Page 15

I chew the end of my pen, thinking if there’s anything else I can squeeze into the day, but honestly, I think with the head injury, what I’ve already got to do might be too much. I should maybe try and take it easy today.

Images of Austin come to me suddenly and so vividly. Maybe he’s an early riser like me, and he’s waiting for me to come down to talk to him. Is he lonely? Hungry? Sleeping okay?

Sleep had evaded me last night. Thoughts of robbers and killers creeping their way into my house and up to my bedroom seeped through my subconscious until all I could do was listen for every creak and groan of this old house. Most likely because of the man locked up in my basement, but honestly, I kept feeling like there was someone walking about the house.

I’ve never been scared to live alone and never had an issue with creaky floorboards and drafts. I’ve been taking care of myself and Danny for so long that my childhood fears were long gone. But last night felt different. Maybe it really was just because Austin was here. Or maybe someone had come looking for him and decided to search my house in the middle of the night.

My plan is to subtly interrogate him today. To find out if I should expect any unwanted visitors. Then maybe I can search for that person online, just so I know what they look like.

I bite my thumbnail as I pace the living room. What in the hell am I doing? The bright light of day was shining through the window and showing me all the fucked-up things I’d done in the last twenty-four hours. What was I doing kidnapping a man who wouldobviouslyhave people out looking for him? I bet they’re on their way here now. I’d putmyself and Danny in irrevocable danger.

But he does like me. His actions last night proved that. Maybe I could swing this in my favor just quick enough before anyone realizes where he is. I lift my fingers to the scab on my forehead and wince. I’m lucky; the injury could have been so much worse.

He did help me when I got knocked out, so I can hold faith that he is, at least, a tiny bit of a good person. But only because he wouldn’t let me die on the floor. And if we’re thinking clearly and objectively, which I absolutely am when it comes to this man, that bar is too low to be set as a standard for men.

I do have one other thing in my favor. And the thing is that I’m a woman. And the thing about being a woman is that, more often than not, our ideas and actions are overlooked by others. And who would suspect a fitness vlogger of kidnapping? In the words of Elle Woods, our lord and savior, exercise gives us endorphins, and endorphins make us happy. Happy people just don’t kill their husbands.

And no, Austin Black is not my husband, not my boyfriend, or my lover.

But the last option has crossed my mind. Woah. No. No. No. Thanks very much.We’ll call time out on that thought.

My head thumped from my thoughts ping-ponging back and forth, relentlessly swinging between one possible outcome and another. I need to calm down, stick to my routine, and follow my list.

After quickly checking that the lock and deadbolt to the basement are still in place, I head to the kitchen to make breakfast.

I unlock the door, take a deep breath, and head down the stairs carrying two plates. I always think meals are much better shared and even with a reluctant house guest, it’s important to keep up good manners.

“Morning, Killer,” Austin’s throaty voice sounds out.

His eyes roam down my pink silky sleep shorts andstrappy top. The lace trim is black and makes me feel pretty, even barefaced, with my hair poking out at all angles. My first reaction is to scrunch my body and cower. His eyes on me feel like he’s looking at his next meal, wondering which piece of me to bite first. Heat builds low in my core without permission, and I can’t help but take him in as well.

His dark hair is mussed from sleep, his face perfectly at ease, as if he hadn’t just slept with a chain around his waist that connects him to my hot water pipe. He’s removed his shirt since last night, his strong chest exposed as the blanket covers just below his waist. His abs are visible. I can’t help myself. He is fucking built to perfection. I have no doubt we could work out together. Those muscles aren’t just for show; this guy is strong—all the more reason to keep him chained up.

He smirks, and my eyes are drawn to his as he arches an eyebrow. I ignore it.

“Good morning. Scrambled egg on toasted rye, spinach, and cherry tomatoes.”

“If your method of torture is a good night’s sleep and delicious food, you’re doing a great job.”

I hand him the plate cautiously, and he takes it just as gently, bowing his head a little with a smirk that could melt my panties clean off, if I were wearing any, that is.

I pull up my chair and tuck in. I’d forgone cutlery, thinking it was probably sensible not to hand a knife to the man I was holding in my basement. So I pick up the toast and take a big bite, watching as Austin does the same.

In less than three seconds, an audible groan escapes him.

“Fuck . . . what is that? It’s delicious.”

I try to contain the twitch in my cheek pulling at my lips. “I put turmeric in. It’s good for your blood pressure, and it’s said to help with muscle soreness after working out.”

He nods, taking another bite. “There’s something else...”

“Chili flakes. Just a sprinkle.”

“It’s the best breakfast I’ve had in a while,” he says, taking another enormous mouthful.

I keep eating, chewing each bite, and sitting quietly. I know it’s not sane to want the approval of my captive, but I just can’t help myself. When I hear him mutter, “I need a new chef,” I almost jump for joy. I’m damn good at my job, and although cooking isn’t fundamentally what I do, it’s an intrinsic part of my business, and offering recipes is something I’ve been looking to do more of.

Feeling the need to explain myself, I say, “I, uh, have things I need to do today. But I’ll be back at lunchtime with some more food.”