He Didn’t Kidnap Me. Not Exactly novel Chapter 7

Chapter 7

“Yes.”

“But that feels extreme. Ventilation will be restricted.”

The guards dragged me toward the staircase again.

“Just so you know,” I called back over my shoulder, “this whole kidnapping thing? One star review!” I yelled.

DeLuca didn’t respond.

Morning arrived in the most annoying way possible.

By existing.

I sat on the edge of the bed, glaring into space like I could intimidate reality into changing.

It did not work.

After a few minutes, I grabbed my phone; Lillian had texted me.

“What do you mean??”

“Why didn’t you come home?”

I stared at the messages for a moment. Then typed back.

“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”

Which was technically true.

I dropped the phone beside me and reflected. This was my life now.

Kidnapped.

Imprisoned.

Living in a mansion full of criminal bodybuilders and a jerk.

Fantastic.

A knock sounded at the door now. “Food,” a male voice said.

“I don’t want it,” I replied instantly.

A pause, then footsteps retreated- but five seconds later my stomach made a noise that sounded like a dying whale. glared down at it.

“Traitor.”

I lasted about an hour after that. Eventually hunger won so I slipped out of the room after realizing the door was unlocked. Maybe this wasn’t the door DeLuca had been referring to.

Anyway, I crept down the hallway and did it like someone attempting to rob their own kitchen. The mansion was ridiculously large.

… and after wandering through two hallways, three rooms, and what might have been a library, I finally found the kitchen.

I stepped inside.

And froze.

DeLuca was standing at the counter… and he was shirtless.

His back was turned, muscles shifting slightly as he moved. His shoulders were broad, his waist narrow, and the muscles along his back moved in a way that made it very difficult to remember basic human thoughts. He had no tattoos but…

I stared.

Just briefly.

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