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“Brilliant,” I mutter.

I drag over the wicker chair I’d been storing down here and place it by the shelves containing my gym equipment. He’ll be able to see me when he wakes up, so I sit back in the chair and wait. Any presumptions of getting comfy are thwarted as I can’t seem to sit still. Instead, I tiptoe cautiously over to him and tug on the chains one more time—they’re solid. There’s no way he’s getting out of here. Despite this, in a last-minute panic, I trap his wrists together with a cable tie.

I’m still baffled that I’ve made it this far. He’s thehead of the formidable Unseen, but really, he’s just some guy. Distracted by a pair of swinging hips and boobs squished into a crop top. It’s kind of pitiful. Sure, my behavior today has probably been a little bit of a shock. I’d only ever scowled at him or ignored him, which I’m sure irritated him even more. He didn’t know me or why I hated him.

Despite his pathetic performance earlier, I can’t let empathy dictate how this goes. I could be soft, forgiving...none of which are bad traits. But this is life or death, and I need him to do what I tell him.

He’s quiet for a while, and for a moment, I think he might be dead. Leaning into him, I get a whiff of his cologne. He smells woodsy, like pine and fire, like a man who knows how to take care of himself in the wilderness, which only irritates me further. His face is soft like this, almost angelic. I shake my head, reminding myself that this man is cold and calculated. Despite his warm brown eyes and dark hair, he is the devil wrapped up in the trappings of a hardworking man. Even now, passed out, mouth slightly parted, he’s cruelly handsome.

He stirs a little, his breathing quickening as his chest rises and falls more rapidly. Maybe he’s waking up for real this time. I’m not sure I want to be here when he finally realizes his situation. I’m worried he’s going to be aggressive and violent, but mostly, I don’t think I could handle him yelling. He’s going to be furious when he realizes he wasn’t dreaming.

I bite my thumbnail and glance around the room one more time. The space is soundproof to a point. We are out in the middle of nowhere, which will explain why I was more than happy to drag an unconscious man out of my vehicle in the middle of the day.

Despite the location being ideal, my nerves get the better of me when I think he may scream out for help. I know I’d give in quickly and let him go. And I can’t do that without getting what I need first.

His fingers grip the chains once more and tug. The cabletie cuts into his skin as he tries to maneuver his way around the restraints.

My mouth is dry, but my palms are sweating uncontrollably. Just wake up, get this part over with, and then I can calm down. I’ll make a nice smoothie to treat myself with some extra peanut butter. Just what I deserve for kidnapping. A nice little treat.

His eyes flutter open, and he rolls onto his back. He’s still for a moment and then lifts his cable-tied wrists, inspecting them slowly.

“So I wasn’t dreaming . . . huh,” he mumbles.

“Nope . . . not dreaming,” I reply cautiously.

He’s silent as he turns his focus to me. I feel the heat of his gaze the second his eyes land on mine.

“How are you feeling?” I ask, like a nurse to their patient.

He pauses for a moment to consider the question. “Not as bad as I thought I would.”

I nod, swallowing again. I need some water to fix this dry-mouth situation.

“And how are you? You look a little peaky,” he adds, staring at me.

Oh god, I may just let him go now. Does kidnapping work like the five-second rule when you drop food on the floor? You can still eat it as long as you pick it up in five seconds. Ten seconds if it’s really something delicious. Maybe if I back out within a minute of him waking up, we can just pretend that this never happened and go back to me scowling at him at Squeeze the Day.

Why isn’t he scared? Why isn’t he screaming out and asking who I am and what he’s doing here?

“I’m fine, thank you,” I clip.

“First kidnapping?” he asks, his eyes focused on me.

“I don’t make a habit of it.”

He rolls back onto his back and closes his eyes. “It’s not for everyone.”

He looks goddamn relaxed. Like he hasn’t just been kidnapped and this is all going to just work out. But he’s not in charge here. I am.

“Do you want to know why you’re here?”

“I’m sure you’ll let me know when you’re ready,” he replies dismissively.

My heart goes from a mile a minute to feeling as if it has stopped altogether. He thinks I’m weak-willed and probably going to let him go any minute. Well, guess what? I have the stamina of a racehorse. I take on gym bros every damn day, and half the comment sections on my videos are full of steroid-guzzling gym junkies telling me how I should improve my form. I can handle an arrogant gangster who has nothing better to do than take a nap.

So I channel my inner bitch. I brought him here for a reason. He wants to be patient? Well, guess what? I can play that game, too.

“I'll tell you what, we’ll talk about it when you’re less tired.” I push my fingers out in front of me to inspect my nail polish. I should really redo these before my next video. “There’s enough food and water for a few days. Your bucket is over there.” I point to the corner of the room.