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To my horror though, I realized that the spoon he gave me only looked like silver, but it was plastic. Though the food smelled too good not to at least try.
I took a tentative bite, and my stomach grumbled. The stew was hot and thick, filled with oxtail and vegetables, and goddamn it was so good.
The cornbread was sweet on my tongue, and I groaned after taking a bite. The soup was just spicy enough that it made my nose run.
Before I knew it, I’d drained half the bowl. I laid waste to the cornbread too but couldn’t finish it because my stomach was suddenly full. I slowed down and sat on the edge of the bed, staring at my spoon.
It was plastic, so it could be broken.
I looked at one of the drawers and placed half the spoon inside the drawer, held on to the other half with my hand, and then slammed the drawer shut. The spoon finally snapped, giving me two sharp ends.
Okay, at least I had a weapon.
I tucked the straight handle in my sleeve and then used the other end to finish the soup. After I used the bathroom, I washed my hands and felt like a new person.
I was going to have to do something with my hair at some point. My curls were out of control and in need of a serious conditioner. And I had no products here.
Not that he would give me any. And of course, he’d kidnapped a black woman without thinking about giving her a satin pillowcase to sleep on. I must look crazy.
I was checking out my hair in the mirror and caught a glance at the toilet paper roll. Now wait a damn minute. It occurred to me there might be a spring inside of it. Actual metal. Metal that I could straighten and make into a weapon. I ran over to it and placed the toilet paper roll on the back of the toilet and looked at the coil inside.
"Bingo."
Slowly I uncoiled it, twisting it into the kind of weapon that I could use to wrap around my knuckles and leave a pointy end that I could stab with.
"This is perfect."
I knew how to throw a punch at the very least. Maybe just enough to be dangerous, but with a weapon attached, this could be a gamechanger. I shoved my modified weapon under my other sleeve. He might be able to disarm me with one weapon, but not two.
When the bedroom door opened again, I shouted from the bathroom, "Just a second, Reginald. I'm coming out."
I made sure my clothes looked okay and he couldn't see the weapons I’d hid. When I stepped out into the bedroom, I frowned when I saw it was Drake. "Oh, it's you."
"Sorry to disappoint you, sweetheart."
"You should have sent Reginald back. I like him."
"Yeah, everyone likes him."
"I've been well-fed, so I'm appreciative of that. I wanted to say thank you to him."
The corner of his lips quirked at that. "Let's get you changed for bed. There are some clothes in the bottom drawer if you want to change, and then I'll tie you to the bed."
Fear sliced through me. "The fuck you will."
He frowned. "I can already tell you're going to be trouble. You can change on your own, or I can do it for you. That’s certainly an entertaining prospect. I don't want to tie you to the bed, but I will if you don’t cooperate."
He was considering changing me? Hell no. "You're not tying me to that bed. Over my dead fucking body."
I squared up with him, and he held up his hands. "Why don't we have a conversation about it? You change your clothes in the loo. They're in the drawer. Come back out, and we'll talk."
"No, not if talking means you tying me to the goddamn bed."
"If I don't tie you to the bed, that means I'll be sleeping with you." He licked his bottom lip. “And judging from how much you liked me kissing you, I don’t think either of us will sleep.”
My eyes bulged. "No."
I went over to the drawer and found a few of the things I'd brought with me for the weekend, as well as other things that were in my fucking size. What the fuck?
