Page 61 of Drowning in Darkness

I want to make him say my name like that each and every day, like it’s a prayer and curse all wrapped into one.

I wrinkle my nose. “Hypothetically speaking, if the abductee had no idea how to cook, what would ‘kidnapped in a mountain lodge’ orientation day involve?”

His eyebrow lifts. “Kidnapped orientation day?”

“I assume there’s a schedule.”

“There isn’t. There wasn’t even a plan.”

“And yet here I am.”

“Here you are.”

“Bored kidnappees make problematic hostages. Idle hands and all that. Let me make some suggestions.”

“This isn’t camp.”

“For example.” I begin counting on my fingers. “Tour of the property. Emergency exits.”

“Already covered.”

“Health and safety briefing.”

“I’m listening.”

I grin as I pull him into my nonsense. “And perhaps a practical demonstration on how not to poison my captor while attempting scrambled eggs.”

He doesn’t even try to hide the smile. “I think,” he says, reaching for the bedroom door, “I’ll take breakfast duty this morning, and then we’ll start with the tour.”

James holds the bedroom door open, and I follow him into the hallway, taking my time because my ribs are still protesting every movement. The lodge is even more impressive with the first golden rays of the morning. White walls and exposed oak run the length of the open-plan space, the kitchen flowing into a dining area before giving way to the enormous sitting room. Floor-to-ceiling windows frame nothing but mountains and woodland.

“It’s beautiful,” I murmur as my eyes sweep across the tall trees.

“It serves a purpose.”

“You’re incapable of accepting compliments, aren’t you?”

“I wasn’t aware the lodge was me.”

“No, but someone chose it.”

No response, and that tells me everything I need to know.

The kitchen belongs in one of those magazines people leave on coffee tables to make visitors think they’re sophisticated. Dark cabinets, pale stone worktops, and enough gadgets to launch a small spacecraft. I stop beside an enormous coffee machine.

“I’ve found my favorite room.”

“You don’t drink coffee.”

“I love the smell, though.”

“You drink tea.”

“I admire coffee while drinking tea.”

He shakes his head as though I’ve become today’s first problem. Don’t worry. I intend to be your biggest problem.

“Such a smart mouth, sweetheart. Sit.”