Thorne Princess(35)

“Well, my dreams are about to become your reality.” He tossed the piece of meat between us, on the marbled surface. It was missing the two worms, and now I couldn’t help but think they were somewhere in the house. Shudder.

“No.” I braced the kitchen island, splaying my fingers over it, my stance ready to pounce and get into a fistfight with him. “What are you going to do about it? Hit me?”

“Touching you is not on my agenda, so stop worrying about something that’d never happen.”

It was good news. Very good news.

So why was I slightly disappointed when he said that? Oh, that’s right. Because I did know what his hands felt like on me. And they felt good. More than good. Great. And that was when he simply carried me from place to place.

“I will report back to your parents,” he said without missing a beat. “And, as expected, your phone must be confiscated once again. That didn’t take long. I’ll go grab it.”

He turned around and went upstairs, not giving me a chance to cool off, to explain nicely that I couldn’t touch meat. It made me vomit. And that it wasn’t just about murdering innocent animals, but also about the environment.

I couldn’t believe he was taking my phone again. I also couldn’t believe I was dumb enough to follow Keller’s plan without considering the consequences. That biting feeling of aloneness slammed into me again.

It was then, in a complete moment of madness and desperation, that I decided to do the undoable. To run away. I didn’t have a plan. Nor did I have car keys. Or a phone. But I’d had enough. Ransom was pushing me too far, barging into my life, taking my credit cards, my cars, demanding things I didn’t know how to give him. I wasn’t even sure what it was he wanted from me. My entire existence seemed to aggravate him.

Jamming my feet into my sliders, I swung the entryway door open and trudged outside. To freedom. To independence. To…what the hell was that, sticking to the bottom of my shoe?

I bent down to pick it up. Ugh. It looked like an unsolicited leaflet or something. Seriously, did anyone actually fall for these things? Their only purpose seemed to unnecessarily kill trees.

Crumpling it in my fist, I started making my way out of my gated neighborhood. A rush of adrenaline coursed through my veins. With it, came fear. I had no idea what to do. A part of me assumed I was just going to give Ransom a little scare, sit in the park for a few hours, then come back and renegotiate the terms of my imprisonment with him. I also needed to find a trashcan to throw away the leaflet. I couldn’t believe that this was my life now. A week ago, I was hanging on the rooftop of a skyscraper, drinking vintage champagne with movie stars.

I was about a hundred feet away from the gate surrounding my neighborhood when my Nissan LEAF appeared in my periphery, zipping past sprawling villas and eye-popping pools. Ransom had gotten dressed, and even managed a close shave before coming to pick me up.

“Get in.” He slowed the car to match my stride.

I stared ahead, determined not to give him what he wanted.

“I already told you, you’re not allowed to leave the house without supervision. I can’t protect you without your cooperation.”

“Cooperation!” I exploded, coming to a halt. I turned around to face him, feeling my eyes wildly dancing in their sockets. “Are you kidding me? You take everything I have and own, everything that represents me, you treat me like a spoiled child, you call me Brat, and also a bitch once—yes, I heard your conversation with Tom—and you don’t even tell me what kind of so-called danger I’m in. And you want my cooperation? I’m completely in the dark.” I flung my arms sideways. “I have no idea what’s going on, and you don’t seem to care. You’re doing a miserable job.”

He stopped the car. Got out. Rounded the car. I stayed rooted in place. He couldn’t kidnap me in broad daylight, could he? I supposed technically, he could. There was not a soul in sight.

But he didn’t. Instead, he stopped a few feet from me.

“You’re right.”

“No! Don’t give me that. I am entitled to my…wait, what did you just say?” My face twisted in confusion.

“I said you’re right. I could have given you more context to what was happening, and I chose not to. We can still rectify that. Privately. In your house.”

This was my time to bargain. I needed to pick my battles smartly.

“First things first, I do not want meat in my fridge.” I raised my hand. “This is absolutely non-negotiable. It makes me physically sick to see.”

His jaw ticked, but he didn’t answer, which I took as confirmation that he heard and intended to comply.

The air between us stilled, as if the world was holding its breath to hear the verdict.

“I will not put meat in your fridge,” he said finally.

“Thank you.” I wrung my fingers together. The paper dropped from my hand.

“What’s that?” Ransom asked, already bending down to pick it up.

“Some leaflet I was about to throw in the recycling can.”

He smoothed the white paper—who knew? Maybe Ransom was one of the suckers who could be convinced to join a sauna Zumba class?—but when I noticed the color drain from his face, I realized this was no ordinary leaflet.

“We have to go. Now.” Ransom grabbed my hand, tugging me to the car.