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Noah pulls a black T-shirt over his head, the fabric stretching across his chest before settling into place. His lips quirk up at one corner—not quite a smile, but something more dangerous.
"I don't think anything. I observe." He takes a step closer. "And what I observed was you checking me out while claiming to hate me."
"I do hate you," I insist, holding my ground despite every instinct telling me to back away. "You kidnapped me. You're holding me prisoner. The fact that you're attractive doesn't change that."
The moment the words leave my mouth, I regret them. His eyes light up with triumph.
"So you admit it," he says, and a full smile breaks across his face. The transformation is startling—his features softening for just a moment before hardening again. "You find me attractive."
"That's not—" I stammer, mortified. "I didn't mean?—"
Noah throws his head back and laughs—actually laughs—the sound rich and unexpected in the tense space between us. It's the first genuine emotion I've seen from him, and it catches me off guard.
"For someone who performs in front of thousands, you're a terrible liar," he says, shaking his head. "But don't worry, Evelyn. Your secret's safe with me."
"There is no secret," I growl, hating how defensive I sound. "And you're flattering yourself if you think?—"
"Flattering myself?" He steps closer, close enough that I smell the clean scent of his soap. "No, sweetheart. I don't need to flatter myself. Your eyes do all the talking for you."
CHAPTER 8
Ididn't plan to act like such an asshole. But watching her try to escape—watching her desperation—it does something to me. Makes me want to push. Makes me want to see how far I can take this before she breaks.
Her face flushes red with anger and embarrassment as I stand before her, half-naked and unashamed. The towel sits low on my hips and I can see her eyes dart down before she forces them back to my face.
"You're disgusting," she spits.
"And you're lying." I step closer, watching her retreat until her back hits the wall. "To yourself most of all."
I shouldn't enjoy this—the way her chest rises and falls with quick, angry breaths. The way her eyes flash with defiance even as her body betrays her. But I do. God help me, I fucking do.
"You know what?" I say, my voice dropping lower. "If you want to leave so badly, all you have to do is ask."
Her eyes widen with hope, and something inside me twists with guilt. But I crush it down. Hope is dangerous for her right now.
"Really?" she asks.
I lean in, close enough to see the flecks of darker blue in her eyes. "Just ask, Evelyn. Ask me nicely if you can leave."
She swallows hard. "Can I leave?"
I smile, slow and deliberate. "No."
The hope in her eyes dies, replaced by pure hatred. It shouldn't be beautiful, but it is.
"You're a monster," she says, each word like ice.
"I never claimed to be anything else." I step back, giving her space to breathe. "But I'm the monster keeping you alive right now."
She pushes past me, her shoulder deliberately knocking into mine as she crosses the room. She sits down on the edge of the bed, her hands gripping the mattress so tightly her knuckles turn white.
"I hate you," she says, her voice tight with frustration.
"That's fine." I turn away, reaching for clothes in my dresser. "Hate keeps people sharp. Keeps them alive."
When I turn back, she's staring at the floor, her shoulders slumped in defeat. It's not a good look on her. Makes something in my chest ache in a way I don't recognize.
"Evelyn," I say, softer than I intended.