Page 29 of Dancing with the Devil

“Did you report him to the police?”

I nodded. “I did, but he got there before me and I was sentenced to three years. My lawyer suggested I plead insanity and I did—trusting him—but turns out it was only an excuse for him and my mom to send me off to a mental hospital for two years after I spent a year in jail.”

“But he forced himself on you, wasn’t it self defense?”

“Well…” I sighed, turning my body completely to him as I brought one leg up onto the seat. “Since he didn’t get that far to actually go through with it, there wasn’t any proof. His lawyer played the ‘she was drunk’ card and yeah. That’s about it.”

“Why would your mother want to send you away?”

“Because she thought that anyone capable of what I did—even though it was self defense—was mentally ill. She said that I wasn’t…” I trailed off, feeling the bile rise in my throat. I dropped my eyes to my lap, clearing my throat. “She had her own reasons, I guess,” I shrugged my shoulders looking up at him.

I could sense a hint of pity but he masked it, speaking up. “Do you remember anything about him? His name? What he looked like?”

I glanced away, swallowing hard at the mere thought of him. “Just his name. Loren Winston.”

I looked back at him to see him simply staring at me and I awkwardly shifted in my seat. “God, I’ve traumatized you,” I breathed. “You okay?” I asked, pressing the back of my fingers against his forehead but he moved his head back.

“You’re way more interesting than I had anticipated, NirahJoy.”

“Thanks?” I smiled with uncertainty.

When he simply tilted his head a little to the side, still staring at me, I turned to the door and unlocked it. He was making me feelthingsthat I did not want to feel. That Icould notfeel.

“Come on,” I said, looking back at him.

“You’re driving me to the club.”

“And you can’t do that yourself, why?”

“Because I haven’t had anything to eat in twenty-four hours, and I think I’m about to pass out,” I pulled at the neckline of my dress.

“You haven’t eaten in twenty-four hours?”

“Well no, considering that I had men pounding at my door before 8 am yesterday, and then when I tried getting some coffee this morning, a weird stalker guy decided to force me into his car.”

“Force? Coming from the woman in the driver’s seat—if anythingyouforcedme.”

“Yeah, yeah,” I rolled my eyes. “Don’t sound so offended.”

He got out, so I climbed over onto the passenger’s seat. I buckled up and he opened the door, leaning both of his forearms onto the roof of the car.

He lowered his head, staring at me. “Did you just step on my seats with your boots?” he rhetorically asked and I could’ve sworn the muscle under his right eye twitched.

I looked down at his seat and saw the mark the bottom of my shoe left behind.

I placed my hand on the seat, slowly wiping it away. “Sorry,” I awkwardly smiled with my heart thudding in my chest, and he grabbed my arm, throwing it onto my lap before sliding into the car.

His voice was a low murmur. “If you were anyone else, I would’ve had your head on a silver platter.”

I practically melted into my seat as he started the engine.Oopsie.

He drove off and when I pulled out my cellphone, I noticed an alarming amount of text messages from Silvia and Jordan. And a few calls. Even from Marco. I texted all of them, letting them know that I was perfectly fine and that they didn’t have to worry about me.

After some time I looked up since the drive felt a littletoolong. “Wait. Where are you taking me?”

“My house,” he answered, looking over at me and my heart dropped. I pulled the neckline of dress back and forth, breathing heavily. “Oh god,” I said, looking at him, then out the passenger window, then back at him. “You’re kidnapping me,” I breathlessly whispered and he didn’t say a word. “I run from one kidnapper and land in the arms of another.”

“I’m not kidnap—”