Page 146 of Invisible Bars

“You got taste. That’s my favorite genre too. I just don’t ever really have time for it.”

“S-Shame,” I mumbled.

“Exactly. So, tonight I’m making time. So get dressed, and I’ll come get you around five o’clock. I’d advise you to take a nap so you don’t fall asleep during the movies. I hate when folks do that shit.”

“Likewise,” I muttered with a smirk. “But I t-think I’m good.”

Imanio’s eyes dipped to the towel again, not even trying to be subtle.

His jaw flexed, but he nodded. “Aight. Five o’clock.”

“Five o’clock,” I repeated, gripping the edge of the towel a little tighter.

He stood there for a second longer than necessary… then finally turned and left, closing the door behind him.

Whew.I finally let out the breath I’d been holding.

I was beginning to appreciate the little things he did without making a big deal out of them. For instance, he would notice when my hands were twitching more than usual and start talking about something random to distract me. He also remembered the small details, like how I hated pulp in my juice.

Honestly? I didn’t expect him to be such a gentle kidnapper. If there were Yelp reviews for that kind of situation, I’d give him a solid 3.5 out of 5. One star deducted for holding me against my will—obviously. Another half star for that time I had to use layered tissue like a broke college studentbecause someoneforgot I still bled monthly. But the mandidget me the pads and other essentials… so, 3.5 it is.

Not bad for a kidnapper with good taste and a soft spot for hygiene.

Nonetheless, I was starting to see that beneath all the money, muscle, and mystery, Imaniomight’veactually had a good heart. And worse? I was starting to trust it.

I walked over to the small collection of things Imanio had recently stocked in the room—some basic loungewear, a few outfits Dessign helped pick out, and a bag of full-sized bath and body products he bought after based on the list she made. I reached for the one she said was gonna have me smelling like a whole meal and a midnight snack.

It was a whipped body butter with soft vanilla, warm musk, and a barely-there hint of cinnamon. I smoothed it onto my freshly dried skin, and instantly my body felt like silk—soft, warm, and pampered. The scent wrapped around me in a way that made me close my eyes. I had no doubt Imanio would notice it. That thought alone made me blush.

I grabbed one of the soft matching sets from the drawer—a fitted black tank and some high-waisted lounge shorts. It was casual, but cute enough to look like I tried without tryingtoohard. The shorts hugged my hips just right, and the tank—well, the tank did what tanks do when you ain’t got on a bra.

I went to the mirror and pulled my curls up into a messy bun, letting a few strands fall around my face. It gave me that soft, effortless look. One final spritz of the body mist from the matching scent set, and I gave myself a once-over in the mirror.

Not too much. Not too little. Just enough to make someone stare… that someone being Imanio.

Five o’clock on the dot.Not five-oh-one. Not four-fifty-nine…But Five.

The knock on the door was slow and confident, as if Imanio weren’t asking for permission but simply giving me a heads-up.

Before I could even finish inhaling, the door creaked open and he strolled inside—hoodie gone, replaced with a crisp white tee.

Imanio’s eyes locked onto mine for a brief moment, then dropped toward the floor again. They lingered there for a second that stretched uncomfortably long. Every contour of his muscles was visible, a subtle reminder of the work he put in at the gym. His veins snaked their way across his forearms. Tattoos etched into his skin curled up one bicep and faded under the collar, whispering secrets that probably only a handful of people had ever been close enough to uncover. The air around him pulsed with a mix of confidence and mystery, drawing me in as I tried to decipher the layers beneath his exterior.

His gray sweatpants sat low on his hips, the waistband casually twisted—as if he had thrown them on in a rush—but the way they hung left little to the imagination. The outline of his dick made heat flicker in my core before I could suppress it.

He wore jewelry: a thick gold chain around his neck and a single diamond stud that caught my eye every time he moved. Imanio rarely wore accessories like that around me. It made him look sharper, more dangerous—like the version of him I always tried not to picture when I closed my eyes at night. But that night, he was standing right in front of me, and I was wide awake.

Imanio's brows furrowed as if confused by his own reaction, and he tilted his head slightly.

“Damn,” he muttered under his breath, barely audible. But I caught it.

My hands instinctively smoothed the front of my tank, even though there was nothing to fix.

“You look… comfortable,” he said finally, his voice thick like it had traveled through gravel.

I tucked a piece of hair behind my ear, suddenly very aware of the strand that had fallen on purpose.

“It’s just l-loungewear,” I mumbled, trying to act unfazed. “Not like I’m going anywhere.”