Page 17 of Not Another Dark Romance

“If you want to piss, it’s gotta be like this,” he insists. “I don’t trust that you didn’t use that whole sex thing as a distraction to convince me to let you go free, so you better not pull anything.”

Interesting… he didn’t believe me that this really is a fantasy of mine? Is that why he didn’t want to go along with it? I guess I’ll just have to try harder to show him the whole captive–captor dynamic turns me on… among other things.

“You know, you’re going to have to unzip me and hold my dick then, right? My hands are still cuffed. I knew you wanted to touch me all along.” I laugh as I point out the flaw in his plan.

“God-fucking-damn it,” Zane mutters. “Fine. I’ll uncuff your hands, but your legs are staying bound to this chair. You so much as move to make an escape and your face is going to meet the concrete. Got it?”

“Yeah, yeah. So scary. I also need to take out my contacts.” Zane steps behind me to uncuff my hands. I shake my wrists out before removing the contacts quickly, placing them in his hand to throw away for me, then I unbutton my own pants—how boring—and relieve myself. The second I’m done, he’s handing me my glasses and barking orders. “Zip yourself back up now and sit back down.”

“And so bossy.” I smirk and quickly take off my beanie to see if that helps my headache at all before I do as I’m told.

Zane freezes, staring at my hair. “It’s pink.”

“Yeah, don’t you remember from the restaurant?” I remind him. I know the hat was on, but my curls were visible before I went all incognito stalker-mode.

He shakes his head as if trying to focus and grabs both my arms to tug them behind my back. He ignores my question, and the handcuffs click back around my wrists seconds later before he dumps the bucket in the sink. Thank God it won’t have to smell like my urine down here. That would totally kill the vibe.

“Really? What’s the rush?” I complain. “I didn’t even try to escape. You could’ve given me another minute to snuggle Piet.”

“I’m not taking any chances.” His voice is growing more gravelly as he must be getting tired. “I can’t.”

“You know, this would be a lot more comfortable if you just let me sleep upstairs. I promise I’ll stay on my side of the bed.”

“No. You’re staying right here. This is where you’re sleeping.”

“Ugh, but this is worse than an airplane seat. At least those are slightly padded. Oh, you could use your sex cuffs to cuff me to your bed! I don’t care what you say; no way it’s your first time doing that.”

“Goodnight, Mason.” He completely dismisses me, backing away once he confirms I’m cuffed again, leaving me down here with Piet as he walks up the stairs. The snick of the door shutting behind him echoes throughout the basement, and I know that’s likely all I’ll see of him until morning.

“Well, I guess we need to think of a better plan to get him to realize we’re serious about this, huh?”

Piet lets out a sleepy sigh as he lays his head back on my feet, and I try to get some shut-eye.

“Mason… Mason, wake up…” I hear the voice calling my name, but it sounds like it’s far away.

“Mmm?” I hum in response as I slowly wake up, blinking as Zane’s sexy face that’s leaning toward me comes into focus through my glasses. “What’s going on?”

He examines me for a moment before responding. “Fuck, okay, you’re okay. I was worried you were dead.”

My head is throbbing again, and my body aches from sitting in this chair. Last night comes back to me in full force as I remember I’m supposed to be a kidnapped victim who will soon be dead. Which, wait… “You were worried? I thought you wanted me dead?”

I knew he was a liar.

“I do! Just… not yet. I don’t have time to deal with a dead body today. I have to go to work soon.”

“Sure, whatever you say.” I chuckle at the absurdity of that comment. When is it really a good time to kill a person?

“I’m serious,” he huffs. “Now, how much does Pete eat? I already took him out and moved his water down here while you were sleeping like a baby.”

“Such hospitality,” I joke. “He eats two cups. I, on the other hand, prefer eggs and toast for breakfast with my coffee black. Sausage if you’re feeling extra generous.”

“Come on, Pete, let’s go eat some breakfast,” Zane calls to my dog, disappearing upstairs with Piet trotting after him like the world’s dumbest little accomplice. Zane isn’t even saying his name right. All while I’m left alone in the basement with a pounding head, a stiff neck, and the growing realization that my dog has adjusted to my kidnapping way too quickly.

“Cool,” I mutter to the empty basement. “Awesome. Love that for me.”

Cabinets are opening and closing above me, and I hear the telltale signs of Piet eating his breakfast. It’s all so strange for a man who keeps insisting he’s going to kill me. Not that I think he’ll follow through with it.

What murderer brings your dog over to watch your execution?