I nod again, my head still averted. Without warning he grabs hold of my chin with his other hand, forcing me to look at him. “Do you understand?”
“Yes,” I whisper, when I realize my nods aren’t a good enough answer for him.
“Good,” he whispers back, a faint smile curling his lips.
It’s hard to wrap my head around how attractive he is, and how captivated I was by him. Because I can’t deny it. Seamus McTiernan is a darkly handsome man. No wonder I fell for him.
But I’m not attracted to him any longer. Not at all. My heart…
Belongs to another.
“You’ve changed,” he tells me nonchalantly as we walk down a narrow hall. My gaze is everywhere, taking in my surroundings. It looks like I’m in a small apartment. A two-bedroom, two-bathroom unit, from what I’ve seen so far. There’s a small living room with a black leather couch and a big screen TV. Beyond that is a very small dining area with a small square table and two steel gray folding chairs. And then there’s the kitchen. It’s narrow, the wood cabinets a dark golden oak. Everything appears dated. Coming from another time, and there’s a musty scent lingering in the air.
As if the apartment has sat unused and locked up for a long time.
“Where are we?” I ask, knowing he won’t say.
Seamus chuckles. “If I told you, I’d have to kill you.”
I’ve heard that saying before, but I never actually believed the person saying it, meant it.
Definitely believe Seamus though.
I decide to change the subject.
“What do you mean, I’ve changed?”
“You used to be so—agreeable.” He smiles, and I remember thinking how sweet he looked when he did that.
Now all I can think is how sinister his expression is.
“I’ve made you some soup,” he says before I can say anything else. He steers me into the kitchen, where I see the small pot on the stove, golden liquid within. “Chicken noodle.”
The scent wafting from the open pot has my stomach growling. “Smells good.”
“It should be ready.” His gaze finds mine. “Can I let you go and trust that you won’t run away from me?”
I’m conscious of the door being so close to where we’re standing, and I wonder what happened to that gun he had with him earlier. “I won’t,” I say. “But I do need to use the bathroom.”
“Wait until after you eat.”
The fact that he’s feeding me soup actually has me needing to go even worse. The thought of consuming all that liquid maybe, on my already burdened bladder?
“I really need to go now,” I tell him, pushing past the humiliation of talking about bodily functions.
Thank God I’m not on my period. Talk about a mess.
He studies me for a moment. “I want to trust you won’t do anything.”
I lift my hands out toward him. “I can’t use the bathroom without you untying my hands.”
“I could assist you.”
Absolutely not. “I don’t think that would be a good idea.”
His expression darkens. “I really don’t care what you think.”
Swallowing hard, I go quiet, pressing my thighs together. There is no way I can eat soup right now. If he doesn’t let me go to the bathroom soon, I’m going to pee my pants.