“You’re not Antonio,” he said in a de ep voice that raised the little hairs on my arms. I opened and closed my mouth, unsure I should say anything. Davian hadn’t wanted me to meet his father, but he was right here . It’d be weirder if I didn’t speak. “Nope,” I answered, pleased when my voice came out steady despite feeling shaken to my very core. I swallowed and shook my head. “Not Antonio.” The other brow joined its friend. He took a st ep closer, then another , and the sharp echo of his loafers on the hardwood floor made my heart skip a much-needed beat. I picked the dishcloth up for something to focus on and glanced around the counter , unsure where to look. But not looking at the scary man seemed more dangerous, so I peeked up at Davian’ s father again as he stopped right next to me. The biting frost in his eye sucked all the warmth from the room, raising goose bumps along my arms. His gaze dragged down my body in a leer like slime against my skin, and I really wished Davian hadn’t taken my underwear with him. Even with my skirt covering everything important down there, I was too exposed under his father ’s eye. I cleared my throat as his scrutiny carried on, feeling totally violated. “Can I help you with something?” I asked when the silence grew impossible to ignore. Mr. Reed’s head tilted to the side, his gaze focusing closely on my legs. “I have no doubt you could, though I’m still trying to figure something out.” His eye darted back up to mine. “What are you doing here?” The question was innocent enough, but the weight behind it made me swallow a fresh rush of nerves. Davian hadn’ t warned me his father was such a cre ep. “I’m baking cupcakes,” I answered evenly, waving at the dozens of trays filled with baked goods. “And, um, dog treats. You probably don’t want to eat any of those, but would you like a cupcake?” I didn’t want to give him one of my prized confections, but the least I could do was be polite. So, I held out one of the cupcakes that’d finished cooling and was decorated with a pink daisy .
He hummed noncommittally—not looking too impressed by the selection. “No, but I would love to know how you know my son.” ... Uh-oh. That seemed like the last question I should be answering. There was a reason Davian had warned me about his father . Maybe if I played dumb, he’d leave me alone. “Your son?” I asked, but my voice came out too high-pitched to fool anyone. Mr. Reed’s lips formed a thin line before he answered. “Davian Reed. The man whose kitchen you’re currently using.” “Oh. Of course. That son.” I fiddled with the cupcake, hoping the blush rising to my cheeks wasn’t too noticeable. “Well, Dav helped me with something yesterday , and I’m just baking some cupcakes to thank him.” His eye widened in disbelief. “... Dav? ” “Davian,” I corrected quickly , the metaphorical ice weakening beneath my feet. “Sorry .” Instead of speaking, Mr. Reed st epped behind me, and I stilled, not daring to move. What was he doing? Who randomly walks behind people? It was another reminder I had no business being alone with this man. I thought about making a run for it to find Davian—if I could remember how to get back to his of fice. Mr. Reed’s shoes went silent as he stopped on my other side—close enough for his suit to brush my shoulder . Way too close. “And what exactly did my son help you with?” If he was trying to intimidate me, it was working. I angled myself to better ke ep him in my sights. “One of the dogs from the shelter I work at was taken, and Dav—er , Davian —helped me get him back.” I coughed to cover my slip, not that it helped anything. He hummed again. “What’ s the name of the shelter?” My brows pulled together . Did it matter? He sure asked a lot of questions. “It’s, uh, Happy Tails Haven,” I said. With a sigh, he clasped his hands behind his back and surveyed the kitchen. “Of course it is. That explains a lot.” I blinked back at him. Had I missed something important? “... It does?” His answering chuckle grated against my nerves.
“It does. I can even see why my son helped you. You’re a pretty little thing,” he said, and it took a lot of effort not to gag. His single eye took in the trays of cupcakes littering the counters, and he shook his head. “And here I was, thinking he finally decided on a pastry chef for the wedding.” I wasn’ t sure this conversation could get any stranger . “Oh, um, no. I’m not a pastry chef.” Not yet , I added silently. But the way he worded that rubbed me the wrong way. The wedding? “I’m sorry, what wedding are you referring to?” The predatory smile he flashed made him look more sharklike than human. “Why , Davian’ s, of course.” It didn’t click at first, and I stared at Davian’ s father like he’d spoken a foreign language. I had to r epeat the words in my head before they made any sense. Then the cupcake in my hand tumbled to the floor, and my heart dropped into my stomach like a stone. A pastry chef for Davian’ s wedding. Davian’ s wedding. ... Davian was getting married ? Oh, heck no.
S a d i e Sadie’s Guide to Hostage-T aking Being T aken Hostage Forming a Partnership with Y our Hostage Embracing the Hostage Lifestyle Not Freaking Out, T ip #20: No matter how talented his tongue is, do NOT fall for your hostage. I tried my best not to jump to conclusions or freak out. I failed miserably . A whole flurry of emotions surged, and I was torn between denial and a sting of betrayal that made me dizzy . Not that Davian’ s father gave me much time to process the bomb he’d just dropped. “That must make you the mistress I heard about,” he continued, cocking his head to the side as that single eye scrutinized me again. “I wasn’t expecting pink hair . That’s... colorful.” I almost threw up. Mistress? Oh god. “I’m not a mistress,” I corrected him, clenching my hands into fists to hide their shaking. I couldn’t be. Davian would’ve told me if he was already in volved with someone. He would’ve mentioned he was freaking engaged. ... Wouldn’t he?