Total pages in book: 97
Estimated words: 91042 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 455(@200wpm)___ 364(@250wpm)___ 303(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 91042 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 455(@200wpm)___ 364(@250wpm)___ 303(@300wpm)
“You don’t have to stay. But I do appreciate the offer,” I replied, walking into the kitchen for some distance and so I couldn’t smell him—because heaven help me, that scent was divine.
“I’m in the mood for wings, so if you don’t choose, that’s what we are eating.”
I stopped a smile that was fighting to tug on my lips. This was…nice. Oz was being nice. Again. He was trying to be there for me during a difficult time. He didn’t want to leave me alone. I felt important. Why couldn’t I enjoy this? He wasn’t the same man who had abducted me. In his defense, my brother had taken four million dollars from him. I’d be mad about that too. He hadn’t killed Perry either. He hadn’t hurt me.
It wasn’t wrong for me to like the idea of having the attention of the hottest man I’d ever seen.
I turned around to look at him. “In that case, Mexican. Wings are too messy and not worth the effort.”
The corner of his mouth quirked. “Mexican it is. Get the red wine,” he replied.
I was turning to the wine rack, about to tell him I only had white and wishing I still had the fancy bottle Perry had given me when I saw the top of a bottle I didn’t recognize. I slid it out slowly, knowing this had not been here Saturday night. Holding the bottle with both hands, I studied the dark bottle with the burgundy top and gold label. Masseto was written at the top, along with text that I believed was Italian. I felt Oz’s warmth behind me, and the flutters in my stomach were almost enough to distract me from the foreign bottle in my hand.
His arm reached around me, and the hard bulges of his biceps brushed over my bare arm while he took the bottle from me. “Where’s the opener?” he asked, the huskiness in his voice close to my ear.
I blinked and took in a ragged breath. “Um,” I replied. “It’s, uh…” I started to point, but I couldn’t think straight when the man who starred in all my sexual fantasies was that close. It was confusing. So, I moved away toward the correct drawer. It wasn’t until I was opening it that my confusion about this bottle returned to the forefront of my thoughts.
“I didn’t buy that wine,” I told him. “I mean, it…I don’t know where it came from.” It was crazy-sounding, I realized, but it also looked expensive.
He nodded his head toward the drawer behind me. “Whoever did has good taste. I’m not a wine drinker, but I’ll drink this,” he replied. “Opener?”
Did he think I was kidding? I mean, it did sound insane, but it had just appeared here. I had decided that I might be sleepwalking, and that explained the other things, but the wine didn’t work with that theory. I hadn’t walked in my sleep to a wine store in the middle of the night and bought this.
“I am serious, Oz. I don’t know where that came from. Someone put it here. I…I…”
My imagination was taking over. Different crime TV episodes I had watched of something like this happening began to play out in my head. The small hints that didn’t add up. They could be here now. My heart began to race in my chest, and I reached for the sharpest knife in the block, sliding it out.
“I’m not using that to open this. I mean, I can, but it will likely get cork in the wine,” Oz said.
I shook my head and put a finger over my mouth to silence him.
Someone had put that bottle in the rack. It could be drugged. Perry might have screwed someone else over that we didn’t know about. They might have found him in jail and come for me. This bottle was for me to drink, and then they would take me.
I walked as soundlessly as possible as I made my way to the pantry and jerked it open.
“What are you doing?” Oz asked.
I shook my head, but didn’t look back at him and continued toward the bathroom. If I were waiting for someone to drink the drugged wine I had left for them, where would I hide? I could be here awhile. They might not drink it right away. I didn’t have that many hiding places that were good for long-term hideouts.
My eyes slowly scanned the bathroom for any sign that they had been in here. My eyes went to the towel. Had that been them? Was the person here to take me a clean freak?
I stilled. There was the other scenario I’d thought of and didn’t want to think about. Some sicko who had been breaking into my apartment and watching me. Bile rose in my throat. The wine was so they could take me and…and keep me.