Page 12 of Redemption (Favorite Malady Duet #2)

ABIGAIL

Now

“ F ine,” Dane bites out, green eyes blazing. “You want to know how I became GentAnon? I borrowed your laptop and found your erotica.”

I gape at him. “ Borrowed? You mean you stole it. How? When?”

His gaze cuts away for an instant before snapping back to mine. “I went into your apartment and found your laptop two months ago. Is that what you want to hear?”

“You went in? ” I press, forcing him to confront the softer language he’s selecting over the harsh truth. “So, you broke into my home more than once.”

“I told you that you don’t want to hear this.” He says it like I’m the unreasonable one.

I narrow my eyes at him. “Oh, I absolutely do. I want you to hear it. Listen to how crazy this is. How can you expect me to love you after everything you’ve done to me?”

He glares at me with open defiance. “Everything I’ve done has been for you.

I had to make sure you truly wanted me. The first night we met—the night you don’t remember—you told me you wanted to be overpowered.

Forced. I had to know that was real before I acted out the dark fantasy that we share.

Both of us, Abigail. You wanted everything that I offered you.

Or have you forgotten how many orgasms I gave you? ”

My fingers shake with the rage that rushes through my system, so I curl them into fists.

“You know I orgasm when a man forces himself on me. I told you what happened with Tom on the night of my debutante ball. How he did it again and again, and how ashamed I felt for letting it happen. You assaulted me, Dane.”

His head jerks to the side in a staunch refusal of my accusation. “You’re not thinking clearly,” he says roughly. “I am nothing like him. I protect you from men like him. Just like I protected you from your neighbor, Ron.”

The memory of Dane’s blood-splattered face flashes across my mind. He’d said he was going to talk to Ron, and he returned covered in mud and blood.

“What did you do to him?” I ask, breathless with dawning horror.

Dark brows draw together in forbidding slashes. “I made sure he’ll never touch you again.”

“What does that mean?” I demand, voice going shrill despite my efforts to remain calm and rational.

“It means I’ll do what’s necessary to keep you safe,” he snaps back, his composure slipping, too. “This conversation is over.”

“I don’t think so,” I hiss. “You don’t get to tell me when to shut up. You don’t control me. Not anymore.”

He scowls. “I never tried to control you. How many times do I have to tell you that I want you just as you are? I expect obedience when we fuck because that’s what we both like. We’re perfectly compatible.”

“You’re delusional.”

His face goes cold again, his eyes unnervingly calculating.

“I won’t entertain this conversation further. Rail at me if you want. Get it out of your system. But I’m no longer participating.”

I clench my jaw shut to hold in a scream of impotent rage. Shouting at him will get me nowhere. He seems convinced that I’m hysterical, irrational. After he stalked and kidnapped me.

Playing into his characterization of my behavior will only make him more convinced that he’s right to hold me here against my will.

I watch in stony silence as he takes the plates to the sink. The dishes clatter a bit more loudly than necessary as he cleans up, tension clear in every taut line of his powerful body. And yet, he manages to carry out the chore with a completely blank expression.

He doesn’t ask for my help as he dries the pans and puts everything neatly back in its place.

Something about the domesticity of the situation brings his psychopathy into sharp relief. He’s holding me against my will, but instead of using violence to subdue me, he’s cooking and cleaning for me. As though I’m a guest rather than his captive.

He truly thinks I’ll just get over his heinous crimes against me. He’s acting as though we can be together like a normal couple.

If anything, he’s doting on me. In his twisted mind, he probably thinks that he’s seeing to my every need.

He’s incapable of understanding that what I need more than anything is to get away from him.

“Come with me,” he commands when the kitchen is spotless. “I have something for you.”

I cross my arms over my chest. “I don’t want it.”

His lips press to a grim line. “You’ll accept it regardless.

You don’t seem ready to accept the fact that you don’t have to work anymore to make ends meet.

I’m going to show you how I will provide for you.

You’ll learn to embrace it, even if you have always been stubborn about accepting what my money can afford us. That ends now.”

I never should’ve let him buy my drinks. I shouldn’t have accepted the fancy dress for Meadows’ wedding.

I’d been afraid that he’d wield his wealth as a weapon against me, just like my family.

I’d been right, but I hadn’t listened to my gut instincts.

My back goes ramrod straight.

“I told you that I won’t be controlled financially ever again.” It takes effort to maintain a calm, flat tone. “Whatever you have for me, I refuse to accept. You can’t buy my affection, Dane.”

He shakes his head sharply, the only sign that his irritation is breaking through his cold facade.

“This isn’t about controlling you. It never has been. I want to take care of you. You’re the one who’s insisting on misunderstanding what I’m offering. I will never leverage my money against you. What I provide doesn’t come with strings attached.”

“No, you’re misunderstanding.” He truly seems to believe what he’s saying. “You want to keep me captive. You think I’ll soften towards you if you buy me things and ensure my comfort. That’s controlling behavior, Dane. You have to see that.”

“I will provide for you, Abigail. This isn’t a negotiation. And it’s not a manipulation. I told you from the beginning that I’m selfish. This is what I want: you, content and cared for in the way that you deserve. In time, I’ll prove to you that I don’t expect anything in return.”

His eyes glitter with icy determination. “Now, are you going to come with me, or am I going to have to carry you?”

I fix him with an imperious stare that’s icy enough to match his. “I don’t intend to be spanked like an unruly child again. I’ll walk.”

He shrugs. “It’s your choice.”

I hold back the tirade that it’s not a choice at all. He will take me wherever he wants to go, despite my protests. My only autonomy in this situation is whether or not I maintain some semblance of dignity.

He turns his back on me and strides out of the kitchen. It’s a small mercy that he didn’t reach for me, but I don’t dare hesitate to follow him in case he changes his mind about touching me.

We go through the labyrinthine rooms again, making our way back to the cavernous, wood-paneled entry hall. He silently leads me up the grand staircase, and I realize we’re heading toward his bedroom.

My steps falter. “I’m not going to have sex with you, if that’s what you’re thinking.”

His shoulders stiffen, but he doesn’t turn to face me when he replies, “I’m not taking you to my bedroom.” He opens one of the doors we passed on our way down the long corridor with the portraits. “I converted this guest room into a studio for you while you were sleeping.”

I hate the longing that tugs at my heart, even as my stomach churns. Dane knows my deepest dreams of being a successful artist, and he’s using them against me.

“If you think I’ll want you just because you’ve provided a space for me to paint, you’re mistaken. This isn’t a gift, Dane. It’s a betrayal.”

He finally turns to face me, pivoting in the center of the room, just beside the easel he’s already set up alongside a table of paints.

“I’ll tolerate your barbed comments because I appreciate the fact that the way I pursued you was unconventional. If you would take a moment to see things from my perspective, perhaps you wouldn’t be so prickly.”

I lift my brows, incredulous. “And what is your perspective? What mental gymnastics have you done to justify all of this?”

He lifts one finger. “You were so drunk that you forgot our initial meeting, so I couldn’t ask you out.

” He lifts a second finger before I can respond.

“You refused to make eye contact when I came into the café, but I knew you wanted me.” A third finger goes up.

“We both have dark, kinky fantasies that defy social norms. I had to be sure that you really wanted what I had to offer before I risked showing you my true self.”

I cross my arms over my chest. “You’re right.

You are selfish. Everything you’re describing is about what you want, about keeping you safe from judgment.

You could’ve been vulnerable with me. You could have put yourself on the line and asked me out on a date.

I should’ve had the chance to truly choose you, but you took that away from me.

Everything we’ve shared has been a lie, a manipulation to get me into your bed. ”

He waves his arms at the room in a jerky gesture.

“Getting you into my bed would’ve been easy.

Does this look like seduction to you? I’m offering you everything you could ever want.

I’ll offer you the world, Abigail. And I’ve offered you myself in return.

My real, frightening, unmasked self. You saw what I am at my core, and you wept in ecstasy. ”

It finally registers that he must think he’s made himself vulnerable. He keeps saying that he’s revealed his true self to me in a way he’s never shown anyone.

But that doesn’t make him any less monstrous.

I just couldn’t see him clearly before. I didn’t have all the horrific facts to make a rational assessment of him.