A ragged exhale leaves him and he shakes his head. “Fine. I’ll untie you.”
Relief floods me and I watch as he unravels the rope from my wrists. The moment it drops to the floor, I’m shaking my hands out. Rotating my wrists and stretching my fingers.
Yet again he grabs hold of my arm and practically drags me over to the bathroom.
“I’ll be at the door the entire time,” he tells me as he shoves me into the tiny room. “Hurry up.”
My gaze meets his in the mirror’s reflection. “Aren’t you going to shut the door?”
He slowly shakes his head. “No.”
Asshole.
With a sigh I go to the toilet, relieved when he turns his back to me just as I’m about to pull down my sweats. Once I’ve handled my business, I wash my hands, glancing in the mirror to examine my face. There are little flakes of black beneath my eyes thanks to me crying off most of my mascara earlier but otherwise, I look fine. Hair is a little mussed.
Huh. You’d never know I’m currently being held against my will.
The moment the water shuts off, Seamus is in the bathroom, crowding me. “Let’s go.”
He doesn’t bother waiting for me to answer him. Instead, he grabs hold of my arm, squeezing so tight it hurts, and leads me toward the small table where I’m going to eat my meal. He shoves me into the folding chair, taking a step away to glare at me.
“Do not move from this spot.” He thrusts his finger in my face.
I stare at him, trying my best to keep my expression impassive. “I won’t.”
He keeps watching me and I return his glare, satisfied when he’s the one to look away first. He turns and goes to the kitchen, turning the burner off and grabbing a bowl from the cabinet. I watch him, my brain going a million miles a second as I try to figure out how to get out of this.
Away from him.
And back to my husband.
He pours me a glass of water. Grabs a box of saltine crackers. Opens a random drawer and selects a spoon out of it. An idea forms, and my stomach bounces with nerves as my gaze goes to the front door.
There are no complicated locks on it from what I can tell. Just a dead bolt and the simple lock in the doorknob. I’m really not that far from the door either. I could sprint to it in seconds, but I have to count on distracting Seamus long enough that he won’t lunge after me.
I have to surprise him.
Hurt him.
He’s taller and broader, but I’m younger and maybe even faster? I don’t remember him being into exercise or watching what he ate. While we were in Paris together, he would eat whatever he wanted, patting his stomach after every meal and rambling on how he’d eventually need to stop eating so much with me. That I gave him a healthy appetite with all the sex we were having.
Ugh. Not like we did it that much but maybe for him, it was a lot.
“Here you go,” Seamus says, pulling me from my thoughts. I glance up to find him standing beside me, leaning down to set the steaming bowl of soup onto the table and directly in front of me. “Let me get you your spoon and crackers.”
He walks away before I can say anything and I stare at the golden liquid within the bowl. The wispy tendrils of steam wafting upward, warming my face. It’s hot.
Really hot.
He returns in seconds, settling the spoon beside my bowl. Dropping the crackers on the table. “I’ll get your water.”
Frowning, I watch him walk back into the tiny kitchen yet again, marveling at his lack of efficiency. A woman would’ve been capable of bringing everything at once to the table. It’s as if the man can’t multitask.
But that’s okay. His stalling is allowing me to formulate my plan and work up the nerve to execute it. If it goes wrong, there will be hell to pay. If it goes right…
I’ll be free.
Taking a deep, shuddering breath, I reach for the bowl, my fingers curving around it lightly. This is it, I tell myself. My heart is in my throat, making it hard for me to breathe and my fingers are trembling.