Page 11 of Obsessive Love

FABLE

I paced my cell, waiting for Pyrite to show up.

After we shared dinner last night, I watched him watch me until my body won the battle, and I fell asleep.

When I woke up this morning, I was back in my cell, tucked in as if my being here was normal.

The sound of the basement door echoed through the room, and I looked up to see Pyrite make his way down the steps.

Today, he was dressed in a black suit that was obviously tailored, paired with black dress shoes, and his hair hung freely.

He carried a long black bag in one hand and a black duffle bag in the other.

“You’re here to kill me finally?” I asked once he stood next to the couch.

Pyrite chuckled as he dropped the bags on the couch and turned his attention to me. “I keep telling you this isn’t that type of party,” he replied. “Why are you still in your room? Come out here and talk to me.”

“My room?” I looked around the cell and then back at him. “Sir, my room is in my house, which isn’t this place.” I crossed my arms over my chest and rolled my eyes. “As a matter of fact, where is here?”

“Kansas City.” He unbuttoned his suit jacket and then sat in the same chair he’d sat in last night.

The way he sat watching me made me self-conscious for a moment; his dark eyes freely roamed over me, and it took everything in me not to run my hand over my hair.

I probably looked a fucking mess, but shit, I was kidnapped, not on vacation; I was supposed to look crazy.

“Eight hours from home,” I said, nodding. “I was only sleeping for a few hours the first night. There was no way I slept the entire drive.”

“Two-hour plane ride,” he replied with a shrug. “And you slept longer than eight hours the first night you were here.” He rested his ankle on the opposite knee and continued to watch me. “Again, Fable, why are you still in there?”

“Because I’m locked inside,” I answered, and he shook his head.

“That door has never been locked,” Pyrite replied, and I kissed my teeth. “All you have to do is push open the door.”

Instead of arguing with him, I did as he said and was surprised when the door opened without any problems. Yes, Xoey mentioned it earlier, but I didn’t think he would keep it unlocked. “How long has it been unlocked?”

“Since you’ve been here,” he answered, then turned his attention to the bags he’d set on the couch when he first came down. “Now, I’m pretty sure I have your sizes right, but check them to make sure.”

I walked over to the bags and slowly opened them.

The duffle bag contained panties, bras, tank tops, and toiletries.

The long bag held simple outfits, such as jeans, shirts, and a few jerseys, but at the back of the bag were three dresses and two pairs of pantsuits.

I hadn’t noticed it at first, but another bag with shoes was attached to the end of the long bag.

“What’s this for?” I looked up at Pyrite but didn’t take my hands off the bag.

“Will two hours be enough time to be ready?” he asked instead of answering my question. “If it’s not, I’ll push our meeting back.”

“Meeting for what?” I questioned.

“To discuss your future.” Pyrite stood, adjusted the sleeves of his jacket, and as he moved, I noticed the butt of his gun at his waist. I had plans to run behind him when he left the basement and escape, but seeing that gun made me rethink my next step.

Getting out of here alive was the only option, so I needed to chill for a second and see where his mind was.

“Now again, will two hours be enough time?”

“How should I dress?” I asked, pointing at the bag. “It’s a lot of options here.”

“However you want.” His eyes roamed over me from head to toe, and then he licked his lips. My panties instantly were drenched at the slight hint of the fangs he wore. “I don’t doubt that you can pull off anything.”

“You’re in a suit and telling me to dress however I want?” I let out a small laugh and shook my head. “Tell me how to dress, Pyrite.”

His eyes narrowed, and I watched as his nostrils flared a few times at my demand. I’m unsure if it was my words or my tone, but whichever it was, it had him looking like he was ready to pounce. My eyes went to his lower half, and his print was obvious, and lord help me, that shit was impressive.

He took a step toward me, and I held my ground.

Never in my life had I feared a man, and even though I was here against my will, nothing about Pyrite scared me.

This had to be how Stockholm syndrome started because I knew that looking at this man, he would never hurt me.

Fuck the shit out of me and have me crying for more but never actually hurt me.

“Dress in black,” he said, looking down at me. His hand went around my throat, and he applied a slight amount of pressure. “And never give me control of shit when it comes to you unless you’re sure you can handle the results.” He licked his lips and smirked. “I’ll be back in two hours.”

Confused as to why I was so fucking turned on when I was a hundred percent sure this nigga was a killer and was going to kill me, I watched him leave.

He boldly strolled through the basement, then up the stairs, put in a code, and left without looking back.

Sighing, I went through the bags again to find what I wanted to wear.

I meant style when I asked him what he wanted me to wear.

Was this a business casual meeting or what?

The color didn’t matter, but I decided to wear red because he wanted me in black.

Inside was a pair of black slacks that I paired with a red satin button-up and a pair of black stilettos.

I grabbed everything I needed and then went back to my cell.

When I showered yesterday, I noticed a switch on the wall that allowed me to frost over the glass while I showered to give me a sense of privacy.

I handled my hygiene but was slightly annoyed when I got out of the shower because no matter how good I looked, my hair was a fucking mess.

I wrapped myself in a towel and stepped out of the bathroom to find another bag, but it was sitting on the bed.

Inside were a bunch of hair products, a blow dryer, and a flat iron.

“Thank you, Pyrite,” I said out loud.

“Never thank me for taking care of your needs,” he replied.

“Fucking serial killer,” I mumbled and shook my head. I wasn’t even surprised that he could hear me, but I was shocked that he replied. I looked around the room to see if there was a speaker I hadn’t noticed earlier, but found nothing.

I went back to the bathroom and washed my hair.

He had to have a waterless hot water tank because the temp never dropped after showering and washing my hair.

I would have to wear a wash and go for now because I doubt I have enough time to do my hair.

The products in the bag were perfect; I dressed after getting my hair together.

“You ready?” Pyrite asked. I still had no idea where the speakers were, but I didn’t care.

“Yeah,” I answered.

“The door is open,” he said.

I took a deep breath, nodded, and walked up the steps.

To my surprise, I opened the door and walked into the kitchen.

My eyes swept over the beautiful room, and I was jealous at the thought of whoever got to cook here: black cabinets, marble white counters, an oversized fridge, stove, and a large island.

“You ready?” Pyrite asked as he stepped into the kitchen.

“Who cooks here?” I ran my hand over the counters as I walked around.

“Me,” he answered. I looked over my shoulder to see him standing near the door with his hands in his pockets. My brow went up in surprise, and he smirked. “I don’t like people in my space, Fable. Home, work, nothing.”

“Yet, I’m here,” I replied, and he shrugged. I opened the fridge and nodded; it was fully stocked.

“Are you ready?” he asked.

I closed the fridge, crossed my arms, and stared him down. “Where are we going?”

“Lunch,” he replied. He took his left hand out of his pocket and extended it for me to take. “I already told you we need to discuss something.”

I looked at his hand and then at him. “You’re going to take me in public, knowing I could cause a scene?”

“Why would you cause a scene?”

“Because you kidnapped me,” I answered with a shrug. “I could run to the first person that I see and tell them that I’m being held against my will and to call the police.”

“You could, but you won't,” he said, shaking his head.

“And why wouldn’t I?”

“I doubt you want some innocent bystander’s death on your hands,” he smiled. “Because I will kill whoever with no regret.”

“You wouldn’t,” I challenged, even though a million and one alarms were sounding off in my head that told me that he would. Pyrite’s aura screamed that he was unhinged and a killer.

“Try me,” he calmly replied. His eyes sparkled with an unspoken promise, and I shook my head. “Smart decision.”

“You can’t keep me locked in here forever,” I said. For some reason, lying to him felt forbidden, and even though I loved to challenge him, stepping over that line didn’t appeal to me.

Pyrite tilted his head to the side, chuckled, then shook it. “You’re right, which is why we are going to the dining room to eat for now.”

“You had me get dressed to go eat in the damn dining room?” I yelled, and he nodded. “Why the fuck would you do that?”

“For the reasons you just said.” He pulled his hand back and shrugged. “You don’t trust me yet; until you do, you will stay here. After we eat, I’ll show you to your room.”

“I’ve seen the basement,” I said, then rolled my eyes.

“That’s not your room,” he chuckled, then walked away. “Come on, let’s eat.”