.
It could be a fluke. Whatever the cause, it’s the same reason I’m not entirely upset about being woken up and am halfway back asleep when a whimper from Danika stirs me wide awake. She makes the soft but unsettling sound again, prompting me to prop myself on my elbow as best I can since that arm is the one handcuffed to the bed.
“Danika,” I murmur softly but firmly. “Wake up, Danika.”
She lets out a painful mewl that carves a chunk out of my soul.
“Jesus, don’t cry. I can’t handle crying.” I gently shake her shoulder and finally get a response from her.
