Page 254 of His To Erase

“We’ll start fresh tomorrow.” He chuckles, setting down the champagne, and walks to the door. “And we’ll deal with the hair. Actions have consequences, Anianne. You’ll learn that soon enough.”

The door clicks shut behind him and I’m left chewing a perfect piece of medium rare steak with murder in my heart and a knife still in my hand. I’m actually surprised he left me with a knife.

I’m not above eating the enemy’s food. I’ll take his dinner. I’ll wear his lace. I’ll swallow his champagne and smile while I plan how to gut him with the dessert fork. But if he so much as touches me, I’ll do whatever I have to do.

I polish off the steak and leave the champagne untouched, cuz yuck. Then I sit back in the chair, staring at the empty plate wondering if I just played right into his hands.

I stand and start pacing. I need to figure out how to get out of here. And now. I’m now so familiar with this room that I know there’s eight steps from the bed to the door, ten if I drag my feet.

I do it again, and again. Talking to myself the entire time, trying not to crawl out of my skin.

“Well, Ani,” I mutter, dragging my hands through my hair, “you’ve really outdone yourself this time.”

I glance around the room. Frank’s version of luxury is all marble and male fantasy.Barf. I check the camera in the corner again, and it’s still blinking. “Hope the view was worth it, you sick fuck.”

I check the whole bathroom for cameras, but don’t find any. So they're either hidden, or there aren't any.

“We’re going to survive this. And when we do... we’re going to burn this place to the fucking ground too.”

I wakeup to the smell of coffee and clean linen and for a moment, I forget where I am. I don’t remember falling asleep.

I look over to see a tray on the dresser and pull off the lid to find croissants, strawberries and some scrambled eggs. With a fucking mimosa. Because apparently I’m in captivity at the Ritz.

I roll my eyes.

“Oh good,” I mutter, stretching. “Room service. Is this where the robe comes with a monogrammed collar and a bullet in my spine?”

The camera blinks, and I flip it off again. The door opens without any warning, startling me enough that I almost fall out of bed.

He’s dressed like he’s hosting another brunch instead of holding me hostage in his cream sweater, dark pants, and his sleeves casually pushed up.

“Good morning, Ani.” His voice is warm. Back to the Frank I’ve known for months. The one who played prince charming, who brought me gifts, and flirted relentlessly with me at the bar.

I pull the blankets up slowly, trying to hide as much of me as I can. “Wow. The romantic breakfast tray. Did you get that idea from the same handbook that says to slap a woman before bed?”

His smile barely flickers.I really should stop provoking him, but honestly, I just can’t help it.

“You must be starving,” he says instead, stepping in like he owns the breath coming out of my mouth. “I thought we could eat together. Talk.”

“Talk?” I echo, sliding my legs off the bed and planting my bare feet on the cold floor. “About what? Whether I prefer ropes or zip ties next time?”

He laughs. And for just a second—I almost see the man I once thought I liked. He gestures toward the tray. “You still like strawberries, right?”

I glare. “Cute. Did you look that up before or after you had me kidnapped?”

He takes a slow breath, and I can tell he’s trying to stay calm. “You don’t have to fight me, Ani. This can be easy.”

I smile, but inside I’m picturing all the ways to stab him. “Easy?”

“You know, I’ve been patient,” he whispers. “More patient than you deserve.”

“That supposed to scare me?”

“No,” he says, and the mask finally cracks. “But this should.” He backhands the tray, and the food goes flying, crashing against the far wall.

I flinch as he steps closer, eyes dark now—real Frank in full fucking bloom.

“You want to talk back like a brat? Fine. But don’t forget—you’re here because I let you stay breathing.”