Page 29 of Desperate Crimes

I am talking about actual psychological damage.

Stockholm syndrome via spicy literature.

Diagnosis. Book-brained and delusional.

“What do you want from me?” I ask instead of answering.

I’m trying to be strong, stern, but my voice is softer now.

Too breathy. Too wanting.

And I hate that he can probably hear it.

“My family has money,” I add quickly. “If it’s ransom you’re after?—”

“I don’t want your money.”

That stops me cold.

“What do you want then?” I cough a little, my words getting stuck in my throat.

“If you need water, there’s another bottle to your right. Snacks, too. And if you need the bathroom, it’s on the other side of the room.”

“Great. I’ll probably break my leg getting there,” I mutter, annoyed now, but I’m not even sure if it’s at him or myself.

“The lights will come on after I leave. But don’t even think about trying to escape, Princess,” he says, then his voice gets even deeper. “You can’t.”

“Yeah?” I scoff, trying to mask the chill that snakes down my spine. “You don’t know that. You don’t know anything about me.”

My voice comes out sharper than I mean it to, brittle with nerves, but I hold my ground.

Even if I’m sitting in the dark.

Even if I’m wrapped in uncertainty, in a place I didn’t choose, in a room I don’t recognize, owned by a man I haven’t even seen.

“I know you,” he says, and it’s too calm.

Low. Even. Confident in a way that makes my skin prickle.

“Trust me, Princess,” he continues. “I know just about everything about you—and what I don’t? I plan on learning.”

I shiver. Not from cold. From something far more dangerous.

I hate how those words sound in his mouth.

No, that’s a lie.

I think I love it.

God help me.

Chapter Seven-Leanna

“Relax,” he says, tone slipping into something almost soothing. “The sedative I gave you might leave you feeling queasy.”

My stomach twists. “Sedative? You drugged me!”

“Of course. I couldn’t have you waking up before we got here, could I?”